Is it ever okay to be a vigilante?
justprompts| Is it over okay to be a vigilante?
'Leven isn't Ten. Ginger now, he's lost the height and, quite frankly, gained a smidgen of weight. Small smidgen. Barely an iota. But still. And notice the facial hair; that's a premiering feature, actually, in the world of Doctors. So he's trying out a couple different lengths with it: short scruffy or really scruffy? Who can say? It might take him a while to decide.
'Leven is a brand new Doctor, one who doesn't mind being addressed by number. It seems to help some people, after all, and if they don't believe he actually is the Doctor, what does it matter?
Call him 'Leven; slower, quieter, calmer than the previous model. He doesn't mind.
It's a surprise, still, to everyone he knows, the first time he wields a gun. The Doctor they met was vocally against them, and with good reason. 'Leven doesn't like them either, but he understands the occasional necessity.
The enemy doesn't matter, nor do his specific threats. What matters is the gun in 'Leven's hand, pointed firmly, surely at the creature. It's aimed, loaded, the safety's off, and with the barest pressure of his index finger it could go off.
He knows it. The creature knows it. So do his, 'Leven's, friends. They doubt his ability to do it, but there's uncertainty there. When he speaks, it's clear, loud orders, and the uncertainty grows.
In true Doctor form, he never shoots. No one dies. Blows are exchanged between the villain and 'Leven, but only three. It strikes, he reels, pushes, and as it falls it kicks.
Someone else strikes the killing blow; 'Leven's temporarily out of commission when it happens.
His sonic screwdriver, so toted by the previous Doctor, remains in-pocket the entire time.
'Leven isn't Ten. Ginger now, he's lost the height and, quite frankly, gained a smidgen of weight. Small smidgen. Barely an iota. But still. And notice the facial hair; that's a premiering feature, actually, in the world of Doctors. So he's trying out a couple different lengths with it: short scruffy or really scruffy? Who can say? It might take him a while to decide.
'Leven is a brand new Doctor, one who doesn't mind being addressed by number. It seems to help some people, after all, and if they don't believe he actually is the Doctor, what does it matter?
Call him 'Leven; slower, quieter, calmer than the previous model. He doesn't mind.
It's a surprise, still, to everyone he knows, the first time he wields a gun. The Doctor they met was vocally against them, and with good reason. 'Leven doesn't like them either, but he understands the occasional necessity.
The enemy doesn't matter, nor do his specific threats. What matters is the gun in 'Leven's hand, pointed firmly, surely at the creature. It's aimed, loaded, the safety's off, and with the barest pressure of his index finger it could go off.
He knows it. The creature knows it. So do his, 'Leven's, friends. They doubt his ability to do it, but there's uncertainty there. When he speaks, it's clear, loud orders, and the uncertainty grows.
In true Doctor form, he never shoots. No one dies. Blows are exchanged between the villain and 'Leven, but only three. It strikes, he reels, pushes, and as it falls it kicks.
Someone else strikes the killing blow; 'Leven's temporarily out of commission when it happens.
His sonic screwdriver, so toted by the previous Doctor, remains in-pocket the entire time.