Prayers to Broken Stone ((The Meddler VI/Allison Castiel))

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

“That's a Code Red,” Jem said harshly. “It means there are Raiders attacking the settlement. You're in charge now, Doctor. What do you intend to do about it?”

"Rob," Danny said, catching the other man by the arm, his tone low and urgent. "If you have somewhere you need to be, now would be a good time to get away, under cover of the fighting. We can raid Jem's office for all the supplies we need, take the ATV. Leave her here to defend the settlement. It's what she does best - killing people."

Rob ignored them both, squatting to examine the tank. "GK..?" he mumbled to himself, slowly rotating the tank. "What is... hmmm... cyclohexyl methylphoshonofluoridate, ethyl ({2-[bis(propan-2-yl)amino]ethyl}sulfanyl)(methyl)phosphinate, and N-{1-[(6-Chloro-3-pyridyl)methyl]-4,5-dihydroimidazol-2-yl}nitramide? Wow." He looked up at the others. "This is, I suppose, an insecticide. Of sorts. But it's a hell-broth of nerve toxins and neonictinoids - enough in this canister, I think, to kill everyone in your little colony a dozen times over. And you people were just spraying this around?"

"And the raid, Doctor?" Jem jeered. "What are you going to do about that?"

"Dunno," was Rob's casual answer as he hefted the canister. "But I've got me own armored vehicle, an' enough poison gas to wipe out a city block here, so I can probably think o' sommat. Alley, love, do us a favor and grab some food and water. Not all of it, mind. Enough for three people fer two weeks, I think. An' I'll have me a look about, an' see what... 'allo, what 'ave we 'ere?"

Still carrying the cylinder of posion casually over one shoulder, he jogged across the room and examined an old public address system. "Danny, pack this up to th' ATV. An' that other, smaller speaker over there. An' that microwave over there..."

"What?" Danny asked, bemused. "Why?"

"Cos I ain't partial t' gassin' a bunch o' people, an' I've got th' makin' o' an idea, I 'ave." He grinned. "Ever heard o' an' Active Denial System?"

[Allison Castiel]

Rob ignored them both, squatting to examine the tank. "GK..?" he mumbled to himself, slowly rotating the tank. "What is... hmmm... cyclohexyl methylphoshonofluoridate, ethyl ({2-[bis(propan-2-yl)amino]ethyl}sulfanyl)(methyl)phosphinate, and N-{1-[(6-Chloro-3-pyridyl)methyl]-4,5-dihydroimidazol-2-yl}nitramide? Wow." He looked up at the others. "This is, I suppose, an insecticide. Of sorts. But it's a hell-broth of nerve toxins and neonictinoids - enough in this canister, I think, to kill everyone in your little colony a dozen times over. And you people were just spraying this around?"

"Better than the alternative,” Danny grunted. “Invasion of the giant wasp-monsters, remember? The human race had kind of run out of choices.”

"And the raid, Doctor?" Jem jeered. "What are you going to do about that?"

"Dunno," was Rob's casual answer as he hefted the canister. "But I've got me own armored vehicle, an' enough poison gas to wipe out a city block here, so I can probably think o' sommat.”

“You!” Danny gestured with the rifle at Richter. “Grab Laughin' Boy there.” He nodded towards Langley's prone form. “We're goin' upstairs. You too, Jem. Move it. And don't try anything stupid, because I will kill you.”

As they all hustled back up to Jem's quarters, Allie considered how much Rob had already changed things. Here was Danny, one of the most cautious and risk-averse people she'd ever met, suddenly willing to take on the entire establishment; to challenge Jem's leadership, which he'd never dared to question before. Not, she supposed, that they had given him much choice in the matter.

“Alley, love, do us a favor and grab some food and water,” Rob instructed, as they spilled out into the room above. “Not all of it, mind. Enough for three people fer two weeks, I think.”

“Usually, I'd be telling you that you should stay behind, to keep you safe,” Danny murmured into Allie's ear. “But firstly, I don't think you'd agree to that anyway. And secondly... I think perhaps you'll be safer with him than anywhere else.”

She shot him a surprised glance. “You've changed your tune!”

“I may be a sceptical bastard,” he growled, wry amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “But I'm not stupid.”

Meanwhile, Rob was paying them no attention at all. He was busy poking around amongst all Jem's stuff, oblivious to the murderous looks she was sending his way.

