Doctor Whooves- Through The Cracks

by LemonDrizzle

Through The Looking Lens: Part 1

Through The Looking Lens: Part 1

The guards didn't know what had hit them, one moment they had been standing protectively beside the small, inconspicuous wooden door that, through a series of maze-like corridors and diabolically dead ends, led directly to the throne room of the royal sisters and the next minute they felt their life blood dripping through their partially shattered skulls, seeing the sanguine liquid drain and hearing the steady sounds of hoof-steps disappear into the night. Or, at least what they thought to be hoof-steps. Behind them the door creaked and groaned, buckling and writhing as the dastardly night air caught it time and time again, sending it rocking back and forth like a serenade aimed at the poor guards who lay in front of it, their eyesight dimming as the door shrieked and wailed them to the gates of Eternity. With one last shaky breath, both guards sank into the floor, the last thought flaming brightly in their minds being that they had failed in their duties before they simply ceased to be, their bodies now cooling.

The plasmavore continued onwards into the night, shaking the small droplets of blood from its hands as it went, stomach growling and snarling at it to turn back and drain them first, to absorb their essence and their lives but its mind refused, deciding that the danger was too great, that the risk was too high. And so, with a dizzied mind, a battered body, blood-stained hands, a screaming stomach and a sick, murderous desire to destroy The Doctor, the plasmavore entered the gardens of the Canterlot Castle, vanishing into the shrubbery like a spectre, the leaves barely rustling as it strolled through them, its head constantly flicking backwards, expecting to see the brown stallion standing behind it, expecting to see the anger and the power held in those eyes, expecting to feel blistering pain and righteous wrath.

Yet the wrath never came and so the plasmavore continued on its journey, nervous, afraid and worried but with a sense of growing confidence as the night heralded no destroyer of worlds, no great warrior or oncoming storm. No Doctor. With a creeping motion that would have put shadows to shame, the plasmavore sneaked and danced through the foliage and patterned, pretty plants until it stumbled upon a lone, white wall that spiralled higher and higher upwards, past the tops of the tallest trees. The edge of the garden, discovered and safeguarded by an unclimbed, unscaled wall that had sat at the edge of the castle for aeons and which would stand for aeons more. With a growl of anger, the plasmavore turned away from the wall and started to walk right, fear and anxiety returning as it desperately sought a means to escape the gardens before they came coming for it, torturing it, hurting it. No, no, no, no, that was its job, the torturing and the hurting and, eventually, the killing. Oh yes, it would enjoy the killing.

Somewhere in the distance a bird chirped lightly, clearly disturbed by the small but noticeable noises that the plasmavore was making more and more frequently as it continued to search ruthlessly for an exit, no longer caring if a twig broke underneath it or if an animal darted away and scurried into the bushes in fright. With a snarl, the plasmavore lifted its head and hissed, hissed at the bird and the bird fell silent, fluttering away on shaking wings as the plasmavore continued forward, striding through dense greenery and intricate hedges before it emerged in a clearing, a wide open grassy plain with a single, notched and beaten wooden door directly in the centre where the wall sliced straight through the grass, its doorknob crusted with filth and disuses but still it acted as a lifeline for the plasmavore who sickeningly smiled with glee at the sight, bounding towards the door before The Doctor arrived, before The Doctor caught him.

It reached the door; still no sign of The Doctor.

With a light tug, the plasmavore attempted to open the door, being greeted by only a loud rattle and a lodged doorway, the sight infuriating and similarly petrifying the plasmavore as the sound exploded around the clearing, its cold eyes darting around, meeting no hunting party, not even a living soul. With an exhale of breath, the plasmavore pulled harder, feeling the door give way slightly with a groan before it yanked even harder, feeling the door give and become yanked outwards, nearly sending the plasmavore tumbling as it swung open. The plasmavore gazed into the darkness of the doorway for a second before it plunged inside, pulling the door closed with a silent click, attempting to muffle its sounds of escape though it may have been too late for such a task.

The plasmavore turned around, eyes adjusting to the darkness as its vision fell open the twisted, rotting ladder that clung to the wall, twisting higher and higher before it punctured the face top of the cliff, clear night sky showing at its peak. The plasmavore frowned as it shambled over to the ladder, gripping it and shaking lightly, feeling the who0le thing creak and moan in pain but still it remained sturdy, the sight pushing a smile to the plasmavore's lips once more, a gesture that it had been doing far too much lately. It would have to stop that, smiling should be reserved for murder and crimes and blood, not creaky ladders in a freezing cold tower. And so, its face set in a scowl, the plasmavore swung onto the ladder and began to scale the old, decrepit, unused guard tower that had sat so alone and so lost among the grass and the greenery for so long.

The plasmavore reached the top after what felt like minutes of climbing, the occasional stop inhibiting its climb as the ladder felt close to buckling beneath it or as a dim shout could be heard in the background, nearly always emerging from the city but nearly always making the plasmavore jump and freeze. It emerged from the guard tower like an ant sprouting from a hill, yanking its white, slimy body upwards and out of the gap before it looked around, gazing upon the city from its vantage point. Faint lights flickered in the occasional house and a small cluster if bright lights continued to paint the city, obviously from taverns and bars but that was not important because the plasmavore knew, it just knew, as the wind tugged at it, as the night sky chilled it, as the sounds of laughter and snoring drifted to its ears, it just knew that it was free.

It just knew that in this city it could feed.

It just knew that in this city it could lure The Doctor like a moth to a flame.

It just knew it could kill him when he came strolling in like the hero.

The plasmavore laughed doggedly as it imagined the looks on the faces of The Doctor's friends when he emerged from the dark city, unharmed and unscathed wearing the body of The Doctor, how relieved they would be and then, its personal favourite part, how horrified and terrified they would be when they realized the truth. Oh yes, when The Doctor came for it in this big, old, stinking, filthy city it would be waiting for him. But it was not there yet, it had not entered this treacherous town yet and so, with a swift glance backwards, the plasmavore gazed at the ground in the distance, felt the wind break across its face and it jumped.

And it fell, faster and faster, quicker and quicker, the ground grew closer and closer before its legs slammed hard into the earthy ground, until its innermost mechanisms bolted and squeezed together like a coiled spring, absorbing the impact nicely just as it hit the ground, tumbling and cursing lightly as the pain still managed to snake its way up its legs, as its legs failed to stop every ounce of impact force, causing the plasmavore's right leg to buckle under the strain, nearly tearing what feeble muscle it had before the plasmavore rolled to a stop on the grassy ground, feeling the dew soak into it almost comfortingly before it climbed to its feet, noting the screaming pain in its leg but refusing to acknowledge it as it limped towards the large city, nose already working furiously, mouth salivating as it searched for something to eat, for something to quench this uncontrollable hunger.

