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About Deviant Artist Core Member Jay McIntyreMale/United States Groups :icondc2-dc-comic-fan-art: DC2-DC-Comic-Fan-Art
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Brian Waters
code name "Targeter"
Born: October 4, 1989 in Leeds, UK
5 foot 11 inches. Blonde hair, green eyes.

Background: Originally a member of the British SAS, he was recruited by a (classified) British agency who also gave him an arm-mounted xenon laser weapon.  Political maneuvering in Parliament meant the funding for his agency was cut.  After a brief but effective tour in the Middle East, he was recommended for the Guardian A.N.G.E.L.S. division.  His laser almost sent him to the Avenging division instead, but he's neither a heavy enough hitter nor trigger-happy enough to qualify.  He is happy enough to be a Guardian.

Personality: He gets along well with most other operatives, if a bit distant.  Only two things really annoy him; totally disorganized people, and foolish political maneuverings by politicians and military brass who aren't "on the ground" facing the threats.  Good at taking orders, going into action and saving the day; not so good at forward thinking or long term planning.

Plot Hooks: His former disbanded British agency had some troublemakers in it's ranks who might potenially come looking for him.

Personal Quote: "On target!"
A.N.G.E.L.S. Recruit: Brian Waters
for Branded-Curse 's "I want YOU to join A.N.G.E.L.S." contest
Then and Now, part 2
by Jay McIntyre

Brent, London

12 February, 1993

The TARDIS materialized in a dirty alley. A bitter wind was blowing, and snow was coming down fairly heavily.

There was a pause, then the door opened. The Doctor, Amy and Rory stepped out, all dressed for the winter weather.

The Doctor looked up, expression unreadable. “A cold winter's night in London....”

“So?” Rory asked.

“It reminds me of something.”

“You've been everywhere,” Amy pointed out. “Everywhere reminds you of something.”

“Something specific,” the Doctor said. “Something from long ago.”

“How long ago?” Rory asked. “From before the.....the....”

“Before the Time War,” the Doctor agreed. “Yes.” He drew a deep breath. “Come along, Mr. and Mrs. Pond!”

Amy chuckled, and Rory sighed. They followed him.

The snow was heavy; Amy hoped they wouldn’t be out in it for long.  Rory just hoped they were here for a purpose.

The Doctor’s face was thoughtful.  He led them to a wide avenue, and was considering a narrower street.

“What are you looking for?” Rory asked after a few minutes of the chilly snow coming down upon them.

“For someone I met long ago....and for those that hunt him.”  He took out his sonic screwdriver and activated it, twirling it around in the snowy darkness.  It’s green light spun around as he turned, irritating Rory and Amy as it flashed in their eyes.  “I’ve been waiting for this day....well, much longer than you’ve been alive.”

He said it in an easy, jocular tone.  But as Amy’s vision cleared, she saw ancient depths in his eyes.  Every so often she saw the Time Lord he really was; the ancient Gallifreyan who had lived so long, beyond the death of the rest of his people that should never have happened.

There was no arrogance in the Doctor’s voice.  On the surface there was humor, but beneath....Amy could tell there was weariness.  

Rory, for his part, was equal parts annoyed and impressed.  “What, did someone leave you a message in the past, like River?”

“Not in that sense, no.  But like River, I met this person out of order.  What I know for sure is that we’ll rescue him from some sort of threat.  What exactly, I don’t know, except that it’s my usual forte.”

“Your usual forte?” Rory echoed.

“Monsters,” the Doctor said, simply.  He raised his sonic screwdriver again and turned away.

Amy and Rory looked at each other.

“He’s in that sort of mood, is he?” Rory muttered.

“Just roll with it, you goof,” she answered, grinning.  But she knew what he meant.

“I can hear you, you know,” the Doctor’s voice called back.


The Doctor led them down a side street.  “Sonic screwdriver’s picking up all kinds of alien activity.  That’s the problem with Earth; too inviting.  Not just for every would be conqueror or infiltrator; but also plenty of exiles and fugitivies, too.  I was even exiled here for a while.  Long time ago.  Point is, there’s plenty of aliens to go around.  Trouble is, finding the right one.”

“So how do you know you’re close?” Rory asked.

The Doctor flashed a smile.  “Because  when I met this fellow in the future, he told me generally where.”

“Hang on, the future?” Rory stopped.

“The future, my past.  Time travel, you know.”

“Oh, the wibbly wobbly.”

“There you go,” Amy said, nudging him.

“Yes,” the Doctor agreed.  “Anyway, there are six different alien sources in the general vicinity.  Question is, which is the right one?  Or rather, the wrong one.  The threat.”

Before Rory or Amy could answer, there was a scream.

The boy came running out of an alleyway.  His heavy jacket was torn open, the hood fallen back as he ran in terror.  His face was pale, eyes wide and staring.

The Doctor stepped into his path and grabbed him by the shoulders.  “Easy there, Gregory.  What are you running from?”

The boy snapped out of his mindless terror, staring at the Doctor.  He did not yet have the greying hair of his older self, nor the cynical veneer.  He was terrified.  “H-how do you know my name?”

“I’ll explain later.  What I know now, is that you’re running from something horrible.  But not what.”

“My friends....they...they were taken by these....giant green.....things!”

The Doctor’s mouth formed a thin line.  “Show me.”


