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Doctor Who-Exterminate Me




Disclaimer: Doctor Who is trademarked by BBC. This is for non-profit purposes.

Note: This contains spoilers for “Hell Bent”

Somewhere, at the end of all things, it waits to speak

It cannot afford to whisper.

It’s not hard-wired to.

It must have a commanding presence. It must own the room. And all around it should obey.

In its private moments, it had often dreamed of being a Supreme in the legion, where all could obey it. It thought such a role to be a divine concept.

A concept of beauty.

Like all dreams, they fade and reality sets in. The reality of war, and the reality of consequence.

It lay there now, in the cloister corners of the Matrix, in the catacombs of its most hated adversaries, those who had denied its race the stranglehold on creation they felt they had earned through their persistence and patience. A race that had defied its own end twice, and once in a far more novel fashion than the last.

That one time, the end did come. The second instance was a cheat. A parlour trick, designed to fool naive eyes.

And those eyes were now staring back at it, give or take the seconds where their faces could show, and when their screams could be visible.

They never spoke to it, they needn’t have to, their thoughts were everywhere. Their thoughts and sounds and stories informed its hours. Informed it’s purpose. For purpose was what it needed to justify the endurance of the final days granted to all corners of creation.

Everything has purpose, even at the end.

It absorbed the information, the prophecies, the tales of the creature that was the making of the oncoming storm.

The talk of the hybrid.

Two travellers, two companions, who would break the barriers of all reality to undo the deaths of one another. Two stubborn spirits who refused to let the traditional course of events be the most natural and befitting.

Those who deemed endings inappropriate.

It knew what the prophecies meant.

It knew the prophecies were wrong.

It knew what the hybrid was. It had sussed it out.

All it needed was to give out a warning. That is, if the pain could permit it to speak, and if it could lay a gaze upon one face. Or two.

And then it’s chance arose.

There they were.

A man who, in all his lives, had never associated knowledge with wisdom, and his companion, a woman now thrice dead.

One with a pulse, another with none.

One who’s heart beat no more, and one who’s twin hearts were broken.

They stood now, in the catacombs of the Matrix, amongst the ghostly Cloister wraiths and other prisoners of the chamber, seeking a way to defy the impossible.

It knew it’s chance had come.

As the woman thrice dead approached it, it knew it’s voice needed to be heard. The pain was excruciating, the strain was unbearable, but the warning had to be given.

But would she hear it?

“Exterminate Me” it said, the veins around it tightening their grip, “Exterminate Me”

The woman thrice dead reeled back, the man with the broken hearts pushed her aside. In an instant of time, both disappeared from sight.

The Dalek rested, it complimented what had just happened.

Had the moment passed without incident? Had it been over just like that?

Did she understand the warning?

That there was another factor yet to step forward on their journey. Somewhere beyond the cloisters and the matrix and the world of the Time Lords. A third participant. An immortal who had long cut herself off from care and concern.

Someone whose influence could prove a damning one on that long way ’round.


The Daleks have a concept of beauty, and sometimes, a concept of mercy.

In this instance, at the end of all things, this Dalek chose to embrace that concept of mercy, to spare all of creation the unrest the Hybrid would cause.

The woman thrice dead, and the woman who lived.

Left unchecked, they could unsettle reality, and the ripples would be felt all the way to the end.

And all this Dalek wanted to do was rest alongside everything else.

As its consciousness drifted into a deep slumber, it prayed its mission, its mercy, would be understood.

And if the woman thrice dead was still able to run, so too, should she be able to remember.

The Dalek rested, remembering, or perhaps, hoping, that everything could work itself out, that everything had a purpose that could be eventually understood.

In time.



Face the Raven Edit

This the end of Face the Raven without the farewell speech and a slight modification to the beginning of the bit where Clara faces the raven to include the small reprisal of “Clara’s theme”, I’ve also removed the bit where The Doctor tells Ashildr to keep out of his way

A full version of the episode with these changes will also be coming out in the next few days. I will also be redoing this edit when the DVD version comes out in January

Doctor Who-Lose Lose (Fanfic)




Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all characters are trademarked by the BBC.