“An' I'll have me a look about, an' see what... 'allo, what 'ave we 'ere?"

Hurriedly, Allie began ransacking cupboards, pulling out foodstuffs and water containers, trying not to wince at the continuing wail of the siren. Knowing what she now did, she probably shouldn't have been surprised when she discovered how much better and more plentiful Jem's supplies were in comparison to the subsistence fare she and the rest of the settlement were used to. Nonetheless, the sense of betrayal still made her feel sick inside, as she stacked things neatly into boxes, ready to load into the ATV.

Still carrying the cylinder of poison casually over one shoulder, [Rob] jogged across the room and examined an old public address system. "Danny, pack this up to th' ATV. An' that other, smaller speaker over there. An' that microwave over there..."

"What?" Danny asked, bemused. "Why?"

"Cos I ain't partial t' gassin' a bunch o' people, an' I've got th' makin' o' an idea, I 'ave." He grinned. "Ever heard o' an' Active Denial System?"

Turning to look at them over her shoulder, Allie's brow creased in confusion. “I haven't. What exactly is it? And Rob... what about the Undying Man? Is he... I mean... how can he possibly come back from... from what just happened?”

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

"Cos I ain't partial t' gassin' a bunch o' people, an' I've got th' makin' o' an idea, I 'ave." He grinned. "Ever heard o' an' Active Denial System?"

Turning to look at them over her shoulder, Allie's brow creased in confusion. “I haven't. What exactly is it? And Rob... what about the Undying Man? Is he... I mean... how can he possibly come back from... from what just happened?”

"In reverse order," Rob declared, grabbing an assortment of tools from another shelf, "I dunno. He's Jack th' Undyin', right? He'll either come back to life, or he'll die." A shrug. "Either way, he's better off than when he was gettin' eaten up by wasp larvae, don't you think?"

That spurred a thought. he grabbed a few military ration packs and tossed them over next to the corpse of the 'Undying Man', then kicked a jug of water over as well. "He might want some o' that, if he wakes up. But we ain't got time t' wait an' see. Not if you wanna help yer people." With a gentle but firm hand, he began pushing Alley towards the door. "Shift it, love. Let the dead bury the dead."

---

A few minutes later...

The guts of the microwave, and the speaker, and the public address system were spread out over the back of the ATV. Rob sat tailor-fashion in the midst, ignoring the bumping and jostling of the poorly-maintained suspension as he pieced them back together in a fashion not intended by the manufacturers. "An Active Denial System," he was explaining, "is also known as a 'heat gun'. It's an anti-personnel microwave oven it is, only you shoot it at people."

Grimacing, he grabbed a pair of needlenose pliers and began stripping insulation from another wire. "It don't kill. Not at the power we'll be able to generate, mind. But it'll burn like seven hells, and hurt like th' proverbial wicked." Sparks snapped and popped as he attached something to the internal electrics, and he squawked a little and sucked his fingers. "Unless I kill me fool self, that is. Where's a MAT when you need one?"

He began applying copious amounts of duct tape, forcing the public address system to look something like a blunderbuss designed for the love child of Mad Max and Flash Gordon. "For that matter, what th' church's a MAT? An' are we there yet?"

The front fell off his jury-rigged weapon. He caught it awkwardly and began to tape it back in place. "Because I don't reckon we'll get too many shots as it is. Best to hurry up."

[Allison Castiel]

“You won't get away with this!” Richter bellowed at the top of his voice, hammering on the closed trapdoor with his fist. “Wherever you run, we'll find you, you filth! We'll hunt you down like dogs!”

The only response from above was a grinding, scraping sound and then booted footsteps hurrying away. Cursing, Richter descended the stairs to stand beside Jem, who was still staring through the plexiglass barrier at Jack's corpse, her blue eyes cold and distant. Her fingers had reached in beneath the neckline of her T-shirt, idly playing with something that was strung around her neck on a chain. Over in the corner, where Danny had dumped him, Langley stirred feebly, trying to sit up, conscious now but very befuddled.

“They've dragged the desk over on top of the trapdoor,” Richter fumed. “We're sealed in. What do we do now, boss?”

Jem's eyes slid sideways to regard him. “This,” she replied calmly. In a movement that was impossibly quick – and in fact, very reminiscent of Rob's earlier speed – she snatched the chain from around her neck and whirled on Richter, driving something needle sharp deeply into his jugular. The man had time for only one surprised gurgle, before he fell to his knees, bright red arterial blood gushing from the mortal wound.