Young Gregory led them to a dirty alleyway.  He was clearly trembling at every step, and did not want to come back here.  Twice, he asked the Doctor if he was sure he wanted to do this.  He was obviously terrified.  

“Um, Doctor.”  Amy tugged on his sleeve.  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be taking him back here?”

The Doctor looked at Gregory.  “She makes a good point.  Do you want to stay up here?”

Gregory’s pale face looked back at them, considering.  Then he said, “No, they’re my friends.  I shouldn’t have left them.  Besides, what are you going to do down there, anyway?”

The Doctor did not smile.  “Deal with the problem.”

Gregory and his two friends had been tearing around the streets.  They weren’t thugs--Gregory was adamant--but they were bored, with nothing to do.

Then they had found...something in the alleyway.  Two large green creatures had taken his friends down below; they were huge, lumbering beings.  They had been strapped into not-quite-upright contraptions.  Gregory was meant for the same fate, but the second lumbering giant had only a loose grip on his wrist, mostly occupied with one of his friends.  They were ferociously strong, but not very agile.  He had torn away and fled, sobbing in fear.

Now, the Doctor took the lead.  At the end of the alleyway, there was a hole in the dirty ground.  Below, after the smallest of gaps, was a bulging metal surface with an open hatch.  

“I wonder how long it’s been here,” the Doctor said.  “They can’t have built London over it without anyone noticing.  And there is no evidence of Stealth technology.  So they must have landed here at some point in the past, and gone dormant.  Before the city was built.  Some ancient time, as you reckon it....and the people of that time prodded at the mystery and, unable to affect it, eventually ignored it.  Then their heirs built over it.”

“How could they be alive after all this time?” Rory asked.

“And who are they?” Amy put in.

“Hibernation could last any amount of time, with the appropriate technology.  As for whom....I’m not sure yet, but I have some very nasty suspicions.”

“I hope they haven’t killed my friends yet.” Gregory said, a nervous twang in his voice.  

What are their names?” the Doctor asked the young man as they slowly desecended.

“Mark and Nick,” Gregory said.

They reached bottom.  There was a small antechamber.  The walls were cold metal, but dripping condensation.  

“Yuck!” Amy made a face.

“Indeed,” the Doctor frowned.

They would have asked Gregory which way to go, but there was only one way; through the antechamber, into a long corridor.

The corridor led to another, roughly oval-shaped chamber.  Mark and Nick were there, trembling and shivering in the contraptions, eyes closed.  There were four other such contraptions.  Two were occupied, two were empty.

A  slim green form came from behind the abductees.

“Ice Warriors,” the Doctor said, voice grim and unsurprised.  “I thought so.”

“You know us, human?” the creature rumbled.

“It talks!” Gregory interjected.

“Of course it talks,” Amy said.

“No, but English!”

“We hear English.  The Doctor’s...craft....translates.”

Gregory wanted to ask more questions, but the Doctor cut him off.  “I know your people,” the Time Lord said to the Martian, “Yes.  I’ve met them before.  I know that you are an Ice Lord, a commander of this expedition, whatever form it takes.  And I am no human.”

“Delusional,” the Ice Lord said.  “You will join the other experimentees...”

“Or we will die,” the Doctor said.  “Yes, I’ve heard it all before.  By all means, threaten us.  Blah blah blah, you will conquer the Earth, unlimited rice pudding, et cetera.”

“This is no threat,” the Ice Lord lifted his claw, which glowed softly with it’s inbuilt weapon.  “This is death.”

The Doctor sighed.  “I know.”  He raised his sonic screwdriver.

The Ice Lord fired.....but his weapon exploded.  He screamed, stumbling backwards.  The Doctor darted forward and gently tapped the creature on it’s helmet, and it slumped into unconsciousness.

Rory and Amy were shocked; even Gregory seemed less than happy.

“Doesn’t seem your usual style,” Rory finally said.

The Doctor shook his head.  “He meant to fire his weapon.  It’s sonic-based, like the screwdriver.  I caused it to backfire.  He’ll survive.  But if the Martians won’t listen....”  His eyes were bleak.

“Martian?” Gregory exclaimed.

“You called them Ice Warriors,” Amy put in.

The Doctor nodded.  “That’s what they call themselves.”

Gregory raced over to his friends, frantically tugging at their restraints.  But even as he did, his eyes were sparking.  “I thought space exploration had proven that--”

The Doctor cut him off.  “Take a look around.”

Gregory shook his head.  “Yes, of course.  It’s”

The Doctor smiled without humor.  “Even the Martian invasion of 1996, referred to by some as ‘The Dying Days’, will be refuted as a Hoax even after it happens.  It won’t be until the next century until aliens are accepted as real by the general public.”

Gregory stared.  “What?”

Amy smiled and nudged him.  “You get used to it.  Come on, let’s get your friends out of these things.”

“An excellent suggestion,” the Doctor agreed.  He freed Mark, while Gregory, Amy and Rory worked on Nick’s bonds.  “Amy, get Gregory and his friends out of here.  Rory, with me.”

“I’m not leaving you!” Amy protested.

“Then come back once they’re safe.”

Gregory had an objection of his own.  “But I so want to study this technology!”