The plasmavore limped into the city, submerging itself in the shadowed refines of the houses, noting the delicious sounds and smells emanating- no -exploding out of the tavern to its right, stomach straining at it to simply go in there and butcher, kill, drain every living thing, its mind telling it to find an easier target. With a near roar of fury, the plasmavore turned from the feast that lay behind closed doors and stumbled further into the city, feeling the dark tendrils of the night wrap around and hide his form from the view of any looking creature.

It walked and walked and walked for minutes, constantly stopping at inns and taverns, constantly debating with itself whether or not it was worth it, weighing perverse pleasure against silence and stealth, the mentally empowered side of its mind always winning the little arguments, always making it go on with a snarl of anger, eyes narrowing and tongue lolling out to lick around its lips. Soon enough it emerged into a vast clearing, houses laying around it in a vast, grey circle, the pavement turning to cobblestones, a quadruple set of trees dotted around the clearing bringing some much needed natural effect to the city. In the centre of the clearing sat a large and exaggerated fountain, spewing water from what appeared to be the mouths of three ponies that looked to be dancing, jiving and jumping over each other, the thin streams of liquid blasting and then drooping into the water below to create a soft splashing sound that echoed invitingly around the clearing. It was here that the plasmavore picked up on the sound.

Crying. The faint sobs of fear and worry and anxiety filled the air around the plasmavore, making its heart pump faster, making its mouth dribble with hunger, making its darkened soul soar higher and higher. With careful steps, the plasmavore moved around the clearing until, through a faint parting of shimmering moonlight, something caught its view. There was something hunched over the edge of the fountain, head on hooves, shoulders shaking as it wept and wept and wept openly, little body convulsing in sobs. It looked depressed, lost, saddened, broken.

It looked delicious.

With silent steps, the plasmavore approached, taking note of its new victim and how it looked, how it seemed, its strengths, its weaknesses. The body was small, smaller than that of the average pony it had met before and so, with lightning fast deduction, the plasmavore came to the conclusion that it was an infant, a foal or filly. Judging by the high notes of its cries, it seemed to be a filly. Its coat was a vivid orange that was smudged and smeared with dirt, odd tweaks of hair jutting up from random intervals, its little tattoo mark coated in a sheen of filth yet still it seemed to closely resemble a mountain. The small filly had a pair of fluttering, quivering wings that jostled and tossed in the night air, thin feathers falling occasionally from them. A mane and tail of midnight black sprouted from its head and rump, hiding its face from view but not hiding its tears that slid and dripped to the floor beneath it, creating a small puddle outside the fountain. At first the plasmavore wanted to snort in disgust at the idea of taking a weak, wimpy child but soon enough the benefits sprouted into its mind, causing the plasmavore to sink into a small crouch and began to lumber like a hunter towards its prey, the sounds of crying growing considerably louder.

Its talons clicked on the cobblestone just once, just as it made to dart out of the treeline and silence the filly. The small ponies head instantly swivelled, ears perking up as its lavender, but blood-shot, eyes came into focused, fixed on the crouching mass of the plasmavore, mistaking it for a pony. Its voice was high, warbled and scared as it spoke up.

“Have you seen my mummy?”

With a single step, the plasmavore entered the clearing, its arrival making the filly shrink away in fear as it spoke up in a deathly quiet tone.

“No,” it said as it drew close, eyes glittering maliciously, “I haven't seen your mummy and I don't think mummy will be seeing you, ever, again.”

And then, within one minute, the plasmavore had quenched its hunger and strode out to set about a plan, to set about a sabotage that would leave The Doctor in beaten tatters before it.

[.]

Earlier

The Doctor could see the plasmavore out of the corner of his eye as it inched out of the room step by silent step and yet he knew that he could do nothing about it for if he did the others would bar his way, they would merely toss aside his observation as yet another lie created to stop the truth from emerging. The looks alone that he was receiving, anger, sadness and, most brutal of them all, betrayal were enough to cause his two hearts to wail out in pain and the effect that having himself doubted and questioned every step of the way whilst he hunted down a killer, having everypony turn against him whilst he tried to lead them to safety, it would be too much of a strain on his hearts. And so, with a deep feeling that he would come to regret his actions, The Doctor allowed the plasmavore to slink away.

With a shaky breath, The Doctor spoke up, mentally preparing himself for what was bound to unfold before him.

“It's...it's me.”

Silence, silence that sank bone deep and tore the wind from its perch. Silence that infiltrated the halls of Canterlot Castle like a dark phantom. Silence that drifted on and on and on seemingly endlessly, the atmosphere that had once existed in the regal throne room now tainted and tarnished by the lack of noise, by the silence. The Doctor could feel all eyes on him, could hear every intake of sharp breath, could feel the sweat on his head, could hear the beats of his hearts but mostly he could feel those eyes, those cold, unforgiving eyes tearing into him mercilessly.

“What...what do you mean?”

Surprisingly enough, it was Fluttershy who spoke up first, her voice laden with doubt, barely concealed fear but also twinges of barely restrained anger, as if she could not believe this colt from the stars had had the gall to lie to her. Gathering himself, The Doctor stood taller, his noticeable slouch that he had developed when he had told them disappearing as he faced the truth head on as if it were a marauding Dalek.

“I didn't arrive with the box, with The Pandorica. No, The Pandorica took me here whilst I rested in its centre, bound to the machinery, trying to...trying to steer myself away from danger. The thing in the box I told you about, it's...it's me.”

The colour drained from the face of the butter yellow pegasus as fear consumed her, as her anger and fury were washed away by a tidal wave of horror, her backlegs scrabbling furiously as she tore away from The Doctor to hide behind the small group that now joined closer together, as if to ward off The Doctor. Next to speak was Twilight, her voice containing no anger, hatred or terror, instead burdened down with confusion that made her stutter somewhat.

“But...but you can't be! Y-you're helping us, you can't be that monster!”

The Doctor smiled shakily and sickly, his grin now perverse with memories that threatened to spill forth as he spoke up again in a restrained voice.

“The plasmavore didn't lie Twilight and neither am I. I'm the last one of my race left because...because I doomed all of the others.”

The Doctor swallowed down the word killed, refusing to acknowledge the nagging voice in the back of his head that told him that that was exactly what he had done to his people, to his beloved race that had turned so violent, that had been corrupted by war so easily. Twilight visibly reeled from the information, backing away into the protective shield of the group, the front at which stood Princess Celestia, not knowing what exactly was going on but keying herself into just enough to know that this “Doctor” fellow was bad, bad to the bone.

