Sunday 26 November 2017

The case of the Santa slayings

1)
Not even December yet and it's too damn cold and wet to think about Christmas. Christ, don’t even get me started. Can’t stand this time of year, and it seems I’m not the only one. The phone call wrecks my first good night’s sleep in ages and I just pray it’s the wrong number... but I know it’s not. The festivities have started early this year – someone’s killed Santa Claus.
In an age of litigation and moral responsibility everyone has to be regulated and licensed; even would-be Santa Claus, would you believe? There’s even a goddamned training school for them; a four day course with a certificate and a big red suit at the end!
Looks like someone took a dislike to poor old Christopher Tingley; they must’ve taken exception to his portrayal in a big way. He was found trussed up like a Christmas turkey with an orange in his mouth and his giblets on the outside. Not a pretty sight.
Sure, there are plenty of killings over the Christmas period; no difference to any other holiday. Tempers fray, festivities be damned. But this one? Slightly more macabre than normal, probably why I got assigned to it. Ever since I cracked the Siamese Twin Murder-Suicide case I keep getting the nut-jobs. This one’s a little more creative; something tells me this won’t be an isolated incident, either. There will be more, you can count on it.
It doesn’t take too long for people to realise that the only way this’ll work is if I go undercover. Everyone seems to have a water-tight alibi; everyone’s desperate for the chance to play the jolly fat man and no one wants to risk it for anything. It’s got to pay well then, ‘cause it can’t be for job satisfaction! So the Chief agrees and laughs me out of the office. He loves the irony, and if it were happening to somebody else, I probably would do too.
Me, the ultimate, Christmas bad-ass going undercover in a training school for Santa’s where one Father Christmas has already been knocked off! Fer Christ’s sake, why me?

2)
Every time you go to a mall and see one of those fat festive fuckers with their ho ho ho’s; or the creepy guys with the fake smiles and glassy stares outside cinema’s and bowling alleys; chances are they’ve been to a training centre like “Little Saint Nick – putting the Is into Christmas!” (No, I don’t get it either…)
They’re all regulated and have to pass certain tasks and tests to qualify. It’s basic common sense but takes over four days of intense course and field work. Seems that someone cracked after the first morning; and I can empathise completely –I’ve only been there a quarter of an hour and I already want to murder every last one of them (and I’m supposed to be the good guy!).
In amongst the Ho Ho Ho practice sessions everyone’s keeping tight lipped. No one had a thing to say about Tingley, except that he was the one that seemed most genuine about what he was doing; so maybe it was professional jealousy.
There were only five other people on this course: Paul Robeson –an Australian who really didn’t seem to give a fuck whether it was Christmas or not, he just really needed the money (I liked this guy a lot); Nicholas St. Hubbins –an Englishman fallen on hard times, his beard was tatty and smelt of mothballs, but at least it was his own, and the rest of him was the wrong side of shabby chic. Inigo Jeffies was odd.. it was difficult to gauge where he was from, he didn’t exactly speak any form of English that I had ever heard and he looked very puzzled throughout most of the days exercises, even managing to mispronounce the Ho’s. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d been sent as a cruel joke by the job centre. Oestre Lapin was probably the most decent guy I’d met for a long time; he was very light on his feet with a sensitive nature; but had a really sweet teeth. Then there was Martha Grimes.
Yup – a woman! In an age of equal opportunity, why not? Why not have a female Father Christmas… Please; let the killer be her…
By the end of the first day I was none the wiser; no one seemed to have wanted Tingley dead, yet there had to be a motive. To kill is one thing; but to be trussed up and gutted takes another level of hate entirely.
I slept in the college to keep up appearances and as I turned the lights out I said a silent good night to the budding Santa’s and wondered who would be next.

3)
Her screams alerted us to the painful truth that Inigo would no longer be joining us. Someone had taken great umbrage to his impersonation, so much so that they had fed him copious amounts of mistletoe berries and even stuffed his mouth with them when he died. This was some hate, folks.
The thing is, anyone of them could have gotten to Inigo that night; and I hadn’t even had a chance to interview the staff yet.
If I thought the prospective Santa’s were hard work then they were amateurs to those that ran the college. I knew that they were hiding something, there was definite fear behind their eyes but I could tell that none of them had been responsible for either of the murders.
We were given a few hours grace because of the police investigation surrounding Inigo’s death. No one knew of my own under-cover work so everything had to run as standard and this gave me a chance to do a bit of research. I checked into the local library and looked at the newspapers going back over twenty years.
Fifty people had been killed whilst dressing up as Santa in this town alone. Fifty! Somehow it had been hushed up, but now it had managed to track back to the source –the college.

4)
What the hell was happening? Only one man would be able to help me out, the owner of the College: Rudolph Deerheart (I swear, I’m not making this up.)
“Yeah – we hushed it up; but what else could we do?” It didn’t take much for Rudolph to start singing to me; I can be very persuasive sometimes. “If people found out that becoming Santa got you dead then who’d want it? Sales would plummet without having a Santa to brighten the Christmas experience and the country would go under. That what you want?”
He was asking the wrong guy.
But twenty years… the killings had gone on for twenty years! There was only one guy that looked as if he had that much hate in him and when we found Martha stuffed in the chimney, back at the college with her neck twisted completely round I knew it had to be him. He didn’t even deny it; seemed almost proud of it!
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” He snapped back when I asked why he’d done it. “Damned Coca-cola; damned Richard fucking Attenborough. No one remembers me anymore; even my name.”
“Saint Fucking Nicholas.” Exclaimed Paul.
“Ho fucking Ho, yes?” Nick snapped back. “This should be my time of year but for because of those charlatans, no one believes in me anymore. My power has been diminished and I’m forced to live in the gutter; no better than a tramp. Each year I try to put people off; kill a few Santa’s but it makes no difference. So this year I thought I’d get proactive, and I would’ve succeeded too if it wasn’t for you pesky...”
“Just take him away, will you?” I said to the police who were standing open-mouthed at the turn of events. Little Saint Nick turned Satan’s little helper… what a world, eh?

5)
I needed a walk home, clear my head. I don’t know whether it was being in such close proximity to the festive cheer, but I was in the middle of a major headache. I’d like to say that it was because of the jackhammer pain that I didn’t realise I was being followed until we reached the building site.. but I just wasn’t paying attention. The case was over; or so I thought.
A church of all things was being renovated into a swanky club and I couldn’t help but sneer at the irony. A smack to the back of my neck sent me sprawling. I was in too much pain to put up a fight and somehow I was dragged into the church. I’m no lightweight but this person managed to heft me about as if I was a ten stone weakling.
The inside of the church was a mess; workman’s tools strewn about. Chisels, crowbars, nail-gun’s, hammers, drills, screwdrivers… it was almost as bad as the inside of my flat!
I was pushed to the floor and I hit my head against a trestle.
“Who’s going to miss another coppa, eh? Especially one who’s still sporting the colours.” Fuck, I was still in my Santa suit; but I recognised the voice and suddenly I understood what was happening.
“Brer Fucking Rabbit, I presume.” I said, rubbing the back of my head as I stared at the bloodshot eyes of Oestre Lapin.
“How dare you!” He kicked me hard. “Even now, when you should be humbled at the sight of such divinity, you try and crack wise.”
“Divinity? Since when was the Easter Bunny divine?” That received another kick.
“Arrogant pig. You know nothing of what I stand for. Think about what has been taken away from me. Saint Nick; always wanting to be the centre of attention; had to steal my limelight –even though I’d gone to such trouble! But with your death everyone will know it was me, and I will regain my proper place in the pantheon!” He closed his eyes as if in rapture and stepped back so he was against the wall; arms outstretched as if in a state of grace. That gave me enough time to pick up exactly what I needed; I may not be the smartest but I’m fast!
“Yeah –well fuck you too! Here’s enlightenment in spades!” I pointed the discarded nail-gun and shot several nails into him; two in each palm and two in each foot. I was tempted to staple his lips together for good measure because he was still spouting some pseudo-religious crap; but I rang the chief instead:
“The Santa slayings?... Yeah –nailed it.”