The Doctor turned to him.  “Gregory, listen to me.  We’ll meet again, when you’re older.  I’ll be younger, though I’ll have a middle aged face and a gaudy coat, and look nothing like I do now.  You’ll have spent all the intervening years studying things like this.  Because now you know about’ll never forget.”

Gregory stared at him for maybe twenty long seconds, before Amy yanked at his shoulder, almost angrily.  “Come on!”  The young man blinked, opened his mouth, then shut it again and followed her as she chivvied his two half-dazed friends along.

Rory looked at the Doctor.  “Uh....”

“Gregory described two giant creatures.  The Ice Lord--a commanding officer, if you will--doesn’t fit that description by any means.  Which means there are at least two Ice Warriors wandering the base.”

“Unless they’re still on the surface!” Rory protested

The Doctor nodded.  “If so, Amy and the boys will have the good sense to run.  But I rather think they’re still down here.  In fact, we’re lucky they didn’t come when we rescued Gregory’s friends, or when I stunned the Ice Lord.”.

They moved on, into the bowels of the ship.  Down a long corridor.  There were deep rumbling voices to the left.

“Do we need more subjects?,” one of them asked.

“We have not been commanded to find more yet,” a second voice answered.  “Lord Xazerr probably is satisfied with the two we have, at least for now.”

“Tissue samples,” the first voice grunted.  “What’s the point?”

“The point,” the second voice said with some real anger, “Is that we do not question orders!”  there was a pause, then the voice went on in a more reasonable tone.  “The Lords always study the enemy.”

“These aren’t enemies,” the first voice went on, subdued and suitably chastened.  “They are easily conquerable.”

“Worker younglings,” the second voice corrected.  “But useful for studying their biology.”

“I have spoken dishonorably,” the first voice said.  “It was probably the long sleep.”

The second voice gurgled Martian laughter.  “No, you were always sour tempered, even in the old days of home!  But it is no matter.  Enjoy the respite while it lasts.  You know we’ll be sent out again soon enough.”

The first voice didn’t laugh, but there was humor in it’s tone now.  “You are right.  Take rest when it comes, and where we can find it.”

The Doctor exchanged a look with Rory, who spoke in a low voice.  “What if Gregory’s friends are....I dunno, indoctrinated or something?”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” the Doctor whispered back.  “But I’ll check on them after this is over.”

“If we get out of here,” Rory muttered.

“Have faith Rory,” the Doctor chided him.  “Despair is not cool.”

Rory snorted.  “So how do we take them out before they hear us?”

“I’m tempted to use the sonic screwdriver again but....they’re likely to adapt.”

“Even though we’ve got the drop on them?”

“Even then.  Their technology is sonic-based also, and as such is very responsive to such intrusions.”


“So,” the Doctor grinned, “We do it the old fashioned way.  Help me with this panel.”

Carefully and quietly they began to remove a wall panel.  In the adjacent chamber, the Ice Warriors were still muttering to themselves about waking up more of their kind from stasis.  Apparently no more of their kind had been ‘thawed’ yet; small blessings.

Rory watched the Doctor study the messy collection of wires and thick green connection boxes that glowed with green traceries of light in the opened panel; it looked like somebody had taken 80s tech and turned it surreal.

“Let’s see...ahh yes.”  The Doctor fished in his pockets and brought out two pairs of thin leather gloves.  “Put these on.  When I tell you, pull at the wires leading into the bottom left box.”  The Doctor put his own gloved hands  on wires leading to the centremost box.  “”

They yanked the wires free, the gloves protecting them from the bright green sparks that resulted.  Power went out in the room and corridor both.  Then there was the hissing of venting gas.  The Ice Warriors shouted in alarm, then started coughing.  

One of them stumbled out into the hallway, hard to see in the darkness.  But Rory knew the Doctor could see better than any ordinary human.  He just crouched down.  

The gas had billowed out of hte room after the Ice Warrior, who was clearly still affected by it.  He gurgled something and raised a claw, but his movementes were feeble, uncoordinated.  His shot went wide and he collapsed.

The Doctor clamped a hand on Rory’s arm and pulled him back.  “Don’t breathe the gas in--for Martians it’s simple knockout gas.  For you.....well, let’s just say Amy would never forgive me.”

Rory got the general idea; his imagination conjured up all kinds of horrors.  “What now?”

“All the Martians are down for the count.  And I think I have a way of handling this without killing them.  But not here.  Let’s go find Amy and the others.”


They found Amy, Gregory and his friends two blocks away, huddling beneath a storefront awning against the blustery snowfall.

Amy hugged Rory, then turned to the Doctor.  “Have you stopped them?”

“At this point, all I’ve done is bought us time.  But now the way is clear to me for a real solution.”

“You hope,” Rory said.

“I hope,” the Doctor agreed,  “And hope is cool.  One more detail first, as you pointed out, Rory.”  He took out his sonic screwderiver and scanned Gregory and his friends.  “Tissue and blood sampling, but no indoctrination.  Get someplace safe.  I expect to be taking care of the Martian ship shortly, but don’t go near it all the same.  But you, Gregory; remember what I said.  Study up on these things, mysterious, alien and outre; and we will meet again.”

Gregory stared at him for a long moment, then nodded.  “Come on guys,” he said to his friends.  “Let’s get out of here.”  Dazedly, his two friends nodded, and the three of them vanished into the swirling snow.

“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” Rory said slowly.  “You met him in your past as a time traveller?”