The Doctor kept up his shaky smile for a moment longer before it fell as Pinkie stepped from the crowd, her once pristinely pink, bouncy mane now limp and hanging, her once vivid coat now dull grey, her once mirth filled eyes now sad and watering as she dredged up the question which The Doctor had been fearing to answer for as long as the war had ended.

“Why?”

The Doctor stepped forward, intending to comfort the obviously devastated mare that stood in front of him before he was stopped in his tracks by the mass of ponies that surged forward, surrounding Pinkie, blocking her from view and making The Doctor falter in his tracks as six pairs of darkened, angry and petrified eyes turned to him, glares slicing into his mind. The Doctor swallowed loudly, eyes flickering into each pair of betrayed orbs before he took a step backwards, a collective sigh of relief
leaving all of the mares before he attempted to speak up in a beaten voice.

“I...there-there was a wa-”

“How can we trust ya any more anyway? Ya'll could just lie to us now and get us whilst our guards are down!”

Applejack's voice shattered The Doctor's unusually timid voice, silencing him with her hissed words before he attempted to speak again, to heal the damage he had done.

“No, you...you don't understand!”

“Oh, we understand just perfectly, you...you ruffian! You lied to us, you're not a gentlecolt, you're a...a monster!”

Rarity this time, her barbs striking deep beneath The Doctor's skin.

“Please, I just-”

Rainbow Dash stepped in swiftly.

“You lied you lying...you lying, stinking alien! I bet you're just hear to take our brains and return to your mothership!”

“No, I just-”

Twilight, looking mortified, spoke up.

“Oh my Celestia, you're a monster. Oh sweet Celestia, I trusted you! I should have trusted my books, the alien always ends up being the bad guy!”

“I don't...I just-”

A thud that resounded around the throne room practically exploded from the front of the group of ponies, making all ears twist backwards as Celestia raised her hoof from where she had slammed it into the floor, the marble partially cracked under the impact as she spoke up in a deathly quiet voice, judging the pony before her on what those around her where saying, refusing to allow him any means for which to defend himself, to prove what they were saying false.

“I have heard enough here. Now, Doctor I believe, you have been accused by these ponies before me of a...a genocide that is completely unprecedented in my reign. Is this true?”

“It...it is, but-”

“Then, with all of the might of the Equestrian law and by the power given to myself by the Elements of Harmony and the Solar Expansion, I, Princess Celestia, declare you a criminal and a prisoner until further notice. I shall have to hear all of the facts but from what I have heard tonight, Doctor, it appears that you shall face a punishment fit for the atrocities you have committed.”

The Doctor recoiled at the thunderous voice that billowed forth from Celestia's mouth, in fact, all of the ponies present recoiled from the winged, horned deity that seemed to have shifted into a piercing yell before The Doctor lowered his head closer to the floor, mumbling out a sentence that the ponies before him just managed to catch.

“There is no punishment great enough...”

The Doctor felt a single tear streak down his cheek as he cast his gaze up at the hate filled eyes that stared him down, hearts screaming as each of them turned their metaphorical backs on him. Never before had he been silenced quite like this, never before had his story been hindered and fragmented until only half the truth came out, until he lived through guilt, unable to answer the question of why he had done what he had done, unable to bolster his resolve and wash away his guilt with logic and reason. No, this right here, standing in front of what very well may have been a tribunal of judging faces, feeling the blistering anger, fear and betrayal, this was exactly what he deserved for what he had done, this was exactly what he had brought upon himself.

A short sound of a scuffle broke out behind The Doctor as he turned away from his former friends, still practically feeling their burning gazes drill into the back of his head. Things hadn't gone to plan, he had been trampled over by a horde of conclusion jumping ponies and now, now a murderous monster was loose upon the city all because he had thought that he could explain why he did what he did, all because he had thought that they would understand, all because he thought that, like the humans, they would be too enraptured by his tale to voice their opinions until later. He had been wrong, dead wrong, and now Equestria would most likely suffer for it.

The sounds of the scuffle rose in volume before there was a light yelp of surprise, the sound of thundering hooves on marble racing towards him and then, with a little strangled cry, something leaped through the air and landed on The Doctor's back just as he turned half-heartedly to see what all the commotion was about, his shock easily showing as he went down in a flurry of hooves, a loose cry of surprise bursting from his lips as he slammed into the cold marble.

Something wet and cold started to pool around the base of the back of his neck as The Doctor laid splayed on the marble, disoriented and groggy, the slight feeling of dampness partially rousing him from his stupor as the sounds of cautious approach sounded, the gentle clip-clopping of hooves on marble situating that the gang of ponies that had once trusted him were drawing closer. With a muffled moan of pain, The Doctor rotated his head until he stared over his shoulder, immediately picking up on the flat, dead, dull pink mane that swing over his shoulder, touching his front hooves, along with the dull pink body that had wrapped around his own brown one like a snake around its victim. Soft, faint sounds of sobbing emerged from his neck area, small moans of depression reverberating up to his head as the squeeze around him tightened, choking the life from him as Pinkie burrowed further into his fur, her blue eyes sealed shut, her face hidden by both her falling hair and his somewhat soggy coat. The Doctor looked back in confusion at the small group of rag-tag ponies who were drawing nearer, his own confusion reflected in their faces as the faintest smell of bubblegum drifted through his nose, strangely emanating from the mane of the distraught looking pony that had coiled around him.

And then, dimly yet growing louder and louder and louder, The Doctor began to make out what exactly it was that Pinkie was tearfully groaning into the back of his neck, the words making even the vindictive band of mares approaching him stop in their tracks.

“I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry...”

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again, closed it, opened it for a third time...

Closed it.

The Doctor used to be able to count on one hand how many times he had been entirely flabbergasted beyond belief, his new lack of hands making the occasions somewhat difficult to remember, but this right here, the sobbing of a pink pony inside a castle made by ponies, on a plane ruled by ponies most certainly took the cake. Still, he was The Doctor, sworn fighter of evil and abuser of the wisdom of wit so what good would it have done for him if he had remained silent for more then five seconds? And so, five seconds after the first words became distinguishable, The Doctor spoke up in an exceptionally timid voice.

“Why...why are you sorry?”

Pinkie just increased her grip on him, as if believing that if she gave The Doctor even the smallest amount of wriggling room then she would loose him, her voice muffled and riddled with sobs as she spoke into his neck.