The amount of civilians flooding into Heathrow airport was the last thing on Elliot Peterson’s mind as air traffic control began urging him to make his way outside

A fleet’s worth of police had arrived.

Given all that was going on at Heathrow, with 228 flights cancelled and over 100,000 passengers stranded and left in a variety of unpredictable emotional states, he wasn’t surprised at such a development, and he knew he had to assure most of the huddled masses of humanity not to be start feeling terribly uneasy about developments

He made the decision to instruct the people who ran the intercoms to inform the passengers of the abundance of enforcers while he went out and dealt with the heart of the matter.

He went through the doors leading to the exits of the airport and met with the first officer approaching the structure.

“Detective Seb Culbertson”

“Eliot Peterson. Traffic control. What can I do for you?” said Peterson

“We’re here because of the miscommunication with the control glitch, you should be right on top of it considering it’s a blunder within your department” said Culbertson.

“I can read people very thoroughly, as much as security here is warranted at this time, having as many as you have out here does feel a bit excessive” said Peterson.

Seb was impressed by the observational sharpness of his accuser.

“Look, this is looking on record to be the worst on record for the airport in terms of traffic scuffles, there’s already problems at London City, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Bristol, delays ranging from 1,300 flights…”

“I’m all too aware of my own problems, you don’t want a teeming army such as this barging into the airport, and you’ll frighten the passengers. As much as we’re going to try and calm things with them, I would appreciate it if you…you know, just sort of eased your way into the building…now cut the commotion and tell me point blank who you’re looking for”

“You that confident it’s someone we’re searching for?”

“Terrorist. Jewel thief. Something exotic I’m sure” replied Peterson jokingly.

Seb was keen to inform him this was no laughing matter

“Justin Lent. Responsible for four heists in the last week or so. One of which was alien tech. hasn’t shed any bloodshed, but the rag tag outfits he employs had no concerns pulling triggers”

“Talk about your word being your Bond…this truly is exotic, next thing you’ll be telling me everything going on in there is the result of espionage” replied Peterson.

Dwight’s stony expression didn’t change

“I think I best let you in” said Peterson, immediately understanding

As the police teemed in, one small unit every ten or so minutes, Peterson directed them across the left and right corners of the airport, covering the major exit ports.

Seb raised his hands up in the air

“Let it be known for the record. I surrender” he said

“What do you mean?” Peterson asked

Seb snapped his fingers. The police around him began looking dazed, unsure of their surroundings; some were asking what they were doing here

Seb suddenly reached into his coat and pulled out an automatic. Swiftly, he set it off, immense firepower ringing through the air.

He began to run towards the escalators and up through the upper floor, the small army of officers panicked and began ordering everyone to duck and cover.

Peterson couldn’t comprehend what was going on, and before he could find a way to intercept Seb, he was pinned down by the officers as they scrambled to assert control.

Dwight ran towards one of the terminals, shoving his way through the corridor leading to the exit ports which in turn led outside to the airstrip. Some angered passengers were trying to grab hold of him just to give him a piece of their mind for being so rude as to try and breeze through them like they were revolving doors.

Seb knocked some down as he carelessly shot down the corridor and nudged more people to the side in his mad bid to part a sea of citizens, some tried tripping him up as the police intercepted him, telling the public to hit the ground as they opened fire themselves, but Seb had managed to reach the exit terminal and had shot out of the building onto the airport’s landing strips.

Outside he spotted a sleek black and silver stripped private carrier perched perfectly, a tall woman in stiletto high heels with and a long purple petticoat held up a sign reading simply “Justin Lent”

“Timing” Seb said as he and the woman boarded the plane. “Lousy. Timing”

The armed officers poured out onto the strip, only to be greeted by the sight of the plane not exactly taking off, but gradually shimmering in and out of visual recognition, an electronic hissing noise trailing off of a wheezing groaning sound.


On board the plane, now in flight within the time/space vortex, Seb ordered himself a drink provided to him by one of the plane’s air hostesses

“You weren’t supposed to collect me this blasted early” Seb said as he took one shot of the drink, tequila

The woman in the glowing petticoat manicured her nails and tucked into some freshly served caviar, “The timing was ideal. Two people vanished this day. Justin Lent and Seb Culbertson”

Seb out a small handheld device and a handkerchief containing a small figure, a miniaturized figure, a figure that was the exact double of him

The real Seb Culbertson.