The Doctor nodded.  “A long time ago.”

“And that’s what the snowstorm reminded you of when we landed here,” Amy reasoned.

“Exactly.  But enough nostalgia.  I said I see the way to deal with the Martians.  Though it will be difficult.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”  Rory asked.

The Doctor sighed.  “Then I’ll have to kill them.”

They both stared at him for a long moment. the snow still swirling down.

Finally, Amy spoke.  “So what do we do, then?”

“We go back to the TARDIS, and hope the old girl’s up to what I have in mind.”


The TARDIS doors opened inward, and Amy and Rory came in, the Doctor just behind them.  “I could just launch the Ice Warrior vessel into space, but that would cause damage to London; I could simply reactivate their hibernation protocols, but that wouldn’t solve the problem.  I’d just have to deal with them again in a few hundred years, or let humanity do so in a more bloody manner at that time.”

“I take it there’s a third option,” Amy said.

The Doctor nodded.  “I’m going to try something I haven’t tried for a long time; I’m going to wrap the TARDIS around the Martian ship and try to take it elsewhere.  Far, far away.”

“Will it work?”  Amy asked.

The Doctor blew out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.  “I hope so.”

“So what do we do?” Rory chimed in.

“Wish me luck.  That’s about all you can do.  No offense.”  He leapt up to the console.  “Here we go.”  His eyes focused on the rotor.  “I know you can hear me, old girl; the business with House and the pocket universe showed me that.”

The lights of the console brightened briefly in response.

“So you know what I’m going to try.  I know it’ll be rough on you.  But when has doing the right thing ever been easy?”

This time there was no reply; but Amy and Rory felt a sense of hope that did not entirely come from within themelves.

“Right!”  The Doctor danced around the console, hitting buttons and throwing switches that Rory could’ve sworn hadn’t been there before.  Finally, the Doctor stabbed a dark purple button.

The lights of the console room dimmed, and the grinding of the TARDIS engines could be heard, deeper and more labored than usual.  The room shook; Amy and Rory to clung to each other.  


The hole in the alleyway leading to the Martian ship grew darker still.....then cleared.  Had anyone been looking, they would’ve seen only an empty space, carved out in the rock and stone.


The trumpeting roar of the TARDIS grew louder.

The Doctor continued to dance around the console.  “We’ve got the Martian ship, now to take it someplace safe.”  He went through the usual dematerialization protocols, though this time with a much longer set of coordinates.  “I know it’s a long trip my dear old thing, but you know why....It’s not as bad as towing the Earth, after all.”


The Martian ship ground into reality on a hillside, and a few moments later the TARDIS rematerialized beside it.  

It was a strange world; instead of grass, the hill was covered with something like moss, which was alternatively colored blue and black in strange patterns.  The sky was a golden yellowish color, and there were no clouds to be seen.

Within the TARDIS, the lights had returned to normal.  The Doctor had turned on the viewscreen, so Amy and Rory could see out.  

“Surreal,” Amy said.  “Can we go outside?”

“With breathing masks, yes.  But I’d advise against it.  The Martians will revive before too long, and I don’t think you two want to be out there when that happens.”

“So why don’t we leave, then?” Rory asked.

“Because this was a long trip for the TARDIS, even without the extra burden of the Ice Warrior spacecraft.  She needs to rest at least a little while.  And if the Martians do revive while we’re still here, they won’t be able to get in.”

“Where are we?”  Amy wondered.

“On a habitable planet with no native sentient life.  Your people have no name for it, not even a catalogue number.  It’s in the Lesser Magellanic Cloud.”

“Have you ever been out here before?” Rory asked.

“Further, easily.  But not while carrying extra weight.  That was the problem.”

“Not that I’m exactly sympathetic to the Ice Warriors,” Amy said, “But was it really a kindness to strand them here, so far from home?”

“They’ve got plently of crew still in hibernation, including a few females.  They’ve got enough technology in the ship to start up a basic colony.  They’ll survive.  They won’t be entirely happy, but they’ll survive.”  The Doctor turned to his companions and smiled.  “That was their mission, you know. To colonize a new world.  Now they’ll be able to do it, without threatening your people.  The farthest flung Martian colony.....ever!”

“And that,” Rory said, “Is cool.”

Amy laughed.

“Don’t steal my material,” the Doctor said, but he smiled as he said it.

It was some little while before the TARDIS left that place, but not long after it faded away, the Ice Lord stumbled from the ship, still shaking his head, and stared around in wonder.

Then and Now, part 2 of 2
Originally intended for publication in a fanzine that has since given up on posting fan fiction, and only does articles instead.  I wrote this in 2011, and am finally putting it up here.  Doctor Who is copyright 2015 by the BBC, blah blah blah etc.
Then and Now, part 1
by Jay McIntyre

Falmouth, Cornwall.

1 September, 2011.

The harbor was busy, but not too busy for the locals to start in amazement when a blue box ground into reality on one of the docks.

Inside that blue box, the Doctor and Peri saw everyone staring, via the view screen.

“That.....wasn't supposed to happen,” the Doctor muttered, for once not nearly as loud as his garish patchwork coat.

“Admit it Doctor,” Peri said, “You've had a harder time piloting the TARDIS since you regenerated.”