“Ai burleafed hat chu wu-”

“I'm sorry, pardon?”

“Ai burleafed hat chu wur a burg mien-mienie-”

“I, ah, I still can't quite understand.”

“Ai burleafed-”

“Pinkie, use your words.”

The quivering mare that had settled against his fur drew in a deep shuddery breath before her hooves partially excavated themselves from The Doctor's fur and her head rose from its perch on his neck, raw, red eyes gazing at his with sorrow that seemed perhaps a tad exaggerated. Rivulets of fallen tears marked her face, some moisture still wavering on the edges of her blue orbs as she drew in an even deeper breath and began to speak lightning fast, tinges of sobs just visible on the edge of her voice.

“I believed that you were a big mean-meanie pants and then I got sad and I asked you why you did it and then I remembered that my Pinkie-sense didn't go off around you and it didn't tell me you were a mean-meanie pants so you couldn't have been a mean-meanie pants but then all of my friends were being mean-meanie pants and not letting you speak and I started it and I'm a big mean-meanie pants and then you were all sad and you looked so old and I felt sad and Celestia looked like a meanie-mean pants and then you looked even more sad and it was all my fault and I can't believe I did it and then my friends-”

Pinkie's head suddenly swivelled around at the speed of a bullet to stare angrily at her friends, small flickers of fire blazing in her eyes as her voice rose in both pitch and volume, the sound making The Doctor wish that Pinkie had allowed him enough space to move his hooves to his sensitive ears.

“You lot! I thought he was the big mean-meanie pants but noooooo, you totally ignored him, you totally jumped to conclusion and you totally didn't want to throw him a big welcome party when he arrived!”

Celestia spoke up, her voice hesitant and filled with barely concealed doubt.

“But Miss Pie-”

“Quiet Missus! You were just as bad as the rest of them with all of your “Throw him in jail” and “Pay for atrocities” speech. He hasn't even done anything bad to you, he hasn't even shown a tiny, wickle, smickle amount of badness...essity and still you accuse him of being evil and mean and smelly.”

The Doctor frowned slightly, his obvious quarrel with the idea that he smelled bad overriding his desire to simply listen to what the young mare was frantically saying.

“I don't think anypony called me smell-”

“Quiet, I'm trying to help you dopey! Aaaaaaaanyway, not one of you bothered to let him speak up, not one of you bothered to hear his story, not one of you bothered to help me bake him a cake...a cake which I totally forgot! Oh Celestia, it's still sitting in the Cake's kitchen, I so wanted to give it to him when we'd captured that big meanie, you silly filly Pinkie-Winkie. Oh, where was I?”

“Y'all were verbally lashin' us, hun.”

Five eyes filled with anger flickered to Applejack who took a step back, a small chuckle escaping her throat as her features blushed red.

“Aww yeah, not one of you was fair to him and you know what I think? I think we should apologize to him because we were the mean-meanie pants. Who agrees?”

Silence followed by a strange growling voice which rose from Pinkie.

“Who agrees?”

Mumbled words of agreement split the air, Celestia herself averting her gaze from the choleric Pinkie before the little pink mare spoke up again, her head turning around to face The Doctor's, her eyes now free of the tears she had once held, her coat returning to its normal sheen and her hair becoming somewhat frizzy around the edges, as if waiting to return to its usual lustre.

“Good, then I'll start. I'm very sorry Mr Doctor for making you all sad.”

A swift glare from Pinkie directed at the other mares caused each one of them to speak up in unison.

“Ah'm...ah'm mighty sorry sugarcube. We ain't even heard ya out an' we jumped to e poor conclusion.”

“Perhaps I was a teensy bit overboard with the monster remark, I suppose you haven't been anything but a proper gentlecolt when we were around. Well, except when you stuck me in that spider infested corner.”

“Oh, umm, I'm really sorry Mr Doctor and I understand if...if you're angry at me.”

“Yeah, sorry alien dude, I sorta blew my casket there, aha. I suppose I'll have to at least hear the story before I whoop your flank.”

“I'm sorry Doctor, my inner scientist is mentally berating me at not hearing all of the evidence before making a hypothetical conclusion.”

“It would appear that I may have misjudged you, Doctor, if the Element of Laughter is so willing to stick up to you. Consider the prison sentence revoked and please accept my humblest apologies.”

The Doctor blinked in bafflement as each of the mares who had been pining for his freedom mere moments earlier now stood before him looking shamed and disgraced, their features flickering with guilt and their eyes no longer filled with hate but now with a stony reluctance, as if they were expecting the worst to unfold. Still entirely confused, The Doctor spoke up in a voice layered with oddities and bewilderment.

“Uh, apologies accepted?”

Immediately, a sound similar to that of a small explosion erupted from Pinkie, her hair re-inflating, her coat sparkling back to life and her eyes practically bursting with joy as she allowed her hooves to return to their owners body, finally freeing The Doctor who wasted no time in standing back up and shaking himself off as the pink mare bounced and skipped back to the relieved looked group, a small on her face as she swivelled in mid air, stuck a hoof in her hair, pulled out a bowl of popcorn and landed on her rear in front of the group, all eyes locked on her as her bouncy, peppy voice rose up again, this time filled with joy.

“Oh goodie. So, can we hear your story now Mr Doctor?”

And then, as if she had been planning this affair all along, Pinkie winked conspicuously at The Doctor, drawing a startled expression from him which made Pinkie burst into giggles. Although, he had to hand it to the spunky young party pony, she had managed to completely turn around a situation that seemed incredibly dire, the idea of facing down an army of Cybermen was currently more appealing to The Doctor than reliving what happened mere moments ago. Desperate to move on and to find the plasmavore, The Doctor spoke up in his normal voice, the mood that would usually accompany his tale of the destruction of his people, sadness and melancholy, was askew because of his relieved feelings towards the others allowing him a chance to show them why he did what he did, creating a cacophony of mixed messages.

“Ah, yes, of course. You see my people were old, older then old in fact. We were known as Gallifreyans before we adopted the title of Timelord, a tad exaggerative in my opinion...

...We lived happily for a time, we became great inventors, we meddled in the affairs of time and we constructed machines that would allow both space and time travel. Our race was a prosperous one, a wonderful one. Our planet was beautiful, deep red grass, capped with snow. We were harmonious and the universe was harmonious around us...

...And then, everything changed.”

All of the mares, six eyes full of wonder, were enraptured by The Doctor's tale so much that they didn't notice the small pitch change in his voice as his tone sunk into something that could be called regret. The group was so enraptured in fact, that Pinkie had even dropped her popcorn on the ground in order to lean closer and hear the stallions words, all thoughts of his betrayal and evil intentions clearly vanished.

