Post by Ribs, Suthers' Pal on Dec 15, 2016 15:40:24 GMT
A long time ago, off the coast of the Greek Islands…
Primrose arose with a start. He stood straight, his feet digging into his comfy trainers, as his supervisor entered his compartment.
“Sir, at attention, sir!” He saluted.
“Good work, sergeant. At ease,” his commander, Archbishop Taviani, took a seat on an ottoman at the foot of Primrose’s bed. “I’ve come to talk to you about an opportunity.”
“Oh?” Primrose found a seat at his table, after pouring water for himself and his guest. Taviani accepted the offer, and took a sip.
“Yes, it’s come from the top,” he began. “All the way up there, in the high offices of the Vatican. They want a small group to form a kind of – oh, how do you say- expeditionary team?”
Primrose was surprised, as he thought that if he were an Italian-speaking Italian religious leader tasked with overseeing a covert military regiment in the Mediterranean Sea, he’d never have pulled the term “expeditionary team.” He asked where such an expedition would take place.
“Can’t discuss that, highly confidential. You must understand.”
Primrose nodded, studying the face of his commanding officer. Sure, they had a pleasant enough relationship, but he couldn’t quite place whether or not the Archbishop was trying to pressure him into taking the new position as a positive career movement or if he was simply carrying out his diligence and offering the job to him as a formality.
“I’d need to talk it over with my family, sir – my daughter’s only three, you see, and I’d like to be able to see her,” he began to explain, but Taviani tutted him off.
“Oh, please, of course, family comes first always,” he began to head for the door. “Please, think about it, get back to me, I’m sure Teresa and Lu Ping could make do without you for a few more months.”
“The Church will make it worth your while, I’m sure.”
Doctor Who kicked open the door.
“I have you now!” He grabbed the Master by the collar from the cupboard. “And no, for the record, I haven’t been naïve, this was just an especially terrible scheme on your part.”
“Ah well. They can’t all threaten the whole of existence,” the Master responded, coming along with the Doctor to eventually return to his now-familiar dwellings in maximum security at Hong Kong Central Prison.
Doctor Who held the door open to his car, and the Master sat in the back seat as security holdings held him in place.
“Why don’t we stop off for a quick something to eat first, hm?” Doctor Who offered. He scrolled through, in his head, the local options, mentally trying to erase anywhere the Master’s connections to the villainous Yakuza may play into a larger scheme. “Ah, I’ve just the place!”
TGI Friday’s wasn’t a specifically special place; they offered decent-sized meals at a good price, and considering Doctor Who’s feelings about home cooking, that’s an important trait for any establishment seeking his business to have.
“Table for two, please.” Doctor Who asked the server, suddenly distracted by a game of cricket being televised in the bar area.
“Great, and your name?”
“Er, the Master,” The Master added after his host did not respond.
“Alright, just so you know, there’ll be a wait of fifteen to twenty minutes. Is that alright?”
“Ugh, heavens,” the Master glanced back over at Doctor Who, still not paying much attention. He closely leaned in to the hostess’ podium, and stared deep into her eyes.
“You will seat us immediately.”
Across town, Lu Ping and the Brigadier were hosting the local branch of UNIT’s holiday party. To celebrate this special occasion, all of the soldiers had brought their significant others, and the Brigadier found enough scraps of kindness in heart to offer an open bar.
The Brigadier, having stepped outside for a quick cigarette, enjoyed the hot air. It wasn’t necessarily what he thought of when he thought of weather for the Holidays, but it seemed a refreshing change of pace, especially from the nightmarish conditions from spending so many Decembers away from home in Geneva. He’d enjoyed their extended sojourn in Hong Kong, but he wondered if Doctor Who would ever put an end to it, and if they’d ever unravel the full Yakuza conspiracy.
“Brigadier!” Lu Ping emerged, loud music echoing behind her as the door opened and shut wearing her spectacular dress that Doctor Who purchased for the occasion. “I was wondering where you had got to.”
