Oops... open to te_gwas
Well. Isn't this simply wonderful.
The story is typical, really. Typical enough to be boring. The Doctor's been in this situation hundreds, probably thousands of times. Some force is intent on causing havoc in the galaxy, he's equally intent on stopping them, and when push comes to shove he winds up tied up in a storage cupboard. Depending on the specifics of the situation, he may also be threatened by ravenous beasts of some kind or other; or only have moments before a bomb or self-destruct mechanism goes off; or perhaps be dropped into a large body of water to drown... it all depended on how creative his captors were.
It had never been much of a problem. After all, he was still here, wasn't he?
But the Xyraxians who had caught him and bound his arms behind his back were terribly good with knots. Terribly, terribly good. They'd secured him rather well to some kind of grating and then simply left him here. So long as he was out of their way, they hardly seemed to mind what happened. And, really, was the blindfold necessary? His captors seemed to think it a good idea before shoving him down a lengthy maze of twisted corridors. At his final destination, alone, bound, and blind, he was feeling more helpless than he was accustomed to.
All around him it was quiet -- only the faint hum of machinery kept him company. It had been three hours, forty-six minutes, and twenty-two seconds since he'd been left. During this time he'd not heard a single footfall in the distance... or had any luck in loosening his bonds.
Simply wonderful.
Wait... there was a sound. Soft footsteps, perhaps near the end of the corridor.
He had no way of telling if it was friend or foe approaching, but either way -- but having someone to talk to couldn't be a completely bad thing. Either way, he'd try to convince them to free him, so it hardly mattered, to be honest. He called out, doing as much as he could to make himself sound friendly and non-threatening. (It wasn't much of a stretch in his current state.)
"Hello?"
The story is typical, really. Typical enough to be boring. The Doctor's been in this situation hundreds, probably thousands of times. Some force is intent on causing havoc in the galaxy, he's equally intent on stopping them, and when push comes to shove he winds up tied up in a storage cupboard. Depending on the specifics of the situation, he may also be threatened by ravenous beasts of some kind or other; or only have moments before a bomb or self-destruct mechanism goes off; or perhaps be dropped into a large body of water to drown... it all depended on how creative his captors were.
It had never been much of a problem. After all, he was still here, wasn't he?
But the Xyraxians who had caught him and bound his arms behind his back were terribly good with knots. Terribly, terribly good. They'd secured him rather well to some kind of grating and then simply left him here. So long as he was out of their way, they hardly seemed to mind what happened. And, really, was the blindfold necessary? His captors seemed to think it a good idea before shoving him down a lengthy maze of twisted corridors. At his final destination, alone, bound, and blind, he was feeling more helpless than he was accustomed to.
All around him it was quiet -- only the faint hum of machinery kept him company. It had been three hours, forty-six minutes, and twenty-two seconds since he'd been left. During this time he'd not heard a single footfall in the distance... or had any luck in loosening his bonds.
Simply wonderful.
Wait... there was a sound. Soft footsteps, perhaps near the end of the corridor.
He had no way of telling if it was friend or foe approaching, but either way -- but having someone to talk to couldn't be a completely bad thing. Either way, he'd try to convince them to free him, so it hardly mattered, to be honest. He called out, doing as much as he could to make himself sound friendly and non-threatening. (It wasn't much of a stretch in his current state.)
"Hello?"