Jack Harkness was gone. He died out a long time ago. It was hit after hit and year after year of seeing people die and living constantly through it all. It hurt, and it ebbed away at the man until there was nothing left of him.
And so he did the only thing left. He killed him.
It had been a thousand years, maybe more. There was a point where he stopped counting. But the man that had once been Jack went on, because he had to.
He found himself on a planet. Words spread, whispers of a terrible virus that could spread and kill. He did his research, if it got out he knew what would happen. And so he had to stem the flow. The whole planet for the rest of the solar system. A worthwhile sacrifice.
"Hello!" The Doctor pushed through the doors of the hospital, his psychic paper out and flashing at anyone who would look at it. "I'm the Doctor, here to, well. Doctor!"
He walked up what was most likely the reception desk and leaned across it, staring the attendant directly in the eyes. "Could you kindly direct me to the area where there are sick people? No, wait, hospital. Sorry! Research department?"
The Doctor flashed the psychic paper again. "Need to do some research. You know how it is, with the researching. Yes?"
It had been so easy to get in and get what he wanted. He had skills once, and skills he could recall now, developed over years and turned into an art form.
Doctor Samuel Graves was the current name of choice; the name that had so easily gained him access to the research facilities at the hospital. And it was there he was constructing the device that would attack the population.
He'd cleared the facility of the current staff; told them to go home, see people that mattered, and he set to work.
"It's closed off," chirped the receptionist. "Per order of Doctor Graves."
The Doctor wrinkled his nose and leaned in a little closer. "Graves? Bit ominous, isn't it? Who closes off a research unit when the entire planet is on the brink of biological extinction?" The receptionist paled and the Doctor realized she hadn't been told.
"Oh. Dear. Well, that's an archaic way to deal with a plague of mass proportions. Now, don't go loot anything or you'll prove me wrong."
And off he went. He'd seen the location of the research department on her computer, so he didn't need her anymore. He didn't look back over his shoulder, but his face was set in a grim line. He hoped she'd live. She seemed nice enough.
Didn't they all?
The floor with the research laboratories was empty as - well. Empty. The Doctor's brow knit once again as he walked towards the main lab. The door was locked, but that wasn't anything he couldn't take care of with his sonic screwdriver.
And then he was in, and there was... JackHad the Doctor regenerated
( ... )
Comments 128
And so he did the only thing left. He killed him.
It had been a thousand years, maybe more. There was a point where he stopped counting. But the man that had once been Jack went on, because he had to.
He found himself on a planet. Words spread, whispers of a terrible virus that could spread and kill. He did his research, if it got out he knew what would happen. And so he had to stem the flow. The whole planet for the rest of the solar system. A worthwhile sacrifice.
He got to work.
Reply
He walked up what was most likely the reception desk and leaned across it, staring the attendant directly in the eyes. "Could you kindly direct me to the area where there are sick people? No, wait, hospital. Sorry! Research department?"
The Doctor flashed the psychic paper again. "Need to do some research. You know how it is, with the researching. Yes?"
Reply
Doctor Samuel Graves was the current name of choice; the name that had so easily gained him access to the research facilities at the hospital. And it was there he was constructing the device that would attack the population.
He'd cleared the facility of the current staff; told them to go home, see people that mattered, and he set to work.
Reply
The Doctor wrinkled his nose and leaned in a little closer. "Graves? Bit ominous, isn't it? Who closes off a research unit when the entire planet is on the brink of biological extinction?" The receptionist paled and the Doctor realized she hadn't been told.
"Oh. Dear. Well, that's an archaic way to deal with a plague of mass proportions. Now, don't go loot anything or you'll prove me wrong."
And off he went. He'd seen the location of the research department on her computer, so he didn't need her anymore. He didn't look back over his shoulder, but his face was set in a grim line. He hoped she'd live. She seemed nice enough.
Didn't they all?
The floor with the research laboratories was empty as - well. Empty. The Doctor's brow knit once again as he walked towards the main lab. The door was locked, but that wasn't anything he couldn't take care of with his sonic screwdriver.
And then he was in, and there was... JackHad the Doctor regenerated ( ... )
Reply
Leave a comment