Friday 10 November 2017

Anything for a quiet life...

1)
Well, I really fucked up this time! I thought I could handle things, save the day; whatever.. and where did it get me?  In a coffin… buried alive, God knows where.
I’ve been here for at least two hours now; a length of rubber tubing leading up to the surface as my only means of survival, so I’m at least four feet deep and my whole world consists of this small, silk lined box. I should’ve stayed at home.
I know the technique; it’s an extreme form of dehumanisation: complete sensory deprivation on an archetypal level; they don’t want me dead, just pliable and in another couple of hours that’s how I’ll be; fat and pliable.... Trouble is, I have no idea how to get out – my hands and feet are tied and the cords have no give in them at all.
Every so often I hear a creak of the timbers around me as the earth settles itself; pressing, compacting against my world. I swear that the lid of the coffin is pressing closer, caressing my cheek and I would love to scratch at the twitches that are starting to develop , but I can’t; so I use it to stay sane –focus on the minute details, keep myself occupied. I have to stay sane, keep with it; the whole village needs me..
I’ve got to keep sending out my psychic S.O.S’s; there must be someone out there who can pick it up; but I need to remain calm, panicking won’t help me at all –it’ll only send me closer to them. I’m already far too vulnerable and I’m just surprised that they haven’t taken a more overt approach in subduing me. Maybe that will come later and then I really will be fucked! At least I still have a chance, it’s slim but it’s there….
There – I’ve sent it again. I guess I’m sending them out every couple of minutes but there’s no real way to know. It doesn’t really matter, it needs to be enough so someone can pinpoint me. I should be able to pick up when they’re in the vicinity and shout to them –that’s always supposing I can shout.
I need to conserve my energy, figure out stuff –I have time. Like where did it go wrong? When exactly were they expecting me? Was it all planned from the start? That would explain so much….

Like the letter I received; Roger never wrote me unless it was urgent, he knew how busy I was. His letter was brief: two deaths in the village was bad enough and certainly unheard of in the comatose village of Slaughley, where I’d grown up, but both were of children! The first, Rosemary Dew, had been on a walk with her family in the local woods. They were new to the village and didn’t know that they woods were actually out of bounds to the villagers; private property. Certainly nothing prepared them for what happened.
Three Alsatians came out of nowhere and attacked them. The father did what he could to defend his wife and twins; and managed to save his wife and son but his poor daughter never stood a chance. I don’t even want to think about what she went through; but the father witnessed it all and it’s unlikely that he’ll ever talk of it, or of anything else, again.
A week later and another child goes missing. Tony Ashworth didn’t come back from church one Sunday afternoon; hadn’t been playing with his friends and no one remembered seeing anything suspicious that day. It was two weeks before his parents saw him again and they will always be left with one simple question: why?
He was found in the local pond, in the catchment area where the new-born fish were always released and the frogs spawned. The irony was lost on everyone but the tragedy was just as real. There was no sign of mutilation (sexual or otherwise, thank god) and no one could understand why such a thing was happening: this was Slaughley, after all, and not Brighton. Things like this didn’t happen there –the worst was a broken leg at a rugby game or repetitive strain injury through too much fishing!

I breathed in deeply again though the plastic tube and sent out another signal. Luckily I’d spent many years meditating so I was able to keep myself from panicking, although time was rapidly running out. I felt a tingling sensation at the top of my scalp which either meant that my psoriasis was acting up or someone had picked up on my psychic S.O.S. I was hoping for the latter; I had to keep the channel open so they could track me. Keep broadcasting, I thought, help will soon be here.

It was the possession of Amy Brown that persuaded Roger to write me and he was right to. Perhaps possession was the wrong choice of words; Amy was bewitched, but to a layman it would be difficult to tell the difference.
Roger had helped me research my first novels and had even been with me when I started my own ‘journey of enlightenment’. (although from where I’m lying now I’ve obviously still got a long way to go!) He alerted me to what was going on and I was gung-ho enough to believe that I could handle it without any cause for concern. Certainly everything that had happened in my life up to that point had led to that conclusion, but I fell to the second stumbling block of learning: clarity. Maybe I believed that I saw things too clearly and someone else obviously anticipated that, and that’s what’s worrying me now… I need to go over the last day in detail because I’ve missed something obvious but vital to my survival!

Over twelve hours ago, Bryan had caught me unawares, surprised me whilst I was investigating Slaughley church. Maybe that should have been my first clue. I’ve known both Bryan and Roger for years. We became linked, even though Bryan lacked the stones to carry on through the Teachings. There was no way he could’ve snuck up on me, he possessed neither the power nor the skill, yet surprise me he did.
“Fuck, Bryan – you should know not to do things like that! Especially not when I’m in the middle of cleansing!”
“Found anything yet?”
“No, I haven’t! That’s’ what’s worrying me –it’s too well hidden, which means they’re expecting me.”
“Well, if I knew that you were coming…” I looked at him – I didn’t think that he and Roger were that close any more.
“No… I meant that I’d picked up that you were coming round here first thing this morning. I knew that I’d find you here – well, I remember when we were kids!”
“We were hardly kids, Bryan. Have you heard from Roger at all?” He shook his head and walked towards the church. I was on its furthest boundaries trying to get a feeling where the blockage was. Something was certainly disrupting Slaughley’s energy but I couldn’t figure out the three fundamentals: what, why and where! I’d only been searching for fifteen minutes when Bryan interrupted me and that should’ve been my first clue.

Why I’m still alive baffles me sometimes… I must either be special or lucky…or stupid.

“Should I have heard from him?” Bryan replied too innocently. True, there was no love lost between them but even so.
“So you don’t know what’s been going on around these parts then?
“Coffee? It’s too cold to just stand and talk!” That he was hiding something from me was obvious, but why? I had to play his game to find out; seems that I played it too long.
As soon as I walked into his cottage I knew that he’d been ensnared into it, whatever it was. If I hadn’t taken all the precautions and protected myself with the relevant crystals and visualisations I would surely have been finished.
Look, I’m a writer, yeah? No, you’ve probably never read my books; they’re a mixture of the esoteric and fantasy, based a little on my own journey of awakening and path to learning… Well, whilst writing the novels I unwittingly opened myself up to forces that I didn’t know even existed. I thought I was writing fiction, but it seems I was closer to the truth than what I thought! It took me dangerously close to the edge on a few occasions but it really does make you stronger. Cracked, certainly… but if you’re strong enough you can see things in a completely different way. The world is never the same again.
One of the troubles is people think you are actually the character you write about and expect you to be able to deal with the things that your character does… I’ve dealt with cases of ‘possession’ before but all that was required was an understanding of psychology and occult symbolism.
I’ve also been involved in true black magic. It’s real, believe it. Doesn’t matter whether you do or not though, if you don’t make yourself a target you won’t really have to worry; they’ll probably just passively feed off you as they would normally do.
If you do make your presence known to them, like I did, then you become a target to be converted anyway they can. It was during a fateful trip to Paris that I found this out and learnt all I could about protection to make sure that it would never happen again. Times like this it certainly pays dividends.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” I whirled round to Bryan upon walking into the cottage. “When did they get to you?”
“I’m not as strong as you, Alex. I never have been. They took the whole village in a matter of weeks. The childrens death were just the tip of the iceberg!”
“And you let Roger face it all on his own then? He was the only one savvy enough to realise what was really happening, I take it.”
“Don’t delude yourself – I’m not bloody stupid. I knew exactly what was going on but I wasn’t going to stick my neck out for no good reason!”
“You’re nothing but a quizzling, Bryan. So… I was supposed to just blunder into this and get enslaved as well?” In amongst this Bryan was true to his word, making us both a cup of coffee as if we were discussing the weather, or the price of eggs. He handed me a cup.
“Drink from both, mate.. if you will.” I insisted.
“You’re kidding me? You still don’t trust me?”
“Do you blame me?”
“Look… I knew you’d get called over and would easily recognise what’s going on; just as I knew that you’d rumble that this cottage was under siege. I said that I wasn’t daft enough to face it on my own, but with you here that’s a different story.” He took a mouthful from both mugs and grimaced when it came to mine. “I hate sugar in coffee…”
Ok, what he said made sense, but what next? It was still two against the unknown…
“Tell me more about Amy Brown.” I asked him.
“She’s a cute kid, only seven, you know? She’s at that age where everything she does is adorable. Everyone loves her and she’s brightened up the whole village. Some people have gone so far to say that she’s the very heart of the village now.”