Horrified, Langley saw that Jem was holding what looked like a large silver arrowhead in her hand, now stained with Richter's blood. He'd seen it before, she always wore it around her neck. “Jem,” he croaked, appalled. “What are you doing?”

“My name isn't Jem,” she said, as cold as ice. “Jem Sholto never existed.”

Deliberately, she licked a drop of blood from the arrowhead, savouring the taste, as languorous as a cat tasting a saucer of cream. Already, right in front of him, she was changing. Blue eyes morphing into a wicked, taunting hazel; shaven head misting into long, luxuriant red locks; combat uniform transforming into a revealing gown of pure scarlet silk.

“For the short time you have left,” she continued, her voice no longer clipped and British, but lilting in a honeyed French accent. “You may call me Madame.”

Langley cringed back from her, bewildered and terrified. “Where's Jem? What did you do with her?”

Contempt radiated from her. “Fool. My appearance was nothing but a perception filter, generated by quantum mnemonics. Brilliant, if I do say so myself, effective enough to fool another Time Lord, thanks to the copious pain furnished by dear Jack in there.”

“I... I don't understand.”

“I don't suppose you do. You humans are so woefully limited. I expect you think this Apocalypse happened by accident? Just one of those random things, right? Wrong! The Doctor isn't the only one capable of bending the timelines. A little tweak here, a little change there... and lo and behold, all the agony and anguish I could ever need, to make me strong again and to heal my TARDIS.”

Slowly and deliberately, she began to walk towards him.

“No,” he gasped, scrabbling backwards. “Stay away from me! Stay away!”

She laughed, the sound warm, as if he was a pet monkey performing amusing tricks for her entertainment. “You have been a faithful and obedient tool for me, Langley. But now I have one last service I require you to perform. I require more blood, to perform the ritual I need to create a portal, to escape this prison. And then... I have a score to settle with the Doctor.”

“No... no...” Langley cried, as she bent over him. “Please, I beg you...”

But Madame Clacice Beauvier was not one to listen to pleading and pity was something that was completely unknown to her.  Moments later, all that could be heard in the cell were Langley's screams of ultimate suffering.

---

"An Active Denial System," [Rob] was explaining, "is also known as a 'heat gun'. It's an anti-personnel microwave oven it is, only you shoot it at people."

Grimacing, he grabbed a pair of needlenose pliers and began stripping insulation from another wire. "It don't kill. Not at the power we'll be able to generate, mind. But it'll burn like seven hells, and hurt like th' proverbial wicked."

Danny was behind the wheel, careening the ATV out of the underground parking garage and back into the streets. Outside, night had fallen, but the darkness was lit by the incandescent light of a huge white moon, glaring down on them like the eye of God, casting peculiar shadows every which way across the ruined landscape.

Seated securely strapped into the passenger seat, Allie looked over her shoulder at what Rob was doing. “You're going to take on a gang of Raiders? Just the three of us?” Her voice was an incredulous squeak. “That's your plan?”

Sparks snapped and popped as he attached something to the internal electrics, and he squawked a little and sucked his fingers. "Unless I kill me fool self, that is. Where's a MAT when you need one?"

He began applying copious amounts of duct tape, forcing the public address system to look something like a blunderbuss designed for the love child of Mad Max and Flash Gordon. "For that matter, what th' church's a MAT? An' are we there yet?"

The front fell off his jury-rigged weapon. He caught it awkwardly and began to tape it back in place. "Because I don't reckon we'll get too many shots as it is. Best to hurry up."

Allie exchanged an alarmed looked with Danny. Sometimes she had no idea what Rob was talking about. No, scratch that. Most of the time she had no idea what he was talking about. Which actually just reinforced her belief that he could be the Doctor. “A mat? Like... a rug? A carpet?”

“And if by 'are we there yet?', you mean, are we about to run head first into an oncoming posse of demented Raiders, then yes... yes, we are!” Danny yelled, fighting with the wheel of the vehicle over the uneven terrain, trying to hold it steady so Rob could work.

Whirling back around, Allie stared through the windscreen and gave a kind of strangled gulp. Advancing towards them across the shattered landscape was a motley group of vehicles, filled with whooping and howling Raiders, all armed to the teeth. Danny didn't slow his speed. Instead, he pressed his foot into the accelerator, sending the ATV rocketing towards the small army at full speed, as if they were playing some sort of bizarre game of 'Chicken'.