“Yes, I’m sorry Ms. Lu Ping, I just needed a moment alone,” He held out a cigarette before remembering she didn’t partake. “Everything going alright in there? No one too tipsy yet?”
“Well, Sergeant Benton got off the plane tipsy.” The Brigadier let out a light chuckle at the thought. “But no, everything seems to be going well, everyone’s really enjoying it.”
“Good,” he cleared his throat. “I’m glad.”
She approached him slowly, and placed her hand over the back of his shoulder in affirmation. He was engaged to his beloved Doris, and between Geneva and the Birnam Witch and Hong Kong he’d not really had much time to spend with what little family he had. She wanted him to know she was there for him – it wasn’t a romantic gesture, just a kind moment of genuine friendship between the two.
Pope Faustus unsheathed his sword.
“I knew you’d betray us,” he reprimanded Primrose. “You were always the weak link in our squad. That fool Taviani stuck up for you, but I knew you were weak from the moment I saw your file.”
Primrose was steadfast. He had done the right thing. PFC Lytton, his closest friend in the whole world, would be able to go home to his family, particularly his fiancée.
Somehow, he knew, deep down, he wouldn’t be able to do the same.
The Pope held his blade to his throat.
“Your holiness, this entire search for the Immobility Codex – I just don’t understand it.” He said, trying to plead for his life. “I can’t just blindly trust my faith like this.”
“You shouldn’t,” he said. Faustus looked around, making sure none of the other squad members had followed them to this point in the alps. “I am on a blind quest in search of personal glory. Because I am a weak, ineffective man who wants to live forever and then die.”
“I’m sorry?” Primrose didn’t really try to make any sense of any of this, instead thinking back to his darling daughter, who he hadn’t seen in so long. She’ll do great things, he tried to tell himself, thinking he’d never be able to see it. He had went on a quest to prove his faith, and had lost everything, including his faith, in the process.
“I am not his Holiness the Pope,” Faustus revealed, the idea cutting through the wind like an arrow. “Or rather, I shouldn’t be – my identical twin brother was elected to the position, but I inserted myself to this position, like the Antipopes of old.”
“My goodness- the Antipopes? I thought they were legends…”
“You failed me,” the Antipope instructed. “You – and your family – will pay for these crimes against the Church.”
He returned to base camp, immediately calling back to the Swiss Guard to issue a search and destroy mission.
The Master admired the strange Americana on the wall, imagining if the giant sailfish had come to life and crushed the life out of the pathetic humans enjoying Cobb Salads on the other side of the restaurant.
“What do you say?” Doctor Who asked.
“I think the two of us are more similar than you may think, deep down.”
“No, you fool, I mean about splitting an appetizer,” Doctor Who was wearing his reading glasses, carefully peering through his options. “Nachos sound good?”
“Yes, excellent.”
Their waitress approached the table. “I’m Janine, and I’ll be your server today! Can I start you off with something to drink?”
Doctor Who ordered a fancy frilly drink with a crazy straw, as the Master opted for a glass of red wine.
“And I’d like the, er, ‘Griller Combo Burger,’” the Master asked, slightly squirming. “Burger sauce on the side.”
“It’s actually put right into the burger, so we can’t do that, sorry!” Janine said as he took her menu. Again, the Master locked eyes and grabbed her tightly by the shoulder with his other hand.
“You will obey me.”
“Yes, I will get that substitution in, Master. And for you?”
Doctor Who tutted before ordering the full rack of barbecue ribs. He was naturally one who liked to be adventurous at mealtimes but he was hopeful an old standard would brighten his mood.
Lu Ping saw the distance the Brigadier felt from festivities from across the room, as he listened to Staff Sgt. Prescott explain his misguided plan to purchase a delicatessen in the French Quarter of New Orleans. She walked across the room, and pulled him aside.
“You don’t need to stay here, if you’re not comfortable,” she offered.