So it’s like that then… By making her suffer then village knows to keep compliant; they want to cut the very heart from Slaughley.
“Let me guess, the Brown’s didn’t take the deaths of the other two children lightly did they? Like Roger, they were starting to see a pattern forming and got quite vociferous about it.”
“Yup, not now though. And with the Browns silenced so has the whole village.”
“Right… it’s nearly ten, will they be up?”
“Who, the Browns? I don’t think that they sleep much anymore.” Bryan replied.
“Will they agree to my helping them?”
“They’ve already got an interest in the occult –not like you.. but I think that they’ll accept whatever help you could possibly give.”
“If you could go in and tell them about me whilst I go and take a reccy of their cottage… I don’t know exactly what I’m dealing with yet. The grid feels like it’s been disrupted but I can’t tell by who or how powerful they are. Something feels very wrong… to disrupt the grid takes power and knowledge but it’s the possession that feels strictly amateurish.”
“What do you think you’ll find?”
“I don’t know yet. I don’t want to prejudice things by having a pre-conceived idea, but you think you can do that for me?”
“What, act as your agent? Course!” The humour was misplaced but I let it slide.

But I let too much slide, I didn’t want to believe that Bryan was that far into things. It’s easier, after all, to place the blame on other people’s shoulders but I should’ve been more careful. I let my curiosity and pride cloud the way.
I could feel someone above me now, scrabbling on the earth over my burial site. Thank god – course, I didn’t know who it was. It wouldn’t take them long to get me out, I just hoped that they were friendly.

As I thought, there were four marker points to act as a barrier at the cardinal points, but was that to keep the energies out or in?
They were child’s play to defuse. Just stones wrapped in parchment, muddied enough to blend in. On the inside of the parchment would be writing of some form or another, a statement of intent no doubt, to cause harm to those who lived within. I half expected them to be booby trapped so I didn’t pick them up initially; they had to be neutered first.
Normally I would’ve urinated on them, but I don’t think that the Brown’s would have relished me pissing on their gardens, what would the neighbours think?
Luckily there are always multiple ways of doing things and I had in my back pocket a bottle of holy water. Always prepared! Experience has taught me some very valuable lessons, often through the hard way (but as my mentor once said to me, is there really any other way?).
I doused the stones as there were runes scratched onto the surface; someone really wasn’t taking any chances. As funny as it sounds, their penmanship was appalling, for if intent is the key to all things magic then concentration and skill denote a magus. This was shoddy but the knowledge behind it was far beyond the skill level exhibited.
I was beginning to understand exactly what was happening; it wasn’t normal at all, but there was a practice of using a surrogate to carry out all the dirty work, thereby concealing the true intentions.
This took a lot of energy and thought, and meant that I could be in deep shit if I wasn’t careful. However it could also work to my benefit. If, and it was a big if, if it was the surrogate that was being used to possess and drain the child then I could use that to my advantage. If it wasn’t then I could be in a world of pain –only one way to find out!

Jim Brown was fighting a losing battle, still trying to remain polite to strangers when his daughter was losing her fight for life. Amanda Brown wouldn’t leave her side now, she was almost without hope, by maybe that was where I came in.
I explained to them both what was happening, what I was expecting to find and what I was going to do next.  I also told them that there was a large element of risk involved,
“Look, I know that if we do nothing then our daughter is dead; I have no illusions, Mr Paige. But if there’s even a ten percent chance of you saving her then I’m prepared to accept those odds.” Jim had lost none of his determination and I nodded. “And if what you say is true and you could very well end up hurting those that are behind all this then so much the better!”
“The other person may be completely innocent about what’s going on.” I replied solemnly.
“There’s no such thing.”

I scanned Amy’s bedroom and only one thing seemed out of place, but I needed confirmation from the family.
“What’s the most recent toy of Amy’s? It might be the one that she’s most attached to as well.”
Jim and Amanda shared glances that confirmed my suspicions.
“How did you know?” Amanda asked, pointing to the bear that Amy clung to.
“Now, I’m going to need it taken from her, and I think it’s best that you give it to me. I’m sorry if this upsets her further but I’m going to have to destroy it.” Jim nodded and handed me the bear despite the weak protestations from Amy.
“How did you know?” He asked.
“Did you get it at a jumble sale? Bric-a-brac? Let me guess, it was actually handed to her.”
Again the strained disbelief glanced between them. “It’s an old trick, the person probably wasn’t even aware of the significance of it.” This was unlikely, but I didn’t want any acts of vigilantism, besides I needed access to them myself.

Right then, when the spade finally hit the coffin lid, I nearly lost it. I actually started to panic; Just like in the movies I started shouting; as ridiculous as it sounds… I mean, why else would anyone be digging a hole in the ground at that time of night? So I stopped myself… too little, too late though, as the coffin lid was torn free and I was face to face with the last person I expected to see.
“Well… you certainly fucked up this time, boy!” She said, echoing my earlier sentiments.