The Doctor emitted a genuine harrumph, restored to form by her jibe. “I'll have you know that this incarnation is a vast improvement on the last, young lady! I've become the flower of Gallifreyan elegance!”

“I'm a botanist,” she reminded him wearily, “And you're not so much a flower as a weed.”

The Doctor's eyes flashed, and for a moment she saw real anger there; but then the light faded and he snorted. “As a botanist, you should know that weeds are merely those flowers that gardeners choose not to cultivate, much to their detriment.”

“That's debatable.”

“You have the right to debate,” the Doctor corrected her. “That does not mean your argument has merit.”

“Then tell me, oh wise one; what will we do now that you've landed us out in the open?”

“Why, step out and greet the locals, of course! Come Peri, do develop some self confidence!” He shoved the door lever with obviously artificial cheer, and strode out.

Peri rolled her eyes and followed.


As the Doctor and Peri stepped out of the TARDIS, an excited crowd gathered around them. The conversation rose and fell, punctuated by the Doctor's booming voice.

At the edge of the crowd, a middle-aged man with streaks of gray in his hair watched. His attitude was detached, mildly interested. “So finally,” that one muttered to himself, “After all these years, this is how it happens.” Nodding to himself, he pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “It's me, sir. A most...unusual pair of individuals has arrived at the docks. I think they might be of use to us.” Listening to the reply, he smiled. It was not an entirely pleasant smile. “Let's just say I've heard of him.”


Peri had to admit, the Doctor could be charming when he wanted to be. And this....version of him was certainly a natural orator.

He had entertained the crowd for a few moments, pretending it was all part of a publicity stunt. She was amazed how quickly they bought it, and went back to their business, laughing and chattering.

Part of her mind wanted to put it down to him seeming like a jester, but as they moved on into the town, she had to ask. “How did they accept it so quickly?”

“Because,” he said, pitching his voice low and giving her a warning look, “People don't want to believe anything out of the ordinary. Occasionally there are exceptional individuals, like yourself.”

Peri blinked. Had he just paid her a compliment? “Thank you,” she muttered.

“You're quite welcome.”

“Why did we come here again?”

“I was actually hoping for a little vacation time.”

“But?” She prompted.

“I believe you mean however,” the Doctor chided. “In any case, Cornwall is fascinating in it's own right.”

“You really want me to believe that's it?”

For once, he didn't argue; instead, he merely shrugged. “This is where the TARDIS chose to land. When the old girl does that, it's usually for a reason.”

“Including being out in the open like this?” she teased.

“Perhaps,” he allowed. “I'm honestly not certain.”

“The Doctor, I presume,” a voice cut in.

They stopped and turned towards the voice. A middle aged man was looking at them with a bland expression, but his eyes gleamed with intelligence and interest. His hair was black, shot through with premature gray, and his face was covered in stubble, as though he didn't bother to shave that often. To Peri he seemed an unpleasant but not unreasonable man.

“Do I know you?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow at him.

“You don't. But let's just say I'm familiar with your reputation. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gregory Waters.”

“You're not a local,” the Doctor said. “That's a London accent.”

“I'm from Brent,” Gregory agreed. “But I moved here some years ago. My employer has a problem he needs help with. Small scale for a man of your skill, but perhaps of some interest to you.”

“I should be flattered that my reputation precedes me,” the Doctor said, “But I'm not entirely sure I trust you.”

“Nobody said you had to,” Gregory answered. “But I trust you, and hopefully that will be enough.”

“I'll hear you out. I promise no more than that.”

“He found an interesting artifact in his basement, from olden times, apparently. Very old. But we shouldn't talk of such things out here.”

The Doctor and Peri shared a glance. Both of them were wary of this man's quiet confidence. It wasn't smugness—the Doctor knew smugness backwards and forwards in this incarnation—but rather a calm certainty. Peri was worried, and the Doctor didn't like it at all.

“Very old you say,” the Doctor mused. “Well they often say the past is another country.”

“And the further back you go, the more strange it seems,” Gregory agreed. “To the point where it seems to be another world entirely.”

“So you do know me,” the Doctor said.

“In a manner of speaking,” Gregory shrugged. “Will you come?”

“I will come,” the Doctor sighed heavily.


The estate of Gregory's employer was a small but comfortable place under some trees on Park Terrace.

Inside was deep blue wallpaper, portraits on the walls, the occasional bust on a pillar. Aside from Gregory himself, the Doctor only saw one member of staff, a butler. But he had no doubt there were guards on call. The fact that he didn't see them only made him more wary.

But when the butler showed them into the study at the back of the ground floor, some of the Doctor's concerns were eased. Gregory's employer was a polite, wide man with a jovial attitude and friendly eyes. Not a member of the aristocracy, nor a corrupt businessman, either.

“The Doctor, I presume.” He extended a hand. “Gregory speaks highly of you. I am Sydney Lambert.”

The Doctor shook hands. “This is my assistant, Perpugiliam Brown. I confess to not knowing exactly how Gregory is aware of me.”

He waved a hand. “Oh, he's a source of all kinds of esoteric information. It's why I hired him. He realized that that what we found....was very unusual. But he couldn't specifically identify it. He mentioned you, and thought you might be able to.”

“Interesting,” The Doctor murmured, shooting another suspicious look at Gregory.

“I can recompense you for your time and trouble,” Lambert said.