“Now would be good, Rob!” Allie called, frantically clutching at her seat. “Now would be really, REALLY good!”

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

"'Plan' is such a strong word, Alley, Rob answered in a cheerful voice. "I've got no plan, jus' the glimmerings of an idea - which I hate, just so you know. I ain't had time to make a plan."

He winced as several large, yielding thumps slapped into the vehicle, followed by bumping and jostling as the tires bounced over several somethings. He swallowed and wiped his pams on the rags if his trousers, somehow acutely aware of all the unknown variables and wishing he had more time.

The APC skewed to a halt. "Showtime," he murmured, hefting the improvised heat gun in one hand and the cylinder of GK-50 in the other. Then he shoved open the door. "Evening! I'm the Doctor!"

Meddler, a small voice nagged in the back of his mind.

The raiders were filthy beasts, almost literally. Say what you like about Jem, but at least her people had possessed some standards of hygiene. These raiders were caked with filth and stank like a midden heap, dressed in tattered layers, with stubs of teeth the color of nicotine stains and butter. Some of their weapons were well-maintained firearms, but most were crude and improvised things. All in all, he decided, they made Los Niños look neighborly. And all of them - the ones who weren't injured by the APC's arriva, at least - stared at him with faint interest.

"Least, I think that's who I am. Nice night fer an apocalypse, am I right?" As he spoke, he noticed the trophies they bore. Ears and fingers, many too small to have been from adults. His expression hardened as he remembered small, laughing voices calling him "daddy"., and his thumb stroked the lashed together firing stud.

"You know what? he finally said. "I ain't in the mood. Burn." He depressed the stud, and swept the microwave beam across their ranks.

[Allison Castiel]

At the last moment, Danny pulled the wheel sharply to the left, slewing the eight-wheel ATV around sideways, plowing horizontally into the oncoming entourage, to make the absolute maximum advantage of their size and momentum. Reaching out, he snatched Allie out of her seatbelt and thrust her down under the dashboard, as the vehicle slewed out-of-control, slamming into the smaller Raider vehicles, bumping over debris and bodies.

“Stay down, Castiel!” he shouted.

She could hear the frenzied screaming of the Raiders, and the pinging of their bullets impacting against the armoured sides of the ATV and the reinforced glass of the windscreen. Her heart was pounding as if it was about to burst, when Danny's foot slammed down on the brake, bringing them to a shuddering stop.

At that same instant, Rob thrust open the door in the rear of the vehicle, bursting out into the night like some kind of avenging angel. "Evening! I'm the Doctor!... Least, I think that's who I am. Nice night fer an apocalypse, am I right?"

The Raiders howled in derision, raising their weapons to shoot him down where he stood.

He waited only the smallest fraction of a beat, before continuing, "You know what? I ain't in the mood. Burn."

Allie raised her head and peered out through the side window just in time to see the effects of the Time Lord's improvised weapon. There was no warning. No flash, no sound, no smell, no round. But instantly, the howling of the mob changed in pitch, escalating from bloodlust and defiance, to screams of sheer agony, an automatic pain reflex, as the energy flowed over them, inflicting an intense burning sensation. Ugly blisters erupted across their reddened skin, bursting open and leaking pus. Some of those closest were clapping their hands over their eyes in evident pain, cringing back, weapons falling from their hands. In seconds, there was utter bedlam, as the would-be attackers changed their mind and turned tail, desperate to get away.



Save

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

Rob watched them run, a grim expression on his face. Even with the raiders in full flight he continued to depress the firing stud. Finally, he stopped only when the heat ray snapped and spat sparks and belched smoke. And then he was tossing it aside with a startled cry, sucking at scorched fingertips.

"Bleeding church bells!" he gasped, then watched them flee with some satisfaction. "Well. Wouldya Adam-an-eve it? Thing actually worked."

Grinning and whistling a jaunty little tune, he strolled over to the ATV. "Hey?" he called, knocking on the door. "Hey! Guess what? It bloody well worked!" With that, he leaned back against the hull and stretched. "Which means we can bugger off an' get down to brass tacks. You comin' with, Danny-boy? Or you gonna stay here an' sort things out?"