“There was another race alongside us, born of hate and anger and malice, a race of creatures so foul that they would taint the air itself with evil, that they would scourge whole worlds just because they could. Their names were The Daleks, with their master Davros leading their armies...

...And so, with the universe in peril from full scale war, from destruction that would leave nothing in its wake, we did what we had to do. We went to war with The Daleks over the fate of the universe, we battled the demons that plague nightmares, we fought evil with good, darkness with light...

...And...and we lost.”

Eyes widened and breath was inhaled sharply as The Doctor spoke those fateful words, his once happy mood now deadened as the memories forced themselves into his mind and heart, like a twisting knife.

“We lost, they lost, everyone lost. My race, the Timelord's of old were no more, they had been changed by the war, they had been corrupted into something that would have made the old Gallifreyans weep with pity. They were no better than The Daleks and I know, I just know, that given time, if we had won then we would have gone on to 'protect' the whole universe...

...And so I stopped it, I stopped it all. I threw my race and The Daleks into oblivion, I burnt Gallifrey using The Moment. I made sure Rassilon's plans couldn't be put into fruition.”

The Doctor was practically talking to himself now but his audience remained captured by the cold, dead voice that told the tale.

“I killed my own people because I had to, because if I hadn't then the Time War would rage on, then millions of planets would have burnt. I sacrificed my planet for the universes survival. I sealed that time away using a time-lock so that it could never be tampered with...

...I did what I had to and I would do it again. They were monsters, those Daleks, but they were born monsters. I couldn't stand by and watch my people morph into creatures like The Daleks, I couldn't stand by and let Davros have his ultimate victory. I ended the Time War by sacrificing what was most precious to me, I ended the Time War by burning my home and its people. That is my story, that is why I am named the destroyer of worlds and the killer of my own kind, because I had to...I-I just had to.”

The Doctor exhaled raggedly, feeling the bitter sting of tears in his eyes before he was once more sent sprawling as six furry bodies impacted with his own, drawing a strangled squeak from The Doctor's throat as he was sent tumbling backwards. Six pairs of limbs tightened around him like serpents, thoroughly crushing his lungs and causing The Doctor's face to redden and his eyes to bulge, faint trickling tears spilling onto his coat as each of the six mares that had leapt on him began to wail aloud their opinions.

“Darlin', ah...ah didn't know. Ah'm...ah'm so sorry!”

“Oh, that is the worst. Possible. THING!”

“That's so sad. Oh you poor dear, we were so mean to you! Gosh Fluttershy, you're such a meanie pants.”

“That's super duper luper sad Mr Doctor!”

“Ah Celestia, ya...ya had to go and make me cry didn't ya, stupid alien.”

“Oh Doctor, I'm...I'm so, so, so, so, so sorry!”

The Doctor continued to flail his hooves around in the air as the life was slowly crushed out of him, his face increasingly red, his eyes worryingly bulbous as his life began to flash past his eyes, his only current thought being that smothered to death by ponies would not be a good explanation of his death before a burst of yellow, ethereal magic literally tore the mares off of The Doctor, allowing him to force oxygen into his lungs as each of the girls were deposited calmly and softly onto the marble floor of the throne room, each of them looking thoroughly embarrassed as The Doctor continued to cough and splutter on the floor.

The heavy, but tranquil sounds of hoof steps echoed towards him as he continued to rock on his back on the floor, air wheezing in and out of his body in great bursts before a gentle tingling sensation rolled through him, supplying him enough air to cease his needless, greedy choking down of the air. The Doctor glanced down at his body, just noting the fading, shimmering golden aura before a clear, regal but apologetic voice reached his ears, no longer filled with the hatred and the retribution that it had once held.

“I...I made a mistake today Doctor, a mistake that not only would have cost an innocent pony-”

“Alien!”

“Thank you Pinkie, an innocent alien his freedom, but a mistake that also made him relive a past that sounded almost too painful for even myself to experience. For that I am truly, truly sorry Doctor.”

The Doctor rose to his hooves, shrugging his shoulders as he cracked and popped his neck which had taken a severe beating in its previous fall, his eyes closed in concentration as he attempted to clear a particular aggravating ache, his voice rising up nearly subconsciously.

“Oh, no real matter, you were only looking out for your ponies after all, I can't fault you for that. Now I...believe...we...”

The Doctor opened his eyes and gazed at Princess Celestia for the first true time, instead of just glimpsing her out of the corner of his blue orbs or seeing her smouldering with noting but anger. The Doctor's gaze flicked across her body, sensing, deep down, that something about her was not right, that something about her was worthy of his absolute attention, that something about her was not just different, but wrong, so very, very wrong. And then it came to him, in a split seconds, as The Doctor's eyes widened in realization, and then fear, as he took a step back from the Goddess of the Sun.

Celestia too had seen something when she had looked at The Doctor, had felt an aching in the back of her mind as if she should remember him, as if she had seen him before, as if he had played such an important, desperately important role in her life and yet she had forgotten him, she had forgotten somepony who lay muffled and concealed within her age old memories. Celestia was by no means a foolish pony, nor was she a pony who could ignore the signs and, as soon as The Doctor stepped back, as soon as she saw the fear and the horror in his eyes, she took a step back as well, fear foolishly clogging her as if the very idea that this being before her, this Doctor could experience fear so potent, then whatever it was it must be horrendous. Her voice nearly cracked as she spoke up, only years worth of political power allowing her to stabilize her voice.

“What is it, Doctor?”

He muttered something then, something that she just picked up on and then, quickly, something she wished she hadn't picked up on.

“Shouldn't exist.”

This time she could not help the stutter in her voice.

“D-Doctor?”

The Doctor gazed at her for a moment longer with nearly glazed eyes, his mind frantically working inside his head before he shook himself, the dazed sight leaving his face as he opened his mouth to speak, staring right at Celestia, and then closed it, opened and closed, three times in a row before he coughed quite suddenly, the sound easily drawing everyponies attention as he spoke up in what could have been regarded as a whisper were it not for the rather loud ending.

“Celestia, at some point in the future, you and I are going to have to have a talk. A big, long talk, one of the ones where I make you really confused and you look at me like I'm crazy. Yep, that's the look right there...

...Anyway, that talk will have to come later because right now we have a fairly large problem on our hands because, if nopony had noticed, it appears our rather rude, rather vicious little alien has managed to make a rather grand, rather daring escape!”