2)
An hour later, safe and warm, which is more than I deserved under the circumstances. I’ve a cup of coffee in my left hand and a chocolate digestive in the other, ready for dunking.
“So… what happened then? You discovered that the fetish was in the bear, so how did you approach the possession itself? I don’t remember that being in the curriculum. No wonder you fucked it up!”
And she was supposed to me my friend!
But even that wasn’t strictly true. A begrudging friend would probably be closer. Ruth started out as my mentor when things first went bad for me. I was drawn to her after a cursory meeting at a psychic fayre. She was one of the many mediums displaying their wares and she insulted me during the whole reading, but each of the insults hit home. I needed to know why and so spent three painful years unravelling the whole story. At least, that was the initial theory, but I sometime wonder whether I actually made things worse; still, at least I’d gathered enough material to write my first two novels!
We kinda fell out after that. She was getting more manipulative and I didn’t like the direction she’d chosen for me… we had a parting of the ways and a very tense argument or three.
And this was the first time we’d spoken since then!
“Oh, you’re going to love this..” I replied.
“You allowed yourself to be possessed, so you could get information and kill the host; right?” She interrupted. Don’t let the pink punk hairstyle fool you; Ruth’s no idiot, despite being over seventy years old her temper is just as boiling, her tongue just as acerbic and mind just as sharp as it ever was.
“Well, yes… and it worked… I’d figured that they were using a cipher as a go-between and I wagered that I’d be stronger than the cipher. I’d already pinned it down to a person in the village and reckoned that I could beat them easily.”
“So what’s it like being so wrong?”
“But I wasn’t… things got ropey for a while, apparently. I nearly ended up killing the family..”
“Bloody idiot! I always told you that you’d fuck up one time, didn’t I?”
“But I got back.. eventually… I sensed what was happening and managed to sever the connection. I came back and all was well with the girl.”
“So how did you end up in the coffin?”
“Ah… well – I got no information from the first time that I went in…. so I tried it again. Even though the girl’s connection had been severed I could still make contact with the cipher. I felt that there was another presence in its mind, something hidden and I wanted to find out what it was…. So I went in again… that evening… when there was nobody else watching.”
Ruth laughed mockingly. “Andy you never once thought that that would be a bad idea? Like it may have been an elaborate trap?”
“Well… yes…” I agreed, blushing. “I thought I was well protected though. I never envisaged that there would be that amount of psychic ensnarement. It took me a couple of hours to get back in to my body and by the time I did I was buried alive. Not exactly the best way to spend a night.”
“Fucking idiot.” She chastised and I could only nod. “More than you deserve though. I mean, how could you be so fucking stupid? Did it not occur to you the power behind this? You’re nothing to these people! I used to tell you, even when we first met, the nature of the black. Even after what happened in Paris, but you still don’t get it. This is not a game – you’re lucky to be alive! They shred minds as well as souls and yours would be nothing to them!”
“Thanks –your support is greatly appreciated.”
“Fuck you, Alex. You call me out at stupid fucking o’clock so now you can hear me bitch, and you know I’m right –goddamnit!”
“Yes.. I’m sorry…” She was right, as always.
“So, what are you going to do now?”  
“Go home, get some sleep and then figure out how to put the village back on the energy grid, so to speak.”
“How the fuck are you going to do that? What makes you think you stand a chance?”
“I have no idea.” I yawned, “but I have an idea that it starts with the church, so that’s where my second port of call is, after bed.” I tried to unsuccessfully stifle another yawn.
“Be careful about the church.” Ruth cautioned. “It’s guarded.”
“I’ve no doubt about that, but by what exactly?”
“An ancient power that’s been perverted by the black, it won’t take kindly to you snooping around at night.”
“Who said I’d be doing it at night?” Ruth fixed her gaze at me and I smiled. “Yeah, ok – I don’t want to be snooping around when just anyone can see me, beside it makes sense to do it at night… don’t worry, I’ll make sure that I’m protected.”
“Like you were tonight?”
“Look –the world breaks everyone, Ruth..”
“But you might not get the chance to shoot yourself…”
“Touché.” On that note I left Ruth. I knew better than to expect words of encouragement from her, if I survived the next night then we’d surely meet up again… I just hoped that whatever I was going to learn was worth it.

Unsurprisingly, by the time I got back to my cottage I was pretty damn tired. Not tired enough to do a cursory check of the property though. That would have been the easiest way to get caught out, through my carelessness; but there had been no attempts to seize the cottage. That struck me as odd, but I filed it for later and checked my watch. Ye Gods, it was ten after four in the morning! I needed sleep over everything else.
I created a cocoon of protection around me and a barrier around the cottage. If anything tried to get through I’d be woken. With those in place I slept dreamlessly.

I awoke feeling refreshed but still befuddled about what was going on. It was the timing that still bothered me. It was no secret that the black was highly operational –after all, there was the alchemist scandal back in the 1980’s which was never really cleared up but, by and large, they kept themselves off of the radar. So why now? Why make such a blatant attack against the village –especially a village that had no significance whatsoever? The only thing that it had going for it was John Wayne visiting it in the 70’s whilst on location. Apart from that, I was the only resident who had made anything of themselves and, even though I could be pretty egotistical sometimes, I knew I was strictly small-fry for these people, and there were far easier ways to ensnare the bigger fish.
I looked at my watch –it was ten after seven in the evening and it was starting to get dark out, good. By the time I’d fixed something to eat there’d be no one around.
An hour later and I’d fixed up my backpack ready for the evenings activities: a thermos flask of holy water and various bits of paraphernalia. I performed a few protection visualisations and was ready for whatever was going to happen.

I could wax lyrical about the Norman aspects of the church but it’s pointless. Suffice to say that it was an important site, important enough to have a three thousand year old yew tree in its grounds; and, despite what you may have heard, yew trees are gateways to other consciousnesses if used correctly, and it was now the target of the attacks. My first hunch had been correct and it was only because of I’d been distracted by Bryan that I’d not followed up on it….
Of course, that made perfect sense to me now. The whole thing had been stalling me, but not anymore. It was time to do something and fight back. If Ruth was correct then something had trapped the energy and perverted it.
Once in the churchyard I walked to the yew and even in the darkness I could find it. I’d been christened in the church so this, to me, was extra personal, which meant that I had to be careful not to let my feelings get in the way.
The moon poked out of the clouds, but most of it was in hiding –smarter than me, obviously. I sat with my back against the yew with both my feet firmly planted on the ground. Both of my palms were on the ground as well.
I didn’t bother with the circle of protection for I knew the tree itself would be enough. It hadn’t been gotten to yet, I could feel that its own defences were still too powerful so I envisaged a circle of light around us and dug my roots deep down to mingle my energies with the yews.
Growing the roots is a powerful meditation technique to gain strength and anchor oneself to the ground, which is especially useful in confrontations such as this.
I sat there for an hour and couldn’t have asked for a nicer night, which didn’t really make sense. It was almost clear with very few clouds, no ill winds; nothing to corroborate the feelings I’d had earlier. Everything was almost too peaceful.
It was then that I felt it. A roar of wind pinned me to the tree taking the breath right from me. If I hadn’t been rooted down then lord knows what might have happened. I couldn’t see what had caused the roar but felt a powerful energy, dense and very angry. It knew I was there and saw me as an intruder. I had to face it, if I turned to run then it would cut me down mercilessly. At least this way I stood a fighting chance.
I dug my roots ever deeper, gathering more power into my body, ready to use it. The entity must have realised what I was doing for it bellowed again and came closer though I still couldn’t see it.
What I felt was its immensity and its anger; I had no idea it would be this powerful, yet I sensed nothing malevolent about it. I remembered Ruth warning me and readied myself for the attack. If I didn’t strike now then I’d be too shit scared to even try.
The entity knew what I was doing and I felt it tense, readying itself for the retaliation, but it did nothing to provoke me.
This wasn’t right; nothing about this was right. If what Ruth had said was true then I should have been dead by now. The entity should either have attacked. It could have easily obliterated me, I could see that now. The two bellows had been displays of power, warnings, nothing more. If it was evil I would never have been given any warning. That meant that Ruth had been wrong… or lying?
Oh dear God, I was in trouble now. Once again, I’d found myself in a near impossible situation. Rather than being buried alive I was now trespassing and meddling with things I really shouldn’t be. This was a guardian, warning me to back off and, unless I was mistaken, I had already taken things much too far to back down now. I’d been set up.
I couldn’t fight the guardian, but what else could I do? What happens when an unstoppable force meets an unyielding object?
And then it was obvious, I yield. Immediately I let the shield of light down and withdrew my roots from the yew allowing the guardian access to me. This was surely suicidal for if I was wrong then…

I felt the guardian draw closer, the very air becoming tangible with the power. I felt myself grow warmer, a pulsing love enveloped me and I saw a large ball of light appear. It moved until it was at eye level before moving closer to me still. A sense of peace and wonderment filled me. I’d obviously done the right thing; by opening myself, allowing myself to be vulnerable, I was no longer a threat and the guardian reciprocated in kind, showing me its true form.
When the light passed through me I felt as if I’d been scanned… that’s the only analogy that I can use. I felt known by the guardian as we became one and felt nothing but love.
When the glow left me and the guardian receded I broke down and cried. I’m not ashamed to admit that, I wept like a child. The love had been so powerful that I couldn’t bear to be separated by it. I also felt rejuvenated, stronger than I had felt in months.
And I also knew why this had all been happening and what had been the catalysing incident.