[Allison Castiel]

Danny and Allie stared out in some bemusement at the scene of chaos spread out in front of them. The luckiest of the Raiders had managed to turn their vehicles around and to accelerate out of range of Rob's weapon. Some of the unluckier, caught in the melee, had been forced to try to escape on foot. Of these, many had been crushed by other members of the fleeing convoy, uncaring who was in their path, so desperate were they to get away. The ones that had been closest to the device hadn't even made it that far. They were still writhing in pain, some on the ground, some hanging out of vehicles, their bodies wracked with festering pustules.

“Wow,” was all Allie could think of to say, weakly.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed, a thunderstruck expression on his face. “Like spraying feral cats with a hose. Only a hella lot more painful. I reckon even those mad bastards will think twice before they attack this settlement again.”

Suddenly, there was a banging on the door, which made both of them jump.

“Hey?” Rob stuck his head in triumphantly. "Hey! Guess what? It bloody well worked!"

Danny helped Allie to her feet and gave her a little prod towards the door. A little hesitantly, the two of them emerged into the moonlight. Rob was leaning nonchalantly against the side of the ATV, not ruffled in the slightest by the confrontation.

"Which means we can bugger off an' get down to brass tacks,” he continued, with evident satisfaction.

“Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you, mate,” Danny said wryly, shaking his head, still gaping in amazement at the carnage.

“You comin' with, Danny-boy? Or you gonna stay here an' sort things out?"

In the distance behind them, armed soldiers were only just beginning to pour out of the underground tunnels, like ants out of a stirred-up nest. Without Jem to give orders, or Langley or Zanniga to mobilise them, the defenders had been slow to react. Thanks to Rob's quick action, there was now no-one left for them to fight.

Danny shrugged. “I don't fancy stickin' around to explain things to this lot. And I figure I've been pretty much crossed off Jem's Christmas Card list, so I'm not too peachy keen on seeing her again any time soon, either.” He gave Rob a wolfish grin. “Besides, Goodfellow, I bet you're a god-awful driver.”

With that, he re-entered the ATV and settled himself back behind the wheel. “So... where to first?”

[Madame Clacice Beauvier]

One by one, the drops of thick, red fluid splashed down on to the obsidian console, only to be greedily absorbed into the smooth stone surface, leaving not the slightest trace in their wake.

A fond smile tilted Madame Clacice Beauvier's lips as she emptied the silver chalice, feeding her TARDIS with the last remains of Captain Langley's blood. The ship was growing stronger by the day. Soon, it would be empowered enough to take longer hops, no longer confined to travelling the surface of this accursed little planet, but to once more return to the freedom of the Vortex and beyond, into all of time and space. And once there, she would be able to track down and reunite with her beloved brother, Leofric. She had no doubt that they would find each other again. Even the Doctor couldn't separate the Children of Contempt forever.

The Doctor.... Her face shadowed in hate as she thought of him. The Time Lord who had engineered the defeat of her mighty father, Morbius; who had shamed and exiled her family from their rightful positions of glory on Gallifrey; who had murdered her beloved mother; who had stripped Clacice and Leofric of their powers and their honoured roles as Champions of the Gods.

And here he was, interfering, meddling with her plans all over again. She'd guessed his identity the moment she'd laid eyes on him, of course, back in Jem's office. Who else could it be? She was aware of his affinity for the Earth and its puny inhabitants, his arrogant assumption of the role of the planet's protector. Jack had gone on and on and on about how they had to have faith in the Doctor, how he would come to save them all, until she'd wanted to scream at the Torchwood commander to just shut up.

Her perfect brow wrinkled slightly, as she circled the console, tweaking the controls, resetting the coordinates. He'd changed since she'd last seen him. Not just his face, that was only to be expected. But those lightning-spangled eyes, the blue shot through with amethyst and amber, so reminiscent of the Vortex itself... the strange black patterns etched into the skin of his hands... and even more unsettling, the whirling emptiness she received from his mind. All of that was new, since she had met with his sixth incarnation. It would, perhaps, have troubled her... if she had not also previously encountered the Valeyard. This was evidently a later incarnation of the Doctor, she theorised – one that was closer to becoming the vile shayde, that blind, abject tool of the Gods.

Besides, had he not identified himself as the Doctor? Admittedly, in an enigmatic, roundabout sort of way. But she knew his aptitude for trickery. And she would not be fooled.

This time, it was her turn. This time, he wouldn't even see her coming.