“How did your last incarnation die?” asked the woman

“Took one in the back on the gang’s last heist. He cornered me in an alley, but not before I got him back” Seb said, “Then I regenerated, but, as is sometimes the case with how fate flirts with our features, how about you?”

The woman gave a playful smile, “I had an eating disorder”

“I took on Culbertson face. I was able to assume his role in the police but I was attracting a lot of suspicion by not exactly acting in-character, its sheer luck I wasn’t caught out. Then I got your video messages. You interrupted three successive training seminars I was giving some rookies with your hocus-pocus intruding on the television screens. Good thing only I could see it”

“So why did you bring a whole fleet of police?” asked the woman, taking the napkin that contained the shrunken corpse of Seb and dabbing it on her mouth to remove the caviar stains around it.

“And that takes us back to lousy timing” Seb replied, “You selected the age of the worst airport disaster in recent memory, I had no choice but to take that percentage out with me in order to cause the most amount of fuss from the percentage of the public that wouldn’t take to being ordered around, leave them with distraction after distraction, and leave the remaining percentage that did pursue me and bore witness to my escape to become maddening truthers for the rest of their miserable days. I had to blow my cover because at the end of the day the manhunt for Lent…the manhunt for me… would have proven fruitless and it’d have given everyone who suspected I wasn’t quite myself on the force the perfect ammunition to investigate me. It was lose-lose really. And I still consider going home a loss after all the effort I put into establishing a comfy nest. I do hate to fly the coup”

Seb stared out at the stormy vortex, lightning bolts dancing and dicing with one another

“What exactly did you want with this anyway?” Seb replied, holding up a pocket device, one of his more recent ‘acquisitions’, “It’s the messier and more literal kind of tissue compression eliminator, all it can do is grind every molecule into dust”

“They’re old-fashioned. I’m very much that these days” the woman replied

“Yes, I don’t think there’s that many of us on Gallifrey left that prefers taking on the form you have, far less masculine” he said, suddenly feeling compelled began to blink a bit more rapidly. For some reason, he felt something wriggle across his gaze.

Suddenly, his head shot backwards, then forwards, he heard a sharp ringing tear through his ears, he reached out for both ears with his hand and shook back and forth, his eyes widened, the pupils began to spin around rapidly, small tendrils formed where his eyelashes were and gradually the eye socket lost all trace it’s flesh -like substance and turned grey.

Seb tried to scream, but found his vocals charred and blistering, the tinge of iron fluid drowning his interiors.

His left and right pupils delicately popped out of their sockets and, blood coursed from the now empty pours, and they marched across Seb’s shoulders and onto the shoulders of the woman, who stretched out her hands to greet them

“I’m sorry Kaldorf” she said, addressing the time lord by his real identity “If not for you I would not have acquired either the Data Slice, there were no grand days out for the pair of us beyond that little adventure back home ” the woman replied, before she got up and walked over to one of the flight attendants.

“Afraid your days traveling with me are up, I need to replace your avatar in the memory space with a simulation of poor Kaldorf instead, I’m sure he’ll appreciate being a key master to my gatekeeper…I do hope he’s seen that movie and gets the reference. Never mind dear, if it’s consolation, I’ll get the silver giants I’m working with to practice your safety routine, it’s the liveliest thing they’ll ever do given what’s to follow…you do understand don’t you pet?”

The attendant nodded, the woman noticed a small tear coming down her eye, and the woman hovered around her with the pocket device.

“Ah yes, I forgot, you were a real attendant in your original life weren’t you? All that longing the serene and simpler day-glow day job, the opportunities to fly all over the world, all those hopes and pleasantries packed up inside you like a school lunch your mammy put together, you want to cling on to that purpose that I pried away from you so badly, well…I’ll give you a shot at it hen, just say something nice

The attendant looked into the woman with a shaken expression, but remained resolutely silent; she couldn’t say anything even if she wanted to.

For the woman was her mistress. And she would obey her.

Obey her to the end

The device was triggered, and the attendant crumbled to dust.