All heads instantly swivelled to face the direction in which the plasmavore had last been seen, loud gasps escaping everyponies throats, even Celestia's, as the disappearance of the plasmavore became apparent, as the oddity that had happened mere moments ago was forgotten as Twilight shifted her head back around to face The Doctor, her eyes wide, scared and confused as her voice rose up, tone full of worry.

“Doctor, what are we going to do!? That...that thing is out there right now, maybe killing ponies!”

The Doctor cleared his throat as all eyes turned back to him, five filled with barely restrained worry, one filled with images of a perfect party for the new alien and one alight with a fire that seemed to smoulder around her like the coma of a comet, her royal stance displaying only anger at the merest idea of murder.

“Well Twilight, what we are going to do, or rather, what I am going to do is think up an insanely ingenious plan to make sure that the plasmavore is captured. All I really need is a spark, a little twinkle of an idea, a small, tinted light in the darkness to give me the inspirat-”

Something twinkled majestically just out of the corner of The Doctor's eye, something that made him tilt his head around and gaze through the window at the object that had caught his attention, his speech scattered as he gazed higher and higher, sight resting on top of one of the tallest towers and the object that sat atop it, a light and then enormous smile painting across his face as The Doctor spoke up again in a weirdly jubilant voice, as if the answer to all of their problems had been answered.

“Twilight, remember how I said I needed a spark?”

The purple mare nodded and The Doctor continued.

“Well, consider that spark well and truly found and it's not just a spark, it's a great big bonfire, one of the types that's really tall and smelly. Except this plan doesn't smell like smoke and fire because that would probably be bad. I'm going to need a few things however.”

Celestia stepped forward, her tone full of righteous wrath and determination.

“I'll make sure that you get what you need.”

The Doctor cracked a smile as he whirled around on his hind-legs, deploying a surprisingly acrobatic three-sixty, coming to a stop before the mares as he spoke up in a giddy voice.

“Ok, I'm going to need sand, a map, a team of engineers, a compass, a protractor, a clear view of the night sky...

...and a fez.”

[.]

It was quiet. Quiet and dark and ever so cold as The Doctor trudged alone through the shadowed streets of the Canterlot suburbs, his eyes constantly roaming around the darkened city for any signs of life, be it alien or otherwise. The sounds of laughter ans talk reached his ears, hailing from many pubs and taverns that littered the city, small glows of light bursting into the sky from distinct directions, the flickering lanterns and lamps inside of houses casting their illumination outwards to the night sky. Millions upon millions of stars twinkled and danced magnificently overhead, each constellation bearing a surprisingly similar construction to the ones that the humans had used to decipher and map out their own night. The moon, spherical, barren and cratered, lay nestled in the sky like a shining orb, its beams of lunar light piercing the darkness occasionally to clear the way for The Doctor, as if someone else was looking out for him on this night. He could have happily stared at that luminous, numinous moon all night but alas he had places to go, a strict time schedule to stick to.

He had a monster to beat.

And so, averting his gaze from the stars but constantly looking up at them, The Doctor continued on his steady, cautious trot, eyes roaming the gloom of the night for the missing alien. He had, of course, been offered a weapon to protect himself for when he went outside, a nasty looking silver sword with a curved, pirate-like handle, but he had declined the offer, instead opting to go with what he had on him, which was a red bow-tie, scruffy hair and a mind full of mischief. Oh, and a fez. An actual, honest to Celestia fez. He had gotten his beloved fez and now it sat upon his head like a parrot on the shoulder of a pirate, its red coat blazing in the night, its golden, fabric cord swinging down to smack The Doctor in his right eye every once in a while, making him question whether or not fezzes were as cool as he had set them out to be.

The Doctor continued to trot around the city for minutes on end, the night air chilling into his coat and the whistling wind ruffling up his hair even more than its usual appearance. He passed numerous taverns, each with intricate and astounding names, such as 'The Scarlet Mare', 'Hay And Oats' and The Doctor's personal favourite, 'Celestia's Flank' which, for some unknown reason, had the most amount of laughter emerging from it, so much mirth that it seemed to fog and cloud the clearing that The Doctor had discovered the pub in but now he was alone, the taverns behind him as he clambered into the housing area of Canterlot, as he began to hunt closer to what many ponies would call their homes.

The Doctor wasn't quite sure what had made him stop as he was travelling down that dark, twisted, menacing looking alley, he didn’t quite know what divine power had grasped him and made him gaze wordlessly down the interlocking alley that stretched from his own alley but look he did and, as his eyes picked up on a speck of something, he began to trot further into the alley, eyes scanning the darkness intensely. Soon enough, he reached the object that had snatched his attention and, when he reached it, The Doctor blanched and recoiled somewhat in both revulsion and anger, burning, smouldering anger. He took one step back, then another and another and another until he had exited the alley, eyes still locked on the speck that he had glimpsed in the first place, his blue orbs practically alight with fury as he shuddered once, just once, a tremendous ripple echoing through his body as he whirled around on the spot, hair swinging wildly, fez nearly toppling from his head as he prepared himself for the attack from the plasmavore.

Nothing.

No sight, smell or sound of anything disturbed the gloom, nothing but the whistling wind and fragmented laughter reached The Doctor's ears as he turned his head around, eyes wide and searching, searching deeper and deeper into the night, yet finding nothing.

The Doctor allowed the tension to go out of his muscles, allowed the fury to seep away like mud in the rain, allowed his preparation for a fight whittle away until all that was left was an ugly, empty, heartbroken feeling as he once more cast his eyes back down the alley he had recently visited, mind and hearts aching with pain as he locked eyes with what he had thought to be a mere speck moments ago. As he remembered how twisted and broken it had been, as he remembered how frail and lifeless it had looked, as he remembered the look of horror set forever across its face, that simple reminiscent memory alone making The Doctor tremble with anger, a small growl rising up in his throat as his head swung around and he began to loudly, incredibly loudly, stomp down the alleyway. His head remained bowed partially, eyes flickering across every speck of darkness, soul burnt with hatred and anger so strong that it thickened the air around him, traces of desolate sadness mingling into its depths to lace the sky like poison as The Doctor continued to trot further and further down the alley.

The Doctor exited the alley into what appeared to be an incredibly wide street with a single, yellow flickering tavern at the far end of its long stretch, his head turning again and again before he trod carefully onto what was obviously the road, feeling the thick cobblestones beneath his hooves as he partially stumbled across the road, mumbling curses as his equine legs began to wobble and twist across the slick and ever so frustrating cobble. The Doctor raised his head as he reached the edge of the road, noting the large, theatre-esque building that stood before him, its depths shadowed by the night but still distinguishable, great, black pillars rising from in front of him, a series of long winding steps which led upwards situated right in front of him. The Doctor paused a moment to admire the sight, his anger diminishing somewhat as he marvelled at the architectural genius behind the sentient, sapient ponies before he shook his head and trotted through the dark alley directly to the right of the theatre.