“Now,” she mused aloud. “If I was an interfering, philanthropic idiot, determined to re-set the timelines, but apparently without a TARDIS to hand... where exactly on this miserable planet would I go?” A feral smile crossed her face. “To one privy to all the secrets of Torchwood, as I am, a simple question... with a very simple answer.”

Reaching out, she slammed down the dematerialisation lever, and the abomination she called a ship began to silently fade in and out.

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

Danny shrugged. “I don't fancy stickin' around to explain things to this lot. And I figure I've been pretty much crossed off Jem's Christmas Card list, so I'm not too peachy keen on seeing her again any time soon, either.” He gave Rob a wolfish grin. “Besides, Goodfellow, I bet you're a god-awful driver.”

"Oi!" Rob shouted, voice sounding hurt as he climbed into the passenger seat. "I bloody well resent that, Danny-boy! I'm a great driver, I am! Least... I think I am. Maybe." He patted the steering wheel as Danny climbed in. "What's this, again?"

“So... where to first?”

"The Tower o' London," Rob answered. "We're gonna raid whatever's left of a top secret United Nations first contact xenodefense force." He grinned. "Don't bloody know why they' we're top secret, though. You lot were invaded quite publically a dozen or so times over the last thirty-odd years, after all. The Yanks had the right idea - go public, and tell everyone you're protection' 'em."

"What?" Danny asked.

"Just drive, Rob sighed. "Take me word for it, an' drive."

---

The Tower, like most of the city, had seen better days. The entire east side was caved in, the burnt-out wreckage of a helicopter still embedded in the center of the crater. Doors and windows were shattered, and wrecked vehicles were scattered in front.

"Well," Rob observed, "look on the bright side."

"Which is?" Danny questioned.

"We ain't gonna have to jimmy as many locks. An' it's mostly intact, so we don't gotta worry as much about get tin' killed crawlin' around." With that, he hopped out of the ATV. "C'mon," he called, heading for the main entrance. "Mebbe we can nick the Crown Jewels as well. Fer a laugh."

[Allison Castiel]

Allie slept all through the journey to the Tower of London. Giving over her front seat to Rob, she slipped into the back and curled up under a ragged blanket, exhausted and dead to the world, leaving the two men to drive through the night. So different, they were, she thought sleepily, before dropping into the deep well of sleep. Rob with his extrovert personality; Danny so taciturn, with his mordant sense of humour – but they had forged an alliance of sorts, if not a friendship quite yet.

By the time she woke, they were drawing to a halt on what used to be Tower Bridge. The river had dried up long since, of course, leaving nothing but a filthy chasm, littered with an incredible variety of debris. Peeking out the window of the ATV at what had once been one of her country's premier landmarks, Allie could see a rusty red double-decker bus down below, crumpled and discarded like an old tin can. Not far away, she could see a fragmented, glittering carapace, all that remained of one of the attacking Glyptapanteles, brought low by a GK-50 strike. The wind blew eerily through the ruined city, raising puffs of dust, while the amber dawn light reflected from countless shattered windows, refracting a ghostly network of light.

Belatedly, Allie realised they must have driven right through the night. Pulling a sheepish face, she shuffled forward to rejoin the two men in the front, with a mumbled apology.

Rob and Danny were also surveying their surroundings, taking in the total devastation of what had been a bustling metropolis just five years ago.

"Well," Rob observed, "look on the bright side."

"Which is?" Danny questioned.

"We ain't gonna have to jimmy as many locks. An' it's mostly intact, so we don't gotta worry as much about get tin' killed crawlin' around."

Allie couldn't suppress a small giggle. Leave it to Rob to find a bright side in the apocalypse. Although, sometimes she wondered if it was because, somewhere in the lost wilderness of his memories, he had seen far worse, and that was why he was able to face what had happened here on Earth with equanimity. That was a far more sobering thought.

With his usual rush of energy, he'd already jumped out of the passenger seat and was heading directly for the Tower.

"C'mon," he called, heading for the main entrance. "Mebbe we can nick the Crown Jewels as well. Fer a laugh."

Danny shouldered his rifle. “All right, Castiel?”

She nodded, a bit apprehensively. Silhouetted against the dawn light, the half-demolished Tower looked like something straight out of a Frankenstein movie.  There had been plenty of ghostly legends about this place before the Apocalypse.  Heaven only knew what was inside there now. “All right.”

“Let's do it, then.”