“That will not be necessary,” The Doctor assured him, somewhat stiffly. “Though I may need access to laboratory equipment.”

“Gregory has some basic facilities here,” Lambert agreed. “If something else is necessary, we'll get it for you. I presume you'd like to see the artifact?”

Peri could see curiosity and suspicion warring in the Doctor's expression. Not surprisingly, curiosity won. “We have come this far,” the Doctor conceded


Gregory led the Doctor and Peri down a dark, dank stairwell into the basement, Lambert in the rear.

The basement was large and cold, unsurprisingly. What was surprising was that it was here at all. The Doctor mentioned this.

“Oh, it was here when I bought the place. And we found the artifact down here.”

“Was it sealed off?” Peri asked.

“No, just abandoned. Can't think why.”

The Doctor and Peri exchanged a look.

“Here we are,” Gregory said, leading them to a corner of the large basement, His facilities were small, but adequate, the Doctor judged; microscope, scanner, thermal imager, x-ray, computer. Not low-end models, either.

And just beyond them, on a small plinth, was the artifact.

It was a small, hard, dark green thing, almost like an egg. But it was slightly too wide, at least for a chicken egg, and there was strange, swirling script all over it.

The Doctor bent forward. “Interesting.....not Osiran, not Silurian....hmmmm.....”

“I presume those are alien races?” Lambert asked.

Now it was the Doctor and Gregory exchanging a look.

“Technically the Silurians are not alien,” the Doctor said. “Long story. The Osirans, most definitely. But the point is, it's not either one. Nor do I recognize it. Something new.”

“You can't help us then.” Lambert looked disappointed.

“I didn't say that,” the Doctor huffed indignantly. “If nothing else, I can probably determine some of it's characteristics.” He turned to Gregory. “Any test results I should be aware of?”

Gregory shrugged and made a face. “X-Rays produced nothing. Nor electron microscope. I tried to get the script analyzed, and a couple scholars made joking references to Lovecraft, but that's about it.”

Now the Doctor stiffened. “Lovecraft had his own sources. Do you have their reports?”

“Surely you jest!” Lambert barked laughter.

The Doctor only flicked a glance at him, then returned his attention to Gregory, holding out one hand. “Do you have,” he repeated, “Their reports.”

“Not in printout,” Gregory was glancing back and forth between the Doctor and Lambert. “It's all on the computer.”

“Boot it up then,” the Doctor said impatiently. Peri could tell he was trying to keep his emotions in check.

“Give him whatever he needs,” Lambert said. “But surely we can all admit Lovecraft is not to be taken seriously?”

As Gregory went to the computer, the Doctor turned to face his patron. “Really sir; you hired Gregory for his esoteric knowledge. Is it so strange that some of what he finds may be true?”

“Some, absolutely. I'm just having a hard time accepting this particular bit.”

The Doctor grinned dangerously. Peri knew that look; he was on to something now. “Well, I won't know if it's acceptable either, until he brings up the relevant information. But at this point, I'm not prepared to rule anything out.”

“Here it is,” Gregory called.

The Doctor loomed over his shoulder, eying the screen. “Central America......also the ruins of the Yangshao...”

“The Yangshao?” Peri asked.

“The original Chinese people,” Gregory put in.

“....and finally, a reference from the Kazakh Khanate, in what is now Kazakhstan.”

“Didn't think the bastard political offspring of the Mongol hordes cared about such things,” Lambert said.

The Doctor and Gregory shared a glance. “Not in the archaeological sense, perhaps. But you can see how they'd find something like this....startling, no?” The Doctor raised a brow.

“So that's where it came from? Kazakhstan?”

“Or one very like it. It could be all three are the same, or there could be two or more others of this type scattered throughout the world.”

“So is it alien? Peri asked.

“I think so. Very likely. Fortunately, whatever race put it here seems to have faded away long ago.” The Doctor wrinkled his brow in thought. “Or perhaps they left his Universe entirely?”

“So we can unlock it's secrets?” Lambert asked eagerly. “New technological advancements can be reverse engineered from it?”

The Doctor's face abruptly shifted. Now it looked like some ancient image graved in stone.

Slowly he turned to face Lambert. “So that's your angle, is it.”

If Lambert noticed the cold tone of the Doctor's voice, he ignored it. “I'm always looking for ways to better humanity.”

The Doctor's expression softened a little. But only a little. “Ah, an idealist then. Well, I share your sentiment, sir. But the simple truth is that humanity cannot get ahead of itself. Especially with such an exotic artifact such as this. That's even assuming that technological application is possible.”

“The knowledge alone could change our understand of science!” Lambert protested.

The Doctor nodded. He felt some sympathy for the man. But also in Lambert's eyes he saw the potential for another Davros, or Taren Capel, or even Morbius...the list went on and on. “We don't know enough yet. Let's be careful, yes? We don't want to face any unforeseen consequences.”

For a moment a look passed over Lambert's face as though he thought the Doctor was threatening him. But it passed. “Well, by all means study it. See what you can find.”

The Doctor smiled thinly. “That is indeed my plan.”


“Dangerous, then?” Peri asked, sotto voce.

The Doctor frowned. “As I said, Lovecraft had his sources. The Silurians worshiped the Great Old Ones, amongst others. This has flavours of something the Old Ones create...but I can't swear to it. Something similar, perhaps? Or maybe I'm completely wrong. Whatever it is, it's certainly dangerous.”