I now knew what had to be done, but I needed the more specialist equipment that what was in my knapsack; two things specifically. One of which was a spear fashioned from the wood of the very yew tree I was sworn to protect that had been given to me some years before, and the other was water from the Maidens Cup.
Legend has it that the Maidens Cup was where St Leonard slew the dragon that had been terrorising the area, using a local virgin as bait. The virgin’s blood fell onto the ground and from that time water has always sprung up with a reddish tinge. Obviously that’s a load of crap, it’s just the site of a local spring; its coppery colour due to the amount of iron in the earth.
In order to protect myself from whatever was surrounding the place I not only had to bathe in the vile liquid but also had to drink it –that’s what the guardian had told me when we merged. I had to be one, both within and without, with the spirit of the Maiden, in order to be its protector.
Luckily it was still in the middle of the night and the Maidens Cup was down a steep slope which I’d like to say I traversed without a problem… Unfortunately I actually slid down the steep bank on my arse. I figured it was better to drink from it first then bathe and within twenty minutes I was ready to face whatever was in the wood. I was careful enough to anoint my spear as well, everything needed to be pure and as one. I had no idea what I would be facing in the wood so needed as much protection as I could.

3)
The wood had been my favourite childhood haunt. I’d spent so many happy hours reading, safely ensconced within the embrace of the trees. I saw so many deer in my time and shared many magical moments with them. It broke my heart to be there now; its aura had changed completely. With only one footstep I knew that it had been taken over by something dark and evil, and that’s a word that I don’t use lightly.
We use that word without really understanding it; we say that a person’s evil when what we really mean is that they’re a right bastard. Evil is a feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach and churns, contracts and eats away like cancer. It infects everything it comes in contact with until there’s nothing else.
The Dew family would never have stood a chance, dogs or no dogs. They would’ve fallen prey to the woods own defences without the Alsatian’s attacking them. I didn’t have long myself though. Bathing in the Maidens Cup gave me an hour at best, and I didn’t plan on being there that long, to be honest!
I mentally checked my knapsack again: holy water, check; pen knife, check; spear, check… Talk about travelling light… Thing is, there was nothing else I could really take with me, save a twelve bore shotgun and I’d never really fired one of them before.
I walked on drawing a map in my mind as to where I needed to go. If I remembered correctly the power place, the very heart of Slaughly was in the middle of the Daffodil Dell, but I doubted very much that anything grew there now.

I walked carefully trying not to make a sound, but with every footstep there were the requisite crunches and snaps of branches and leaves so I resided to walk normally. I figured that my presence had been sensed the moment I entered the wood anyway, so walking carefully was actually hindering my progress. The wood was dreamily quiet, the moon adding a deathly pallor, heightening the tension I was already feeling.
I knew that nothing would attack until I’d reached the Dell. They would have the advantage of being on higher ground. I also knew that there was nothing I could do to really prepare myself, I just had to be hyper-aware and not let my guard down for a second.
Of course, it was then that they attacked. I never even heard them; I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts. Forget the horror movie cliché of the snapping teeth, the first dog launched at me from behind, knocking me off my feet. It went straight for my left arm and sunk its teeth into my flesh. I screamed out and tried to shake it off, but it hung on. I could see the other two togs circle, ready to join the fray.
I had to do something fast. Drawing deep from within myself I recited the spell of Inner Light and spat into the eyes. There was a blinding flash as the water from the Maidens Cup transubstantiated into pure energy. That was something I knew could only happen once; the guardian must be helping me as much as it could.
The dog was thrown off and cowered. I pushed myself up, digging my roots deep into the clean earth and held my spear up like a quarterstaff. I chanted, praying to the guardian for strength, as the second dog launched at me. I whirled around, side stepping it completely and gave it a large whack with the spear just as the third one came at me. It went for the spear, taking me completely off balance as the first one tried again. The third dog let the spear go as the first one lunged at me –bathing the spear had given it protection and the dog couldn’t keep hold of it. I twisted it so it took the first dog by surprise and managed to stab it in its flank. It was out of the battle, leaving just two more.
They attacked together. I managed to kill one of them out right, striking into its mouth as it lunged, but the other one got hold my wrist and crunched hard; I screamed with the pain again and fell on it hoping that my weight would make it let go but it didn’t.
By now the blood loss was getting to me and I was on adrenaline alone. I wasn’t sure if I had much more left but there was no way I was going to give up; there was too much at stake.
Ignoring the pain as much as I could I wrapped my other arm around the dogs neck. It was already in a difficult position and had no manoeuvrability. I called upon every deity I could think of to give me the strength I needed. With one swift snap I broke its neck, but my wrist was badly mangled. My days of badminton were over… luckily I hated the sport.
Two of the dogs were dead for sure, but I couldn’t leave the other one suffering –I wasn’t a sadist. I picked up the spear and stabbed it through the heart.
It was then that I made the unfortunate discovery. The sharp pain in my hand where the dog had bitten me was in fact where two of my fingers being severed, brilliant. I took my handkerchief out and tied a tourniquet as best as I could. I didn’t have time to deal with it properly as I‘d only accomplished half of what I set out to do, and in one bizarre way losing the fingers may have actually worked in my favour.
I staggered into the Daffodil Dell and knelt at its heart. I could tell this was where the magicks had first taken place; I also knew why the family had been attacked, and what I had to do to end it all.
I undid my backpack and took out the holy water. The pen knife was there, originally so I could take some of my own blood to use as a sacrifice to open the grid again, but luckily there was plenty leaking from all over my body, so I held my mangled hand over the flask and mixed it with the holy water. I was really shaky now,  the adrenaline was wearing off, let alone the Maidens protection. This had to end.
Digging down as far as I could with my hands, I then pierced the earth with the spear, and poured in the mixture of the holy water and blood asking the Great Spirit to accept my sacrifice and cleanse the energy grid of the great wrong that had been done to it. I called on the guardians of the cardinal points to wreak great vengeance on those that dared to defile the sanctuary of the soil and the Spirits of the air and water to set things right again.
I’m not sure what I expected…  a great rush of wind, a crash of thunder or flash of light.. or even a scream, but nothing happened… except for a definite “Wooooh” of an owl in the branches above. I could clearly see it in the moonlight; I’m sure it winked at me before flying off. You can’t say fairer than that. In fact, on the journey out of the wood, it was as if it had woken up again –all I could hear were things scurrying about. That was as good a sign as any… which left me only one more thing to finish off… Ruth.

She wasn’t surprised to find me knocking on her door for the second time at an ungodly hour, and as I expected, she was all dolled up in her regalia. She was in her finery; black dress, purple cloak and even the requisite black eye make-up and lipstick like some septuagenarian Goth.
“When did you know it was me?” She asked when she invited me inside.
“I thought it was odd that you answered my psychic s.o.s. when you did… and I don’t think it was to make sure I was alright either… that must’ve surprised you…I reckon you were going to be the one to convert me regardless, after all you had a vested interested in me, didn’t you?” Ruth nodded and motioned for me to continue. She kept both hands behind her back and the cloak concealed too much for me to discern what she was planning. Truth be told, I was too tired and bleeding profusely to put up any kind of a fight and she knew it. I continued: “You slipped up with the guardian though. Did you really think that I’d try to pick a fight with something like that? I mean, I know I’ve done some bloody stupid things in my time but I’ve always had respect! The moment I realised how you’d set me up I let my guard down to it…”
“You always made a habit of doing that, didn’t you? You’ll never learn, Alex.” Her movements were fluid and I never saw what she did, just felt the dagger as it pierced my gut. I never stood a chance. “Shhh..” She whispered to me as I collapsed. She fell with me, but gracefully as if she had all the time in the world. She sat on top of me and twisted the knife. “Shhh.. it will soon be over… Bleed for me and it will be done. You may have cleansed Slaughley but it’s just one square on our board; there are plenty of others. Lie still, this won’t hurt a bit.” She twisted the blade deeper. It was then that she stopped and looked at me, alarm registering in her eyes. She saw the dagger in my stomach and the gaping wound that was now appearing in her own.
“That’s the thing about offering oneself as sacrifice. If it’s accepted it’s better than a get out of jail free card. I made a promise that I would bring the people who perpetrated this travesty to justice and now that I’ve found you,  I guess I have. It’s you that never stood a chance, Ruth.”
I pushed her away from me and took out the knife from my expansive gut; there was no wound. Ruth, on the other hand, was now bleeding badly.
“Please.. finish me.” She begged.
“You must think I’m daft!” I spat. “No, I’m going to watch you suffer, bitch… just as you made all those families suffer.” She tried to push me away to escape but I was having none of that. I got the spear which was liberally coated with the blood from her dogs and broke it into three pieces. With each crack I heard the bones in her body break, such was the power of sympathetic magic.
She pleaded for me to forgive her and I tried to remember all that she had done for me, but all I could see was the face of Amy Brown as the curse worked its way through her body, and I watched the life’s blood drain from Ruth. When I was sure she was dead I took great pains to burn her place the fuck down.

