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Comments 13
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Well done, Doctor. [He cocks the gun, aiming it casually between the Doctor's eyes] This is the part where I explain that I'm a Word Lord named Nobody No-One, that by saying "Nobody can kill me", you've given me the power to do so. Bad luck, chum, thanks for playing. [He pulls the trigger, shooting the Doctor through the head]
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[But that makes the next bit much easier, doesn't it? Ianto slips his stun gun from his pocket, toying thoughtfully with the switch. Stun or kill? Definitely kill. He presses the stun gun to Nobody's forehead, pausing to relish the moment.] Nobody's dying today. [He could've come up with something more clever, had he the time, but he'd rather get to the good part. He pulls the trigger and destroys Nobody - or his current body, anyway.]
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[He did, actually, and she's on the hunt for him - and the high heels he stole from her. For, uh, ransom, not because he wanted them for any particular reason. Which is why he's staying under the radar.]
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Preferred method of contact: Through the journal, though since it's me (Charles) the mods already have my AIM laying about somewhere: gallifreycharles
Writing sample:
"Of course," he said, tapping the Tissue Compression Eliminator in his hand, "I am not by nature a violent man. I simply believe in doing what is necessary. You may well wonder why I am bothering to tell you this at all, true."
He chuckled slightly, lifting a gloved hand to smooth his mustache.
"The Doctor just loves to talk, and talk - he does go on, is the point - as you are well aware." Another, slight chuckle. "There are times when it is good to do so, especially to tell our dear Doctor just how naive he has been. And how naive you have been. You sought to challenge me, and that has brought you here ( ... )
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Preferred method of contact: AIM: fairylandking
Writing sample::
Dear Diary,
I'll have to be brief, I'm rather in the middle of something at the moment. I've regenerated three times in as many minutes, and the prospects for the current situation are looking rather drab at the moment. Though I can't say I feel sorry I sped through my last few lives, I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the Master's breast, and, well, let's just say I've had better faces and more hair. Luckily I managed to get the luck of the draw this time around.
Oh, blast, I think I'm dying again. This is it, I'm afraid. Sorry to be so brief about this, diary, but it seems this time my death is sure to be a fatal one.
As my last entry, I hope that my dear, sweet Emma remember me as I am now; not as that fat lump of lard I was three minutes ago. Know in your heart, my dear, that I will----
The rest of the entry is smudged with a streak of ink. It is unknown when or ( ... )
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