“So what do you recommend?” Gregory asked.

The Doctor started, he hadn't noticed he was listening. “To not touch it.”

“Too late!” Peri squealed.

The Doctor and Gregory turned. Lambert was reaching out to touch the thing.

“NO!” The Doctor roared. He rushed forward. “Don't--”

He was too late. Lambert touched the object.

And screamed.

The room was engulfed in green tinted darkness.


The Doctor blinked, then refocused. Slowly and painfully, he got to his feet; it was like forcing himself through treacle.

The green tinted darkness was focused around the object. It didn't shine, exactly, but it glowed eerily, and pulsed.

Lambert's head was thrown back, his mouth open in a soundless scream. He was still touching the object. Gregory was slumped over his keyboard, twitching. Peri was writhing around on the floor.

Green rings of energy pulsed out of the thing, circled around the room and came back to it. There were words in the darkness, and the TARDIS telepathic circuits tried to translate them for him.

Tried to. Something that resembled “Make us strong.” But the Doctor didn't listen. He knew it was mind control. The others wouldn't understand it, but given enough time, they would do whatever it wanted all the same.

He could not allow this.

The green darkness didn't hurt, exactly; but forcing himself through it towards the object required all his strength, and sapped his endurance quickly. He couldn't recall feeling this weary since his original incarnation had reached it's end. But he had no choice. If he failed, this thing would unleash itself upon the world, and perhaps beyond.

The first priority was to break Lambert's physical contact with the thing. Hopefully, that would be enough. If not, he would probably have to touch it himself. He wasn't looking forward to that.

The Doctor's first instinct was to kick Lambert away from the artifact, but the thick green darkness wouldn't allow him to gather the momentum necessary So instead he reluctantly grabbed hold of Lambert's suit, and pulled.

It was even more difficult than he thought it would be. Not only was the treacle-like darkness making it difficult to move, the object also seemed to want to stay attached to Lambert's hand.

In the green darkness, the exhortations to make “us” strong were getting louder, and louder. Soon they would become coherent, and not long after that, unbearable.

The Doctor pulled, against the weight of millennia. Pulled, pulled, pulled....

With a sucking sound, Lambert's hand came free of the object, and everything stopped.


The Doctor staggered, but did not fall. Lambert went down like a tree that had been chopped. Peri was coughing. Gregory was moaning in horror.

The Doctor closed his eyes and steadied himself. When he opened them, his vision slowly and painfully refocused itself.

He helped Peri to her feet; she hugged him and wept into his coat. He gently put his fingertips to her temples and did what he could to clear her mind. Psionics were not this incarnation's strong point. He could hypnotize fairly well, however; perhaps he would do that in the TARDIS later, to help clear the trauma.

Lambert, of course, deserved no such consideration. He glared at the man on the floor, then went over to Gregory, treating him as he had Peri. As Gregory blinked awake, the Doctor eased him out of his chair and leaned him against the wall. Sitting at the computer itself, he checked that it was still functioning and connected to the internet. Once he was satisfied of those things, he emailed UNIT.

Then he got up and faced Gregory. “Are you lucid?”

“Just about,” Gregory said, groggily.

“Good. I've called in UNIT. If you know about me, you know about them, too.”

“I've heard of them.”

“They'll be here to clean up, and I've no doubt they'll put Lambert in prison.” Gregory didn't ask if there would be a trial, and the Doctor didn't mention that there would be one. The Time Lord went on, “Because you showed more sense than your employer, I'll give you one chance: Run.”

Gregory did a double take, then nodded slowly. He didn't run, exactly; but he did stagger for the stairs.

“Are you going to let these....UNIT people deal with that?” Peri pointed a shaking finger at the artifact.

“Oh no. I'll take care of it myself.”


For an answer, the Doctor pulled a large, purple polka-dotted handkerchief from his coat pocket, and carefully wrapped it around the sinister green egg. Tying the ends of the handkerchief together, he slipped the egg into the same pocket. “I'll use the TARDIS to take it somewhere we can safely dispose of it. Now, let's get out of here.”

He looked down at Lambert's comatose form one more time and slowly shook his head.

He led Peri out.


The Doctor and Peri, quiet and shaken, headed back towards the docks in the gathering dusk.

But when they got there, Gregory was waiting for them, looking up at the TARDIS, touching it, his face blandly curious.

“Please step away,” the Doctor said. He was in no mood.

Insolently, Gregory turned, offered a small smile, and leaned against the blue box. “Relax, Doctor. Just a word, before you go.”

“And what word might that be?” the Doctor bit out. Peri tensed. This could get ugly in a hurry.

But Gregory held up his hands, doing his best to placate the Doctor's rage. “Just to answer an earlier question of yours. Yes, I know you, in a way. We'll meet again, you and I; but for me, it will be the first time.”

The Doctor's temper cooled somewhat, and he raised an eyebrow. “You have my attention.”

“It was a cold winter's night in London, eighteen years ago. And you wore a different face.”

The Doctor stood up straight. “And this previous meeting with my future self is why you got into such investigations in the first place, isn't it?”

“Not precisely. I met the monsters first, that time. Then you came in.”

“But you needed to tell me, just as my future self told you,” the Doctor reasoned.

Gregory nodded. “Precisely.”