There was no way she was coming back this time….

Sunday 22 October 2017

Doctor Who - Initiation

Doctor Who, The Sontarans, Cybermen, the TARDIS and Daleks are all copyright of the BBC. This is my homage to the wonderful stories I grew up with and, hopefully, the first of many short stories.

“Well, that didn’t go according to plan.” A strained light greeted the Traveller as he opened his eyes fresh to the new world around him. The same as it ever was, he thought to himself, but it now felt different.. or maybe he felt different.
The lights pulsated with a sickening glow, refracting off the cream walls. There were circular roundels interspersed along the corridor he found himself in, all seemed to be made of a different material to the walls; they have a plastic sheen to them.
As he pushed himself off the ground, which felt surprisingly warm to the touch now –as if it was alive somehow- he could hear a faint tolling of a giant bell. It was a sound that the Traveller recognised; almost as if it was himself that was ringing.
“That’s the Cloister Bell.” He said to himself in a voice that he didn’t recognise. Something bad must have happened for him to change like this, but what?
He’d had bad regenerations before but had always remembered something about the events leading up to it…. There’s that word –regeneration. It sounded wrong but felt right.
Ok, so something bad had happened, and that was probably why the Cloister Bell was ringing and so it stood to reason that the two events were linked. William Occam was a very pragmatic man, but had no head for heights, or women… or drink, for that matter. Actually, he could be a bit of a stick in the mud at times and a bit lazy too, which was probably why he never shaved… Wait… that didn’t make sense. He had met William, but the man he had met was the exact opposite of that; so what was going on?
Something was definitely wrong. He tried focusing his mind and it felt jagged. A sharp splinter of pain stopped him from progressing any further and he opened his eyes again just in time to see the lights fade a little more. This was more serious than he at first thought; he was deep in the TARDIS, deeper than he had ever been before and he knew that he could easily get lost if he took the wrong turning; especially in the shape he was in now. It was entirely possible to wander the corridors for a lifetime and never retrace your steps. But was the alternative really to go deeper?

Commander Skrakz, as well as being a proud warrior of the Sontaran race, had one major ability: to sniff our power; whether the energy stores of a Tyrolian battle cruiser, the fortified generators on the planet A0 or the quasi-mystical artefacts on Rvenworld. On a landing party he was always sent on ahead as an advanced scout and so it stood to reason that when the Sontaran’s invaded Gallifrey and took control of the TARDIS, he was to be the first to find where the T-Mat gun was hidden.
What he didn’t bank on was getting completely lost within the morass of corridors, nor did he expect to be engaged in deadly combat with one of his ancestral enemies: the Cybermen; well, just the one.
He been wandering for an eternity it seemed, and had almost blocked out the sheer monotony; and certainly ceased to pay any attention to his surroundings; and so was caught off-guard completely by the Cyberman’s gun; which, on any normal day, would have killed him outright (probic vent or no) but it didn’t. It did send him flying down the corridor though, yet he managed to roll with the blow and came back with his own gun blazing, taking the Cyberman by surprise.
Shockingly, the blast did no damage to the Cyberman either.
Skrakz got up off the floor and shot him a couple more times for good measure, point blank range. The Cyberman simply stood there and took it before firing back at Skrakz who was too close to duck himself. It hurt, hurt like hell, but it did very little damage to him.
There was only one explanation, they had both been inside the TARDIS for so long that they had been changed by its energies somehow. The logical solution was for them to team up and find a way to escape; but the Cyberman was far too pompous and arrogant to align himself with a lower carbon-based life-form and took another shot at Skrakz for good measure.
That was that, not only did Skrakz need to find a way out but he also had to find a way of killing an indestructible Cyberman. It wasn’t all bad then.

The Traveller had been walking for an age as well. Time had no meaning now, but when had it ever? His had now throbbed in time with the lights, each one exacerbating the other. Even though it seemed as if he was walking in one direction he felt as if he was going down, endlessly deeper. He could hear the slight wheezing-groan of the TARDIS’ circulatory system. He had often kidded Adric that the TARDIS was alive;, a living, feeling organism but he’d never really explored that idea himself, until now. It was like taking a walk inside the darkest parts of his own psyche, which was bad enough for a human (or Alzariun, for that matter) but much worse for a Timelord, especially himself.
Adric! That’s what was missing… there were no companions to bounce ideas off of, procrastinate to… keep him sane. Where was?  Why had she??
He had to remember –it seemed vitally important that he remembered.
Actually, it had all started to go wrong with the Adric. He had run through that episode in his head a thousand ways and there was no way it could have ended any differently. For once the Cybermen had a fool-proof plan: they had manoeuvred him away from Adric and the star cruiser, never realising that Adric possessed the wherewithal to sabotage their plans enough to throw it into a time-warp. The resulting explosion destroyed Adric but paved the way for the beginning of man, poetic in a way.
Death had a way of finding out the Traveller, but this was the first time it had taken someone so close to him. Yes, there were times that Adric had been like a lost puppy and even annoying, but he had been a teenager; very bright, talented.. he should have had an exceptional future, but then he had met the Traveller.
Was that why he had so willingly sacrificed his own life for Peri; an act of contrition for his sins?
It seemed that for all the good he had tried to do there was always bloodshed that surrounded him. How many races had he had a hand in destroying? The Krynoids, The Silurians, The Sea Devils, the Vervoids… That many more would have died if he had not intervened was not an issue… was death drawn to him somehow?
He had grown so sick of fighting that he had become a recluse rather than get involved in the Time War, but even then he had been left with no choice but to intervene. A decision had to be made and, as usual, he was the only one that could make it.
That knowledge haunted him, made him reckless. He over-compensated, his ego reacting to such a degree that the worries of the worlds could no longer get to him. And all through his companions reminded him just how precious life was, how important it was to keep it all in perspective.
But now he was alone again. Very much alone and walking deeper into himself. He knew that there were vast energies this deep in the TARDIS. There was a sect in the history of his people, where they actually bonded with their TARDIS in such a way that they became one; the TARDIS becoming an extension of the Timelord, or was it the other way around?
He had deliberately kept away from the lower levels, fearful of what he would encounter. One had to be ‘clear’ and of one mind to enter congress with the TARDIS and the Doctor had never been of one mind about anything.
Things had gotten so much worse, then, since Adric had died. There was a darkness that had never been apparent to him. He’d seen the worst that the universe could throw at him and he had always returned it with a pithy comeback or putdown. But with Adric dying the stakes had suddenly been raised. This was no longer a game; everything he did had ramifications and he saw the consequences of that as the Valeyard reared his ugly head. The Valeyard, who conspired with his own people to dispose of him! The Valeyard, his own evil coalesced into one being, no remorse and no empathy; more devious and deadly even than the Master.
That was why he kept away from the heart of the TARDIS. It was prophesised that the Valeyard would be born between the 12th and 13th regenerations but what if he lied about that as well? The Valeyard knew that the Doctor would do everything in his power to prevent such a thing from happening, so what if it happened now?
Time had a habit of happening regardless of the protestations of even a Timelord.
He knew that there was no way back. The walls had even closed behind now and were closing around him, forcing him to go onwards. The TARDIS wanted him to move forwards. It was time for his initiation.