“No, please, I helped put on the thing, least I can do is stick around,” the Brigadier said. “Besides, somebody needs to take advantage of the open bar if Doctor Who couldn’t stick around.”
“Well, about that-”
The Brigadier looked aghast. “Oh no. What’s happened to the bar?”
“No, we’re just running low on champagne and prosecco.”
The Brigadier gladly made his way towards the coat room with terrific speed. “I’m just going to make a quick run to the liquor store down the street to grab a case or two, it’s no trouble at all.”
Lu Ping smiled. The Brigadier and her had become really terrific friends in their time together, even if he’d never admit it; she held the door for him as he walked off, whistling merrily.
As he stepped into the empty streets, the Brigadier enjoyed the eerie, stony silence of a city on the eve of Holiday. He began humming some old diddy, not really thinking about it, as he moved down the block towards the store.
The bell rang as he opened the door, alerting the owners to his prescence. He asked for the cases, and gave them his company card to expense the purchase. The Brigadier had recently had a lengthy argument with headquarters about his expense account, successfully negotiating a small raise in the daily allotted expense, albeit at the loss of a personal parking space near the rear entrance.
He spotted a pack of cigarettes tossed aside on the ground as he checked out. He kneeled down, grabbing it to place it in the rubbish bin, when he was struck by what was engraved on the outside.
It was manufactured by the Swiss Guard. The Brigadier stood, frozen.
“Lu Ping-” He broke into a sprint.
“You’re going to need to hide, Lu Ping,” explained Teresa Primrose, already infected with the Papal Virus in her dying breaths.
“No, mama Teresa,” explained the five-year-old Italian-speaking child. “I no know what to do without you!”
“Correre, child. Run!” A hacksaw suddenly came through the wall as the Swiss Guard, in their mecha-suits had finally found the two of them. Lu Ping habitually reached down for her transmat belt, and without saying goodbye teleported far off never to see her mother again.
She stood up, confused, in a petrol station somewhere in England twenty years earlier.
Armando Fratelli, her distant relation who is three-quarters robot, greeted her with a hug.
“It will be okay, a-your mama, she told me everything that is going to happen.” He began to explain the basics of working at the petrol station to the small child.
“You will be safe. For the next twenty years, you can grow up in safety here in a gas station like a normal child. The Swiss Guard are not hunting for you yet.”
“But you must always avoid the Master, he lives in the haunted castle right up beyond that hill,” pointing out the window. “Legends tell of skeletons roaming those halls- but I don’t believe in fairy tales,” he explained whilst sipping a jug of oil.
And so Lu Ping lived a life of solitude, attended by her third uncle thrice removed as she became a talented and intelligent young woman raised in a petrol station separated from her parents. She always knew that one day, twenty years from then, a switch would flip, and she would become a fugitive of the Antipope’s Robot Army, and she lived in fear of that day.
“Alright, is there anything else I can get for you?”
“No dessert, please.” Doctor Who said, prompting a brief shock from the Master. “Just the check.”
“Alrighty,” Janine placed it on the table.
“Ah, excellent, little mints! My favorite.” Doctor Who grabbed one and immediately tossed it into his mouth, chewing merrily.
They sat, staring into one another’s eyes, both of them trying to out patience the other into picking up the tab.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’ll do it.” The Doctor took out his wallet, and prepared the cash. He was expertly attuned to the local tipping customs, and left a generous contribution to their new friend Janine. “Alright, we’re good.” They put on their coats, and headed for the door.
As they stepped outside, the air had turned a bit colder. The Doctor opened the door for his friend, and he stepped inside ready to be taken back to the UNIT Holding.
“Same time next year, chum?” He quietly asked a few minutes into the drive there, thinking his nemesis drifting into sleep in the back seat. The Master, watching this from his crystal ball, had powered off his drone as he shed a single tear.
The UNIT Party had turned into a bloodbath, as the entire catering staff revealed themselves as Yakuza sleeper agents.