“Very well; I shall remember that when the time comes. Now,” and the Doctor's face grew grim once more, “Please step away.”

“As you will. I didn't get to see your craft last time; I was curious.”

“Well then, our departure should interest you. In you go, Peri.”

Gregory watched the TARDIS roar into nothingness. He exhaled. For him, it was over. Or at least, he hoped so. Meeting the Doctor twice was more than enough for him.

Now, he would take the Doctor's advice. The South American continent was lovely this time of year. Chile, perhaps...


The Doctor gently shooed Peri out of the control room.

“What are you going to do?” she asked him.

“Take care of our little problem.”

“What about Lambert?”

With the artifact's influence removed, he'll be no threat to anyone. Now please, young Peri. Let me dispose of this.....thing.”

She nodded, looking at him with sad eyes, and wandered down the corridor to her room.

He worked the controls. And the TARDIS soared through the Vortex. His original thought had been to toss it into the sun, but he didn't want whatever archaic radiation that was within the thing to be released, with the sun as a delivery system. He'd also considered tossing it into a black hole, but that presented risks to himself as well, and there was no telling what it would do once absorbed. Also, some black holes were portals to other universes. Normally that didn't matter; anything that got through to the other side was a handful of disassembled particles anyway. But with something like this....

So he settled for deep space. Not just a good ways between stars, but rather the endless deep night between galaxies, where even dark matter failed.

The Doctor opened the doors, but kept the air shell intact and added a one-way defense shield, just in case.

He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket, the insidious weight still inside it, and tossed it out into the void with a throw his previous self would've been proud of. He sealed the doors shut and dematerialized again.

As the TARDIS went on to adventures new, he pondered what had been achieved. A crisis had been averted, but all he felt was weary. Then there was Gregory, who he would meet again some day, for the first time. It troubled him a little bit that he himself might have set Gregory on that particular path. That was the trouble with causality. Especially for a Time Lord.


The green egg floated in the never ending darkness, as it would do until the end of this particular Universe.

To be continued......
Then and Now, part 1 of 2
Originally intended for publication in a fanzine that has since given up on posting fan fiction, and only does articles instead.  I wrote this in 2011, and am finally putting it up here.
Fallen Angels: In the Shadows....

Page One

Mac welcomes the team to the briefing, shushes their usual banter, and briefs them on a henge recently discovered off the western coast of Ireland....

Page Two

Specifically, this is Croaghnakeela Island, off Ireland’s Atlantic coast. (a real place, I looked it up)  A shadowy figure with a distinctive ring on his finger is briefing his troops on securing “the relic below the henge.”  Most of these are garden variety troopers, but the shadow figure’s lieutenant is a skilled swordsman, probably some sort of bastard offspring of aristocracy, with training to know how to use his weapon, no doubt an ancient family heirloom.  Maybe magical?

(I entertained the shadow figure having a video communication with Viper here, then dismissed it as an unnecessary complication)

Page Three

High speed transport (supersonic jet?) gets the team to Ireland quickly, but getting to the island is another matter.  Mac has a sense of urgency; the are running out of time.

This is a correct assessment; the shadowy figure and his followers are preparing to leave with their prize (which the shadowy figure has secured in a small, square, high tech briefcase), when the team finally arrives!

Page Four

Shadow figure is seen somewhat more clearly, he’s wearing an elegant, old fashioned purple suit.  He backs off and lets his troopers and the sword wielder take the field.

The troopers are not much, no surprise, but they do seem to take more hits than you’d expect them to before they go down.

Page Five

The sword-wielder, on the other hand, gets in some grazing wounds on Preach, but this only pisses him off.  Preach and Peroxide fight back!

Page Six

Shadow figure doesn’t like the way this is going so he turns to run, but  bumps into Camoflauge, who tries to take the briefcase from him.  Shadow figure hangs on though, as the others continue to beat down the troopers...

Page Seven

...whilst Preach and Peroxide beat the sword-wielder!  Camouflage yanks the briefcase away, but shadowy figure kicks him in the crotch!  His uniform protects him somewhat, but not enough to stop shadowy figure from yanking the briefcase back!

Page Eight

But the tide turns again when Yuki-Onna brings a snowstorm down!  She is guilt about her power, but it shocks shadowy figure enough that Camouflage gets the briefcase back.  Sword-wielder is taken into custody, but...

Page Nine

...shadowy figure escapes. and none of them know how.

They are on the plane back home, when Mac opens the briefcase.  Inside is a mysterious, glowing purple crystal.

Page Ten

Shadowy figure is revealed as my other character, the ‘Shadow of Humanity’.  He vows to get the crystal back!

Quiet scene back at home with the team, having finished a mission successfully.  Yuki-Onna gets a little more confident, perhaps?

(If the action stretches to a couple extra pages, so much the better.  Yes, I am trying real hard to get ‘Shadow of Humanity’ into the picture, as with Burning Blades)


Jay McIntyre
United States
Just another angry fanboy geek who thinks he can write.

Current Residence: Pennsylvania
Personal Quote: If you don't take yourself seriously, who else will?

The same person who said they'd gotten...

Journal Entry: Fri Feb 21, 2014, 10:24 AM

..."Strange Comments" from me, has now blocked me.  I am utterly mystified.  This is the second time someone I was following and friends with has blocked me, with me having no idea why.

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