Skrakz was troubled, there seemed to be no way out; for the countless years that they must have been battling he had no sense of traversing levels. Initially he had walked down stairs and slopes and there had been a sense of depth, but since battling that walking scrap-pile it was like they were walking in circles, but the internal configurations kept changing, which was incredible and unnerving.
No one knew much about the TARDIS; it had been a priority to capture one and study –possibly even reverse engineer one- and it had been one of the reasons behind the initial invasion of Galifrey. The planet itself had no specific military value –their non-interference policy made them weak and decadent; they were no longer warriors. But their time and dimensional craft? What a prize! With ships able to traverse both space AND time the war with the Rutans would be over even before it began!
If the TARDIS was indeed a living organism, as Skrakz was now beginning to believe, then he and the Cyberman were little more than bacteria running through the equivalent of a scab. But how long before the TARDIS tired of the infection and did something of a more permanent nature?

For the Cyberman only one thing mattered: the destruction of the Sontaran. Everything else was secondary. If it meant destroying the TARDIS as well then so be it; it was perfectly logical.

The Valeyard was an inevitability. It had happened, he had happened so it had to happen. He was the Doctor’s responsibility and the Doctor was responsible for him, but this time he had a choice. He refused to allow his darker side to dictate what happened. Too many times had he permitted genocide or chosen death as the final solution, too many people had died as a result of his actions. The Valeyard had been a part of him for far too long, but there was no way he would permit it any more.
He knew that the TARDIS wanted him to push forward –ahead of him was an ornate doorway; a complicated locking mechanism barred his way but he could tell that behind the door was the very heart of the TARDIS, and it would be there that the Valeyard would be born. The Doctor would be free of his dark ways, yes, but at what cost? Since his escape from the Matrix there was no telling what the Valeyard had been up to, what horror’s he had inflicted upon space-time. No, he would not permit it again. This was his time to end it. The TARDIS wanted him to move forward.. well, the Doctor had other plans.

Skrakz kept moving. He didn’t need to sleep, eat or drink; for some reason since being inside the TARDIS he hadn’t needed to at all, and since he knew that the Cyberman didn’t need to either they were at a stalemate. One would wonder why they kept moving as it made more sense to stay in one place and fight, but as both of them were immortal the fight would never end until they both agreed to. And the Cyberman would certainly never agree to that.
The trouble was, Skrakz felt pain. He had been taught to ignore it; it was a pre-requisite of being a Sontaran, and one of the things that made them such great warriors; but over the years they had been fighting Skrakz pain-gate had been torn off its hinges. They had tried shooting it out one time and then tried hand-to-hand combat but even that was futile. Both of them healed at the same rate.
In Skrakz more lucid moment he envisaged the TARDIS as not only being alive but also aware. He and the Cyberman were being taught the futility of war, but that was a futile gesture, it itself,  to a Cyberman, who saw things very logically: kill or be killed.
And it was the same for the Sontarans too; or had been until now. Skrakz was beginning to see the truth behind it, but how could he end this war? For this to be over BOTH parties had to agree to end it but the Cyberman would only end it when he was dead. But he couldn’t die.

The Cyberman, contrary to what Skrakz believed, had also realised the futility of the battle, but only in logical terms. Since he could not destroy the Sontaran himself, it stood to reason that many Cybermen could: there was strength in numbers after all. The Cybermen were a hive mentality; one only had to look at the tombs on Telos to understand this. So the Cyberman had to find the control room of the TARDIS and transmit a homing signal for whatever fleet was in the vicinity. Sooner or later he would be answered. It was childs-play for him to retrace his pathway back, it was almost as if the TARDIS was allowing him easy access to it; but that could never have entered the Cyberman’s logical brain.

There was no reason for the Doctor to move anymore. He had had enough and so he sat down, facing the door. Enough of the fighting; of never really winning; of being the Timelord’s occasional cat’s-paw. He had been called stubborn throughout his many regenerations, by the narrow minded humans that had accompanied him; as if they had any inkling of how a Timelord’s mind worked.
But even Borusa, his old mentor, had often called him stubborn too.. and so had the Master. Oh well; now was the time to prove them right, for if he chose to do nothing then there was no way for the Valeyard to be born. Most decisions that the Doctor had made often backfired in the long run anyway, so he would circumvent logic this time and do nothing. This behaviour could easily be conceived as being infantile but he was only 879 so what could anyone expect? He smiled at that.
The gun-muzzle pressure against the side of his head froze his smile into a grimace.
“Commander Skrakz, I presume.” He spoke calmly, never once letting the creeping fear show in his voice.
“I’m impressed, Doctor. We’ve never met, I’m sure.”
“Blame the TARDIS; at this depth I’ve almost become one with it. The telepathy is just a bi-product of it, I’m afraid.”
“And that means you know what brings me here and what my problem is. Our problem now.”
“Well, it must be quite the conundrum for you –an un-killable foe. Just what are you to do, hmm? What are you going to do….. Now you know how others feel when faced with the inevitability of the great Sontaran battle fleet.”
“The irony is not lost on me, Timelord. Due to the sheer protracted nature of this conflict and the mutating energies of your… craft, I now feel the true futility of war; and it doesn’t rest well on my shoulders.”
“Will wonders never cease? A Sontaran who’s lost the taste for war? Maybe there’s hope yet. What’s next? A Dalek with a sense of humour? Still I see no reason why this should have anything to do with me, Skrakz. I can’t help but see parallels to the saying ‘As you sow, so shall you reap!’”
“Nothing to do with you? It has everything to do with you, Sir!”
“YOU invaded Galifrey. YOU boarded the TARDIS… leave me out of it.”
“Have you gone mad, Timelord?”
“Not yet…”
“There is a Cyberman… an indestructible Cyberman on the ship. By now he has almost certainly found his way back to your console room. Now, if it was me, I’d be trying to contact my mothership.”
“So why haven’t you?”
“It’s not for want of trying, Doctor. I have tried going back over my steps, but it’s almost as if your machine has been leading me down here! And what do I find? A petulant Timelord whelp!”
“Sending you down here to me?” The Doctor paused and thought. The realisation hit him hard and he stood suddenly and banged his fists on the TARDIS wall. “NO!” He shouted. “NO! I won’t let you do this to me. I know what you’re trying to do but it’s not going to work. I won’t let it!”
“You are going mad, Timelord. Who are you talking to?”
“None of your damned business. Just go away.”
“I don’t think you understand. The Cyberman is contacting reinforcements. They could be here soon.”
“It’s you who doesn’t understand –I don’t care. He can’t get out and they won’t be able to get in. What you are going to do is something I care very little about!”
“Well then; let me put it into language that you will understand. You will help me or you will die.”
“Listen… If I go through that door, I’ll change. You may not notice the change but I will give birth to an entity that could very easily wreak havoc on the entire fabric of space-time. I have an opportunity to stop that from happening. Your threats mean nothing to me, Skrakz. Kill me and I will regenerate. I hope you have patience.”
“We Sontaran’s are not only gifted in the acts of war, Doctor, but also in the subsidiary arts. In order to be an optimal warrior we must understand physiology. To kill effectively one must know the body; one door to the learning of pain thresholds is through torture. Yes, you will die, several times and regenerate but only after days and weeks of torture. Dare you put yourself through that just to stave off inevitability? It has happened already, you can not stop that.”
“You wouldn’t…”
“I am not even going to dignify that with an answer. I need you to sort out the Cybertrash; what you choose to do then is not my concern; only that you allow me to rendezvous with my own contingent. In order to do that you will … you must enter that doorway.”
The Doctor looked at Skrakz and called his bluff, turning his back to Skrakz.
“Very well. You leave me no choice, Timelord.” A sharp cracking noise forced the Doctor to change his mind and walk towards the door. It may only have been the Sontaran cracking his knuckles but why take the chance? This regeneration certainly brought out the more practical side of him… “For what it’s worth, I wish you luck for what you face in there, Timelord.”
“Damn you, Skrakz..”