“Where is Ms. Lu Ping?” Chef Hou asked, firing rounds into the ceiling. “Someone will die every 30 seconds unless she steps forward.”
“I am here,” Lu Ping stepped out, hands raised. “Please, take me, don’t hurt any of my friends. I am the one who demolished the Pachinko Parlor with Doctor Who, please hold me and me alone responsible.”
“You think only the Yakuza could coordinate such a dastardly scheme? Ha!”
From under the table emerged Antipope Faustus, now ten times as powerful as he had acquired even more of the fabled soul engines.
“Just three months ago, you were five years old. Funny about that, but you can’t hide from me.” He held her up by the neck, attempting to vampirically drain her life energy.
The Brigadier kicked the door in, and immediately began firing at the religious leader. It had no effect. He was on the verge of tears as Lu Ping’s life began to flow out of her.
Suddenly, and unexpectedly, a laser beam appeared, directly impacting Faustus. Doctor Who had returned from his pressing business, and had brought with him the Prospectus Nullifier, the only known device capable of defeating the Soul Engines.
“My god! He’s done it!” Sergeant Benton exclaimed, drunk as a sailor.
“Doctor!” Lu Ping screamed.
“You need to believe!” The Doctor shouted, the combination of lasers and light shows making the room awash in color. “The Nullifier is only powered by love itself!”
Pope Faustus let go of her, weakened. He dropped to one knee, then rose back up again, turning to fight Doctor Who.
“You – this is wrong. You’re meddling – playing a part in your own past…”
“And now I’ve parted with your future,” he said, before kicking the man, causing him to break into a million pieces like broken glass.
It was deathly silent. Doctor Who, with his teeth and curls and long scarf, let out a long sigh, before embracing Lu Ping in a hug. The Prospectus Nullifier still was in effect; their greatest memories of one another played out in their heads, drowning out everything around them as they remembered their lives. Doctor Who muttered something to Lu Ping, and she thought back quite a ways.
She looked up from her position within the storefront looking over some paperwork as a sporty yellow roadster pulled up to the station.
A disheveled young blonde woman entered, following some yelling. “Could I please get a Coke?”
Lu Ping nodded, as her distant uncle began ringing Jo up at the counter. She stepped outside to see the car – it was fascinating to her, like something out of fairy tale. She saw a tall, older gentleman with a crazy bouffant and a ridiculous dark plaid coat filling his car with petrol.
She smiled as he turned towards her, but that turned to shock as he immediately turned into an action pose and struck her clean across the face.
KKLAK!!!
On the ground, she felt betrayed and hurt. She didn’t understand why this could have happened. She was confused and lost.
“Oh, my darling,” the man explained. “I am oh so very sorry.” He helped her to her feet, and looked at the light bruise on her head, tutting negatively as if simultaneously disappointed in himself and surprised at the damage he could have caused. “I thought you were yet another of the Master’s villainous goons, up to no good as always.”
Lu Ping stopped, horrified. After a moment, she let out, “you- you know the Master?”
“Why, yes, of course I do-” the man realized the implications of what this beautiful young woman was saying. “Do you mean to say you are acquainted with that dastardly menace as well?”
She pointed down the road, explaining how he lives in the haunted castle beyond the hill.
“Gadzooks!” He explained, “The same haunted castle the Brigadier was sure the Master would not occupy, as even he would be rendered paralyzed in fear of the skeletons and hobgoblins no doubt lurking inside? I’ll tell you, when I get back…”
Lu Ping didn’t really follow what was happening, and turned towards the little shop, where she saw Jo searching for exact change in her handbag.
Unexpectedly, he tapped her shoulder and gestured for her to step into the car.
“Quick! We must stop the Master before he ruins Christmas for everyone!”
Before they were off, Lu Ping reached out her hand. “My name is Lu Ping Primrose. Who are you?”
“The Doctor, madam,” he started the engine, getting ready to go on their first of many adventures to save yuletide cheer for children everywhere.
