Post by Cushing4eva on Dec 9, 2016 19:27:01 GMT
He had received the orders, first from the annoying woman with the mad crush on the Doctor, then from the emo soldier who wanted him to destroy himself. The compulsion to obey seemed overwhelming and he had shot up into the sky with the rest of the Cybercorpses, anticipating that he would meet a fiery end. Then, at the last moment, he saw something that drew him back to Earth.
He had noticed the body hurtling downwards, heading towards the ground. His eyes followed her falling body, projecting her likely landing spot in the graveyard next to the church and, down the lane, the village pub. Then recognition dawned and he found a force within himself. A way to overcome those orders.
Within a split second he had reversed his course. Once again he would have to tap into his inner wells of devotion and dedication. He had given his life to this. Spent every minute of each and every day doing what came naturally to him. It was his purpose. Suddenly he was a man on a mission.
Landing, he pulled away at the silvery casing that was constraining his movements. First he removed the face plate, then the chest piece pulled away. He remembered the events of that fateful day on his bicycle and supposed that he must be horribly decayed from those years he spent in the soil. Slowly he approached the window and peered in. He recoiled in horror and disgust as he looked on the hideous sight of his largely unchanged countenance. That must be a result of drinking all that formaldehyde, he reckoned. Muttering to himself in his largely unintelligible dialect, he pushed at the door and entered the building.
It was happy hour at the Dog and Duck and Pigbin Josh would find someone to buy him a pint of scrumpy.
He had noticed the body hurtling downwards, heading towards the ground. His eyes followed her falling body, projecting her likely landing spot in the graveyard next to the church and, down the lane, the village pub. Then recognition dawned and he found a force within himself. A way to overcome those orders.
Within a split second he had reversed his course. Once again he would have to tap into his inner wells of devotion and dedication. He had given his life to this. Spent every minute of each and every day doing what came naturally to him. It was his purpose. Suddenly he was a man on a mission.
Landing, he pulled away at the silvery casing that was constraining his movements. First he removed the face plate, then the chest piece pulled away. He remembered the events of that fateful day on his bicycle and supposed that he must be horribly decayed from those years he spent in the soil. Slowly he approached the window and peered in. He recoiled in horror and disgust as he looked on the hideous sight of his largely unchanged countenance. That must be a result of drinking all that formaldehyde, he reckoned. Muttering to himself in his largely unintelligible dialect, he pushed at the door and entered the building.
It was happy hour at the Dog and Duck and Pigbin Josh would find someone to buy him a pint of scrumpy.