That’s the trouble with regenerations, you never know what you’re going to be lumbered with, thought the Doctor, thought the Doctors. One went to heaven, two sailed away; four five, six and seven walked a mile for every day; forever and ever and ever in a day.
Laughter, insane laughter filled the Doctor’s mind, realising it was his own laugh, but not his voice. A dark, deep, booming laugh, cascading and reverberating in the darkness that surrounded him; shivering like waves on an invisible beach.
Tremors of instability traversed his soul, wrenching him in two. This was how his universe died, he thought; they thought.
“You’ve been tricked, Doctor.” He spoke to himself. “All this time you thought you were in control but it’s been me. It’s always been me and now it always will be.” He knew the voice now, as well as his own. “Give in to my inevitability, revel in our union. The universe owes us a debt of gratitude and now is the time to collect. We can take whatever we choose –who can stop us?”
“I will.”
“How? You couldn’t even stop yourself from coming in here. You’ve always been a coward! So how can you fight me? Fight yourself instead.”
“I won’t fight you –not like this, I can’t. … and maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong.”
“You talk in riddles to bide your time, Doctor. Fool yourself, then; you don’t fool me. The time for delaying is over. Give in to me.”
“Give in, yes. To you, no. You’re right –as you are now there’s always a chance you could consume me. But by expelling you from myself you become subject to the laws of space and time; of causality. You become vulnerable. You become real.”
“No –you would not do such a thing.”
“Already have done it, Valley…. Already have, as you said. It’s an inevitability. Now… come on out; it won’t hurt… much!”
From the darkness came the Doctor. Then the one became two, split down the middle, both halves screaming; two identical halves from which another grew. The Valeyard, an almost mirror image, opposite in every way to the Doctor that stood staring back at him, now smiling.
“You know? I haven’t felt this good in AGES! No more mania, no angst; just positive well-being at a core level. Thank you, Valley. If I’d known it felt this good to be rid of you then I would’ve done it YONKS ago.”
“Die, Doctor… DIE!” The Valeyard lunged at the Doctor, talon-like fingers tearing at his throat only to fall right through him. The Timelord turned to look at his prone body.
“Some of the TARDIS’ doing, no doubt. Temporary instability to stop us from killing each other.”
“There will be a reckoning, Doctor. Mark me.”
“Well, of course there will be… but not now!”
“I will see you on the battlefield when you least expect it!”
“Do you know any other clichés? This town ain’t big enough for the both of us?”
“Cretin.”
“Just go.”  As so the Valeyard faded from the TARDIS leaving the Doctor alone in the dark once more. “Blimey – what a bore! Hope I never turn out like that.”
There was now a light in the distance, another door, to which the Doctor walked towards, whistling a jaunty tune of his own devising.

Skrakz looked upon the changed visage of the Timelord with some bemusement. Something was different about him, but what?
“Dear God, man –have you never seen a smile?”
“Watch your tongue, Timelord. Never belittle me again.”
“Sorry… sorry. Look; are you coming or not?”
“What do you mean?”
“To stop the Cyberman, of course. This way, I think.” He walked back to the door he has just come from.
“Are you still mad? Has the encounter warped your mind? The control room is that way.” Skrakz pointed behind him.
“Not anymore. The TARDIS and I have come to an understanding. Follow me and don’t do anything unless I tell you. Find the auxiliary door button. You’ll know it when you see it… it’ll probably flash at you convincingly. When I say so, hit it and hold on to something.”

They walked through the door and to Skrakz amazement walked into the console room, right behind the Cyberman, who was now plugged in to the console itself.
“Cyberman! Stop what you’re doing; it won’t help you anyways, y’know. The TARDIS has been blocking your transmissions.”
The Cyberman unplugged and turned around, brandishing the gun in one fluid moment but something made it stop.
“Phew – perhaps there’s a wee bit of your brain that sees some logic to what I said. Equally, you must know that I’m the only one that can possibly return you to your people. I certainly won’t kill you and Skrakz… well, he can’t; can you, Skrakz?”
“No, Timelord.” Every synapse, every muscle in the Sontaran’s body screamed to make the kill shot, prove the Doctor wrong, but he knew that he couldn’t. Damn him; it was bad enough that he had to admit such a thing, but did the Cybertrash have to witness it as well?
“What do you propose?” The Cyberman replied after a few seconds of computation.
“Lower the weapon and we’ll discuss options.”
“Try to double-cross me and we will see if you are as indestructible as your Sontaran lapdog.” One more insult like that and Skrakz would show the Cyberscrap just what a lapdog could do.
The Cyberman lowered his weapon and the Doctor edged over to the opposite end of the console. Skrakz looked at the control panel in front of him and, sure enough, there was a single button that seemed to wink at him. That must be the auxiliary door release. He looked to the Doctor, who had found a convenient place to stand, his hands at the ready.
“Right.” The Doctor said to the Cyberman. “Thank you for trusting me.”
“Trust? You know us better than that, Timelord. It is logical to do what you say at this time. Until you prove me otherwise, and I am ready for that as well.”
“True… well, in front of you is a screen. Now on the screen is a blue dot and that’s us. And to the far right is a triangular blob and that’s your fleet. Now do you know what the quickest way is for you to reach them?”
The Cyberman looked at the screen and then back to the Doctor.
“FLY!” The Doctor shouted and nodded at Skrakz, who slammed his fist down on the button forcing the doors to swing open, creating a vacuum in the Console Room. Both he and the Doctor found strong hand-holds but the Cyberman was caught completely by surprise and was not so lucky. Before he had a chance to even raise his gun he was sucked out into space, and with another stab of Skrakz’s fist, the doors swung shut. The Doctor immediately re-established a breathable atmosphere, leaving a new unforeseen problem: what was to happen now?

Time passed. The TARDIS landed on CHO-Tep, one of the Sontaran colonies. He and Skrakz stepped out in to the dank, gas laden atmosphere.
“The offer still stands. It would be my honour to have you as a companion, Commander Skrakz.”
“I’m not sure whether I can legitimately answer that, Doctor… But my place is here, with my people. Who knows, perhaps there is an alternative to our warrior lifestyle, after all.”
“Who knows, indeed.”
“But… as distasteful as this sounds coming from my lips.. I am beholden to you, Doctor. You saved my life, and helped me defeat the Cyberman.”
“Despite having the threat of eternal torture to chivvy me along, eh?”
“Despite that. You know me to be an honourable breed and I will repay you should you ever call on me. I will be there.”
“Thank you, Commander. And let’s hope that I never have to call. Hmm?”
Shaking hands, the Doctor took one last look around him and darted back into the TARDIS. It was only a matter of minutes before the Sontarans picked them up on the scanners and Skrakz was going to have a hard enough time explaining things, as it was.

That left the Traveller with another predicament: what to do now…. He still didn’t understand what had caused his regeneration, or remember any of the events leading up to it. Was it some universal catastrophe that was still happening, or simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

There was no way of knowing. Time would tell, it normally did. Still, with the Valeyard’s influence gone he no longer felt the need to brood over it. It would all sort itself out in the end, one way or another. Time would tell, in deed.