“Ah,” she responded. “Doctor Who?”
Happy Holidays
Primrose arose with a start. He stood straight, his feet digging into his comfy trainers, as his supervisor entered his compartment.
“Sir, at attention, sir!” He saluted.
“Good work, sergeant. At ease,” his commander, Archbishop Taviani, took a seat on an ottoman at the foot of Primrose’s bed. “I’ve come to talk to you about an opportunity.”
“Oh?” Primrose found a seat at his table, after pouring water for himself and his guest. Taviani accepted the offer, and took a sip.
“Yes, it’s come from the top,” he began. “All the way up there, in the high offices of the Vatican. They want a small group to form a kind of – oh, how do you say- expeditionary team?”
Primrose was surprised, as he thought that if he were an Italian-speaking Italian religious leader tasked with overseeing a covert military regiment in the Mediterranean Sea, he’d never have pulled the term “expeditionary team.” He asked where such an expedition would take place.
“Can’t discuss that, highly confidential. You must understand.”
Primrose nodded, studying the face of his commanding officer. Sure, they had a pleasant enough relationship, but he couldn’t quite place whether or not the Archbishop was trying to pressure him into taking the new position as a positive career movement or if he was simply carrying out his diligence and offering the job to him as a formality.
“I’d need to talk it over with my family, sir – my daughter’s only three, you see, and I’d like to be able to see her,” he began to explain, but Taviani tutted him off.
“Oh, please, of course, family comes first always,” he began to head for the door. “Please, think about it, get back to me, I’m sure Teresa and Lu Ping could make do without you for a few more months.”
“The Church will make it worth your while, I’m sure.”
Doctor Who kicked open the door.
“I have you now!” He grabbed the Master by the collar from the cupboard. “And no, for the record, I haven’t been naïve, this was just an especially terrible scheme on your part.”
“Ah well. They can’t all threaten the whole of existence,” the Master responded, coming along with the Doctor to eventually return to his now-familiar dwellings in maximum security at Hong Kong Central Prison.
Doctor Who held the door open to his car, and the Master sat in the back seat as security holdings held him in place.
“Why don’t we stop off for a quick something to eat first, hm?” Doctor Who offered. He scrolled through, in his head, the local options, mentally trying to erase anywhere the Master’s connections to the villainous Yakuza may play into a larger scheme. “Ah, I’ve just the place!”
TGI Friday’s wasn’t a specifically special place; they offered decent-sized meals at a good price, and considering Doctor Who’s feelings about home cooking, that’s an important trait for any establishment seeking his business to have.
“Table for two, please.” Doctor Who asked the server, suddenly distracted by a game of cricket being televised in the bar area.
“Great, and your name?”
“Er, the Master,” The Master added after his host did not respond.
“Alright, just so you know, there’ll be a wait of fifteen to twenty minutes. Is that alright?”
“Ugh, heavens,” the Master glanced back over at Doctor Who, still not paying much attention. He closely leaned in to the hostess’ podium, and stared deep into her eyes.
“You will seat us immediately.”
Across town, Lu Ping and the Brigadier were hosting the local branch of UNIT’s holiday party. To celebrate this special occasion, all of the soldiers had brought their significant others, and the Brigadier found enough scraps of kindness in heart to offer an open bar.
The Brigadier, having stepped outside for a quick cigarette, enjoyed the hot air. It wasn’t necessarily what he thought of when he thought of weather for the Holidays, but it seemed a refreshing change of pace, especially from the nightmarish conditions from spending so many Decembers away from home in Geneva. He’d enjoyed their extended sojourn in Hong Kong, but he wondered if Doctor Who would ever put an end to it, and if they’d ever unravel the full Yakuza conspiracy.
“Brigadier!” Lu Ping emerged, loud music echoing behind her as the door opened and shut wearing her spectacular dress that Doctor Who purchased for the occasion. “I was wondering where you had got to.”