Before long, the alley that The Doctor had chosen to follow ended, opening up into a wide clearing which made The Doctor pause in his stride in surprise. Large, cobblestoned pavements littered the area with a few sparse houses laying scattered around the wide clearing in a circular shape, all black windows and tightly sealed doors. Four large, brown barked, seaweed green leaved trees stood like guards around the noble looking clearing, acting as if they were protecting the ponies of this estate. Through the foliage of the trees, a large fountain which gushed water from what appeared to be the mouths of a triplet of ponies stood, the faint trickle and gush of the water sounding almost soothingly in The Doctor's ears, sparkling, moonlit water rising through the air like a bird. That was not why The Doctor was so surprised, however.

A small filly rested her head against the stone edge of the fountain, her shoulders rolling back and forth with loud, wailing sobs that broke the tranquillity of the night, yet seemed to not wake any of the residents of Canterlot. The fillies orange coat was pristine and immaculate, her vivid colour blasting through the darkness like the light atop a lighthouse, her pitch black mane blending in perfectly with the night. She was small, smaller then small in fact. She was tiny, absolutely tiny, having been barely over seven years old. On her flank rested a carefully crafted cutie-mark of a mountain with a sheen of smoke rolling around its top, small wings fluttering just higher up her body, disjointedly and brokenly as if the little pegasus had lost all control of them.

The Doctor trotted forward quietly, his hooves clicking partly on the floor, making the filly raise her head up to stare at him with crystal clear lavender eyes, no traces of tears visible, before her head moved back down to the stone edge of the fountain, her cries and weeps increasing in both volume and pitch as The Doctor drew nearer, stopping on the opposite side of the fountain to stare at the filly through the reflection of the water, the fragmented, shattered orange pegasus's reflection drawn across the face of the water.

“If you wanted to try and catch me out, you should have found a better hiding place for your disguise,” The Doctor said in a cold, dead voice, images of the broken body of the filly that he had stumbled across in that dark alley a while ago making its way to the forefront of his mind, his anger making him push his hooves into the ground hard until they shook with force, “because that's all she was to you right, a disguise? Nopony important, nopony that anypony would miss.”

The little filly raised her head at The Doctor's coldly furious words, lavender eyes twinkling first with fake confusion and then with both malice and anger as the puppet body of the plasmavore pushed itself to its hooves, a magnificently monstrous smile painting across its face as it barked out words in that high pitched, childish voice that broke The Doctor's hearts.

“That's all she was to me, yes, a disguise to throw away when I could find a better one and here you are! My perfect disguise, my most sought after object of revenge,” the plasmavore growled out in that high voice, its lavender eyes blazing with anger and joy, “And here you are, strolling right into my claws like a fly to the spider.”

The Doctor continued to stare at the small, orange, pegasus body through the water, his eyes drilling right through the plasmavore, who took a single, small, seemingly insignificant step back at the anger behind the eyes.

“You've killed and killed and killed again, all to get to me. You planned to murder the single, most important creature in this whole world but that's not worst. No, you said that this little filly, who you murdered and drained, you said that she was nopony important...

...Let me tell you something, plasmavore. Everypony, every creature, everywhere is important. She had a family, she had friends and peo-ponies who loved her. She had a life, a real one, with happiness and joy and anger and fear, and you took that from her...

...The stallion was one thing, planning to murder the Princess was another, heh, planning to kill me was not surprising but this, what you've done here, this is the single, most potent, most powerful reason towards why, on this night, I am going to make sure that you never harm another creature ever again...

...But every creature, no matter how monstrous or cruel, deserves another chance and this is yours. Repent, come with me, give yourself up freely. You'll go to jail, you'll be punished for your crimes and, let me tell you this, it will be so much better than what will happen to you if you don't take my chance...

...One more chance to give yourself up freely. Do the smart thing, take it. Be the brightest of all of my opponents, be the one who finally outwits me, do the one thing that would honestly surprise me. Give yourself up freely.”

The plasmavore blinked its false eyes, doubt lining its face before it morphed back into its usual, hateful, spiteful appearance as the plasmavore spat out a retort in its adorable voice.

“Never Doctor, never! What will you do to me now!?”

The Doctor blinked slowly, his face set in a stony appearance before a small look of confusion and partial sheepishness drifted through his complexion and then his voice.

“Ah, actually I thought you'd give yourself up to be honest so I'm not entirely sure what to do now...”

The plasmavore took a step around the fountain, The Doctor mirroring the gesture in the other direction.

“Maybe we could rock, paper, scissor towards whether or not you go to jail? Ah, wait, hooves...”

Another pair of steps.

“Hmm, oh, I could hit you really hard in the face and knock you out...or you might just get back up and kill me...”

Step.

“I don't suppose you're allergic to water are you? That'd really make my day...night...”

Closer.

“Uh, I could wake everypony up and then, together, with the power of friendship we could imprison you! Nah, too childish...”

The clop of a step and then the high pitched, warbling voice of the filly.

“I'm going to kill you Doctor.”

“Well, I'm glad we cleared that part up.”

“Slowly.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“Painfully.”

“I'm not sure I like this idea.”

“I'll make the streets run red with whatever blood is left inside you.”

“Oh, it'll be just like a carnival, except so much worse.”

The plasmavore growled low in its throat, looking at The Doctor through the clear water of the fountain, seeing the fragmented image staring back at it, their places now switched so that The Doctor now stood where the plasmavore once stood and vice-versa. The Doctor glanced around at his surroundings, his gaze lingering unconsciously on what appeared to be a simple, boring alleyway before his head turned back to stare at the plasmavore, a grin born of refined anger and cold fury forcing its way onto his old face as his voice spoke up across the short distance, the plasmavores taken ears twitching at the sounds.

“Bet you can't catch me!”

And with a flick of his tail and a little, bark of laughter, The Doctor whirled around and raced into the alleyway he had been staring at, the plasmavore scrambling after him.