“Yes, I’m sorry Ms. Lu Ping, I just needed a moment alone,” He held out a cigarette before remembering she didn’t partake. “Everything going alright in there? No one too tipsy yet?”
“Well, Sergeant Benton got off the plane tipsy.” The Brigadier let out a light chuckle at the thought. “But no, everything seems to be going well, everyone’s really enjoying it.”
“Good,” he cleared his throat. “I’m glad.”
She approached him slowly, and placed her hand over the back of his shoulder in affirmation. He was engaged to his beloved Doris, and between Geneva and the Birnam Witch and Hong Kong he’d not really had much time to spend with what little family he had. She wanted him to know she was there for him – it wasn’t a romantic gesture, just a kind moment of genuine friendship between the two.
Pope Faustus unsheathed his sword.
“I knew you’d betray us,” he reprimanded Primrose. “You were always the weak link in our squad. That fool Taviani stuck up for you, but I knew you were weak from the moment I saw your file.”
Primrose was steadfast. He had done the right thing. PFC Lytton, his closest friend in the whole world, would be able to go home to his family, particularly his fiancée.
Somehow, he knew, deep down, he wouldn’t be able to do the same.
The Pope held his blade to his throat.
“Your holiness, this entire search for the Immobility Codex – I just don’t understand it.” He said, trying to plead for his life. “I can’t just blindly trust my faith like this.”
“You shouldn’t,” he said. Faustus looked around, making sure none of the other squad members had followed them to this point in the alps. “I am on a blind quest in search of personal glory. Because I am a weak, ineffective man who wants to live forever and then die.”
“I’m sorry?” Primrose didn’t really try to make any sense of any of this, instead thinking back to his darling daughter, who he hadn’t seen in so long. She’ll do great things, he tried to tell himself, thinking he’d never be able to see it. He had went on a quest to prove his faith, and had lost everything, including his faith, in the process.
“I am not his Holiness the Pope,” Faustus revealed, the idea cutting through the wind like an arrow. “Or rather, I shouldn’t be – my identical twin brother was elected to the position, but I inserted myself to this position, like the Antipopes of old.”
“My goodness- the Antipopes? I thought they were legends…”
“You failed me,” the Antipope instructed. “You – and your family – will pay for these crimes against the Church.”
He returned to base camp, immediately calling back to the Swiss Guard to issue a search and destroy mission.
The Master admired the strange Americana on the wall, imagining if the giant sailfish had come to life and crushed the life out of the pathetic humans enjoying Cobb Salads on the other side of the restaurant.
“What do you say?” Doctor Who asked.
“I think the two of us are more similar than you may think, deep down.”
“No, you fool, I mean about splitting an appetizer,” Doctor Who was wearing his reading glasses, carefully peering through his options. “Nachos sound good?”
“Yes, excellent.”
Their waitress approached the table. “I’m Janine, and I’ll be your server today! Can I start you off with something to drink?”
Doctor Who ordered a fancy frilly drink with a crazy straw, as the Master opted for a glass of red wine.
“And I’d like the, er, ‘Griller Combo Burger,’” the Master asked, slightly squirming. “Burger sauce on the side.”
“It’s actually put right into the burger, so we can’t do that, sorry!” Janine said as he took her menu. Again, the Master locked eyes and grabbed her tightly by the shoulder with his other hand.
“You will obey me.”
“Yes, I will get that substitution in, Master. And for you?”
Doctor Who tutted before ordering the full rack of barbecue ribs. He was naturally one who liked to be adventurous at mealtimes but he was hopeful an old standard would brighten his mood.
Lu Ping saw the distance the Brigadier felt from festivities from across the room, as he listened to Staff Sgt. Prescott explain his misguided plan to purchase a delicatessen in the French Quarter of New Orleans. She walked across the room, and pulled him aside.
“You don’t need to stay here, if you’re not comfortable,” she offered.
“No, please, I helped put on the thing, least I can do is stick around,” the Brigadier said. “Besides, somebody needs to take advantage of the open bar if Doctor Who couldn’t stick around.”