The Doctor raced through darkened alleys, silently counting how many corners he turned, how many steps he had taken, how many houses he had passed. Subconsciously, his eyes grazed the sites around him, from the quiet houses to the rowdy pubs, his ears twitching at both the sounds of laughter and also in a desperate search to determine where the chasing plasmavore was exactly. That little situation was swiftly answered as the orange filly came blasting around a corner directly in front of The Doctor, its head turned away from him to stare down the space where he should be heading, its small body panting rapidly as it failed to notice The Doctor's bowling ball-esque approach from the other direction. Its ears twitched however, its head turning just in time to see The Doctor leap over its small body, just in time to see the cocky, confident grin that The Doctor had flashed at it before the colt hit the ground on the other side of the plasmavore and continued to sprint, tingles of laughter lacing the air where he had once been. The plasmavore growled to itself before it gave chase once more.

Right. Left. Right. Right. Straight forward. Left. The Doctor mentally quarantined off all other areas that blurred past him, concentrating only on his destination as the sounds of hot pursuit reached his ears, small clops sounding off of the pavement like a battalion of soldiers marching to war. The Doctor drew in a deep breath of air as he pulled another sharp left, the sound of a small crash and a muffled curse behind him making him grin wildly, adrenaline flooding his old system with renewed vigour and strength as he pulled a tight right. He was nearly there, just one more right turn, followed by a left and then...

The Doctor turned right and almost immediately turned left, the nearly hidden passageway leading him down a dark alley before he emerged into a puddle of moonlight that illuminated the space before him. A wide open space, surrounded by housing with only the statue of a singular pony flapping its granite wings providing any real cover, the floor bathed in white light, the houses silent. The area before him was massive, larger than large, almost as wide as a mansion and completely open to the sky. Perfect.

It was only then that The Doctor realized that the sounds of pursuit had ended and by that time it was too late.

Pain rocketed through The Doctor's body as he was flung off of his hooves by a blur of orange fur that smashed into his side from the right, bruising his ribs and knocking all traces of air from his body. The Doctor hit the pavement with a small crunch, his head slapping the cobbles agonizingly as the plasmavore twisted before it hit the ground, its hooves now striking the stone instead of its back as it rose gracefully to its hooves. Groggily, The Doctor raised his head from the floor to inspect the small orange filly that was standing perhaps four metres away from him before his groggy gaze turned to one of fascination and horror as the plasmavore let out a screech of triumph and began to shed its host body like the skin of a snake.

First, all of the colour drained from the small filly as if she was ill, her orange coat shedding its colour into a crystal white complexion, her mane and even eyes following the trend of colour conversion. The fillies legs began to twitch and shiver, elongate and stretch, as the plasmavore began to reset to its original body, her eyes shrinking and her mouth growing larger and larger, darker and darker. The sounds of popping bones and crunching cartilage filled the air as the neck of the filly expanded and expanded, as her body grew and stretched, as the fur melted into its pure white skin, as the hooves sunk and small claws began to bubble and protrude from its depths. With a wordless cry, the plasmavore reared up onto its hind-legs and, with a formidable show of strength, grabbed what remained of the fillies body and simply tore it off, no longer caring about its disguise as it tossed the few scraps of hair and skin to the side, its body reverting its chemistry and sinking back into the parasite form of its body.

The Doctor wanted to run, to flee and escape from the monster before him but he couldn't, his head hurt too much, his limbs refused to budge and there was something else that kept him from leaving. Ah, the plan. Of course, he couldn't go and abandon that now, even if things had taken a rather disturbing turn for the worst and so, with a shaky intake of breath, The Doctor spoke up.

“That really, really, really hurt.”

The plasmavore's soulless eyes turned to The Doctor, filled with malice and hunger as it cackled evilly before it began to stride towards The Doctor, its mouth turned up in a horrible grin. Soon enough it reached the fallen form of The Doctor, leaning over his aching body, a vile stench of death wafting from its mouth as it spoke up in a deathly quiet voice.

“I have you Doctor, finally, finally, I win!”

The Doctor gulped loudly as he looked upwards into those murderous eyes before he shrugged half-heartedly.

“I never really liked this game anyway.”

The plasmavore pulled a claw back, raising its jagged edges above its head as it spoke up in an angry but somewhat joyous voice, the taint of the fillies voice now leaving its speech.

“Time to die Doctor.”

The Doctor sighed from his position on the floor.

“Ah well, at least I'll get to see the sunrise one more time.”

The plasmavore narrowed its eyes, preparing to swing its claw down and gut The Doctor from neck to tail before realization hit in and it whirled around just in time to see the orange sun break the surface of the horizon, flooding the streets of Canterlot with painful yellow light that burnt and smouldered into the plasmavore's skin, making it turn away from the sun with a scream of pain, its claw stopping its descent to swing upwards and protect its face from the sun. A powerful knock to its sternum sent the plasmavore tumbling away from The Doctor who now wobbled to his hooves, his eyes wincing as he moved his rear right leg, the one he had used to send the plasmavore spiralling away from him.

The plasmavore hissed in pain as it hit the ground, the sun torching into its back before it rolled back to its feet, ignoring the pain and the tendrils of radiation that stabbed into its body, its voice rising upwards, obviously laced with agony, to reach The Doctor's ears as it took a shaky step towards the injured colt, gasping in pain as the suns rays stabbed into itself again.

“The sun is not set to rise for another h-hour. What did you do!?”

The Doctor snickered as the plasmavore began to walk quiveringly towards him.

“You really should read up on a little history you know. You see, that delicious meal that you tried to eat earlier, the big tall, white one, well, she raised the sun and I just asked her a little favour.”

The plasmavore snarled as it stepped closer to The Doctor, its voice rising up to answer him with defiance and sick intention.

“No matter, I can kill you just as easily now as before. You have solved nothing.”

The plasmavore stepped forward again, its desire for revenge overpowering its horrid pain, its claws slicing through the air as it drew nearer and nearer to the completely still Doctor who merely looked at the plasmavore with such deep sadness, such resolute depression that it nearly made the plasmavore stop in its tracks.

“I gave you a chance, you should have taken it.”

The plasmavore sneered as it stepped closer...

...and then, as quickly as a flash of lightning, its entire world erupted into unimaginable, unbearable, unquenchable agony.

A/N: Can be found in the following chapter.

Comments

[The Portal Passer]

...I did what I had to and I would do it again. They were monsters, those Daleks, but they were born monsters. I couldn't stand by and watch my people morph into creatures like The Daleks, I couldn't stand by and let Davros have his ultimate victory. I ended the Time War by sacrificing what was most precious to me, I ended the Time War by burning my home and its people. That is my story, that is why I am named the destroyer of worlds and the killer of my own kind, because I had to...I-I just had to.”

"What I did... I had no choice... in the name of peace, and sanity" - War Doctor