“Well, about that-”
The Brigadier looked aghast. “Oh no. What’s happened to the bar?”
“No, we’re just running low on champagne and prosecco.”
The Brigadier gladly made his way towards the coat room with terrific speed. “I’m just going to make a quick run to the liquor store down the street to grab a case or two, it’s no trouble at all.”
Lu Ping smiled. The Brigadier and her had become really terrific friends in their time together, even if he’d never admit it; she held the door for him as he walked off, whistling merrily.
As he stepped into the empty streets, the Brigadier enjoyed the eerie, stony silence of a city on the eve of Holiday. He began humming some old diddy, not really thinking about it, as he moved down the block towards the store.
The bell rang as he opened the door, alerting the owners to his prescence. He asked for the cases, and gave them his company card to expense the purchase. The Brigadier had recently had a lengthy argument with headquarters about his expense account, successfully negotiating a small raise in the daily allotted expense, albeit at the loss of a personal parking space near the rear entrance.
He spotted a pack of cigarettes tossed aside on the ground as he checked out. He kneeled down, grabbing it to place it in the rubbish bin, when he was struck by what was engraved on the outside.
It was manufactured by the Swiss Guard. The Brigadier stood, frozen.
“Lu Ping-” He broke into a sprint.
“You’re going to need to hide, Lu Ping,” explained Teresa Primrose, already infected with the Papal Virus in her dying breaths.
“No, mama Teresa,” explained the five-year-old Italian-speaking child. “I no know what to do without you!”
“Correre, child. Run!” A hacksaw suddenly came through the wall as the Swiss Guard, in their mecha-suits had finally found the two of them. Lu Ping habitually reached down for her transmat belt, and without saying goodbye teleported far off never to see her mother again.
She stood up, confused, in a petrol station somewhere in England twenty years earlier.
Armando Fratelli, her distant relation who is three-quarters robot, greeted her with a hug.
“It will be okay, a-your mama, she told me everything that is going to happen.” He began to explain the basics of working at the petrol station to the small child.
“You will be safe. For the next twenty years, you can grow up in safety here in a gas station like a normal child. The Swiss Guard are not hunting for you yet.”
“But you must always avoid the Master, he lives in the haunted castle right up beyond that hill,” pointing out the window. “Legends tell of skeletons roaming those halls- but I don’t believe in fairy tales,” he explained whilst sipping a jug of oil.
And so Lu Ping lived a life of solitude, attended by her third uncle thrice removed as she became a talented and intelligent young woman raised in a petrol station separated from her parents. She always knew that one day, twenty years from then, a switch would flip, and she would become a fugitive of the Antipope’s Robot Army, and she lived in fear of that day.
“Alright, is there anything else I can get for you?”
“No dessert, please.” Doctor Who said, prompting a brief shock from the Master. “Just the check.”
“Alrighty,” Janine placed it on the table.
“Ah, excellent, little mints! My favorite.” Doctor Who grabbed one and immediately tossed it into his mouth, chewing merrily.
They sat, staring into one another’s eyes, both of them trying to out patience the other into picking up the tab.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’ll do it.” The Doctor took out his wallet, and prepared the cash. He was expertly attuned to the local tipping customs, and left a generous contribution to their new friend Janine. “Alright, we’re good.” They put on their coats, and headed for the door.
As they stepped outside, the air had turned a bit colder. The Doctor opened the door for his friend, and he stepped inside ready to be taken back to the UNIT Holding.
“Same time next year, chum?” He quietly asked a few minutes into the drive there, thinking his nemesis drifting into sleep in the back seat. The Master, watching this from his crystal ball, had powered off his drone as he shed a single tear.
The UNIT Party had turned into a bloodbath, as the entire catering staff revealed themselves as Yakuza sleeper agents.
“Where is Ms. Lu Ping?” Chef Hou asked, firing rounds into the ceiling. “Someone will die every 30 seconds unless she steps forward.”
“I am here,” Lu Ping stepped out, hands raised. “Please, take me, don’t hurt any of my friends. I am the one who demolished the Pachinko Parlor with Doctor Who, please hold me and me alone responsible.”
“You think only the Yakuza could coordinate such a dastardly scheme? Ha!”
From under the table emerged Antipope Faustus, now ten times as powerful as he had acquired even more of the fabled soul engines.
“Just three months ago, you were five years old. Funny about that, but you can’t hide from me.” He held her up by the neck, attempting to vampirically drain her life energy.
The Brigadier kicked the door in, and immediately began firing at the religious leader. It had no effect. He was on the verge of tears as Lu Ping’s life began to flow out of her.
Suddenly, and unexpectedly, a laser beam appeared, directly impacting Faustus. Doctor Who had returned from his pressing business, and had brought with him the Prospectus Nullifier, the only known device capable of defeating the Soul Engines.
“My god! He’s done it!” Sergeant Benton exclaimed, drunk as a sailor.
“Doctor!” Lu Ping screamed.
“You need to believe!” The Doctor shouted, the combination of lasers and light shows making the room awash in color. “The Nullifier is only powered by love itself!”
Pope Faustus let go of her, weakened. He dropped to one knee, then rose back up again, turning to fight Doctor Who.
“You – this is wrong. You’re meddling – playing a part in your own past…”
“And now I’ve parted with your future,” he said, before kicking the man, causing him to break into a million pieces like broken glass.
It was deathly silent. Doctor Who, with his teeth and curls and long scarf, let out a long sigh, before embracing Lu Ping in a hug. The Prospectus Nullifier still was in effect; their greatest memories of one another played out in their heads, drowning out everything around them as they remembered their lives. Doctor Who muttered something to Lu Ping, and she thought back quite a ways.
She looked up from her position within the storefront looking over some paperwork as a sporty yellow roadster pulled up to the station.
A disheveled young blonde woman entered, following some yelling. “Could I please get a Coke?”
Lu Ping nodded, as her distant uncle began ringing Jo up at the counter. She stepped outside to see the car – it was fascinating to her, like something out of fairy tale. She saw a tall, older gentleman with a crazy bouffant and a ridiculous dark plaid coat filling his car with petrol.
She smiled as he turned towards her, but that turned to shock as he immediately turned into an action pose and struck her clean across the face.
KKLAK!!!
On the ground, she felt betrayed and hurt. She didn’t understand why this could have happened. She was confused and lost.
“Oh, my darling,” the man explained. “I am oh so very sorry.” He helped her to her feet, and looked at the light bruise on her head, tutting negatively as if simultaneously disappointed in himself and surprised at the damage he could have caused. “I thought you were yet another of the Master’s villainous goons, up to no good as always.”
Lu Ping stopped, horrified. After a moment, she let out, “you- you know the Master?”
“Why, yes, of course I do-” the man realized the implications of what this beautiful young woman was saying. “Do you mean to say you are acquainted with that dastardly menace as well?”
She pointed down the road, explaining how he lives in the haunted castle beyond the hill.
“Gadzooks!” He explained, “The same haunted castle the Brigadier was sure the Master would not occupy, as even he would be rendered paralyzed in fear of the skeletons and hobgoblins no doubt lurking inside? I’ll tell you, when I get back…”
Lu Ping didn’t really follow what was happening, and turned towards the little shop, where she saw Jo searching for exact change in her handbag.
Unexpectedly, he tapped her shoulder and gestured for her to step into the car.
“Quick! We must stop the Master before he ruins Christmas for everyone!”
Before they were off, Lu Ping reached out her hand. “My name is Lu Ping Primrose. Who are you?”
“The Doctor, madam,” he started the engine, getting ready to go on their first of many adventures to save yuletide cheer for children everywhere.
“Ah,” she responded. “Doctor Who?”
Happy Holidays