Together, they jumped from the vehicle and followed in Rob's wake, each of them hoping that nothing too nasty had taken up residence in the ruins.

---

((OOC:  Clacice will pass for now, as she plots and plans    ))
Save

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

"They had a polar bear here," Rob observed as he approached the gates. "Back in the 13th century." He laughed. "A whole menagerie, really, but that bear was the pride of place. Really puts the bloody ravens in perspective, don't it? Just imagine if they'd believed that the country couldn't fall as long as the polar bears stayed in the Tower. Pretty awesome, right?" Another laugh. "The Yeoman Warders, keeping a bunch of bloody bears on the Tower Green."

The gates hung open, battered down by some impact or another. Rob carefully stepped over twisted, rusted iron as he entered the courtyard. "Course, I suppose the superstition was right. Kingdom didn't fall, until th' ravens left." He gestured around the silent ruins. "Don't see a damn bird anywhere, an' look at the mess."

Suddenly, he stopped. Standing in the center of the courtyard, amidst the wreckage and debris and dust, was a grey-black bird. He peered at it for a moment, as Danny came up alongside him. "Is that..." A sudden strong emotion thickened the man's voice. "A bird? I haven't seen one in... in..."

Rob strode forward and scooped it up. It stayed in his hand without moving or making a sound, even when he slapped it repeatedly against his thigh. Then, with the dust removed, he pulled at the chest. It came off in his hand, and he peered inside. "Batteries are dead," he observed, moving to toss the robot animal aside. Then he thought better, and stuffed it into the ragged remains of a pocket. "Might be able to make some use of the bits, though."

Danny stared, dumbfounded. Rob gestured absently for them to follow as he walked towards the front doors. "Not surprised you lot stayed away," Rob continued, blithely. "Probably still got power, which is a perk. But the Black Archives got defenses. UNIT didn't want nobody just wanderin' in, after all. Still, it's just another lock. Innit?"

Oddly, the main doors of the Tower proper still stood. Rob wasted a few minutes pushing, then looked sheepish as he tugged instead. With a grinding creak of rusted metal, the hinges protested but obeyed and the doors swung open.

[Allison Castiel]

"They had a polar bear here," Rob observed as he approached the gates. "Back in the 13th century." He laughed. "A whole menagerie, really, but that bear was the pride of place. Really puts the bloody ravens in perspective, don't it? Just imagine if they'd believed that the country couldn't fall as long as the polar bears stayed in the Tower. Pretty awesome, right?" Another laugh. "The Yeoman Warders, keeping a bunch of bloody bears on the Tower Green."

Allie rather thought she would have preferred the polar bears. She'd never liked ravens. Their sleek, oily black feathers; their bright, beady eyes; their razor sharp beaks. She'd never forgotten the story she'd learned at school, about the execution of Lady Jane Grey, and how the ravens had flown down to peck out the eyes of her severed head. It had given her nightmares for a week.

She looked around nervously as they entered the first courtyard. Plenty of debris and broken stone, just like everywhere else in London, nothing new in that. No sign of human life, though. That surprised her a bit. The walls were still good, which was important from a defensive point of view; and if she remembered her history correctly, there was a rabbit-warren of tunnels and catacombs beneath here, which could have been used for living quarters, and to provide shelter from the harsh sunlight. At the very least, she'd been expecting a tribe of Los Ninos. Why had no-one taken possession of the Tower? Superstition, perhaps? Mere happenstance? Or was there a darker reason? Remembering the swarming shadows in the Gunnersbury tunnels, she swallowed hard and edged a little closer to Rob and Danny.

The two men had stopped walking and were staring at something in the rubble. Danny was gaping as if he'd seen a miracle.

"Is that..." A sudden strong emotion thickened the man's voice. "A bird? I haven't seen one in... in..."

"In five years,” Allie finished for him, with a tiny grimace of distaste. It would have to be a raven, wouldn't it? It couldn't be a canary or a nightingale or an ostrich, or some other type of bird that didn't symbolise death quite so perfectly. As she looked closer, however, she realised something was wrong. The bird was much too still, like a stuffed replica in a museum. “Is it even alive?”

Rob strode forward and scooped it up. It stayed in his hand without moving or making a sound, even when he slapped it repeatedly against his thigh. Then, with the dust removed, he pulled at the chest. It came off in his hand, and he peered inside. "Batteries are dead," he observed, moving to toss the robot animal aside. Then he thought better, and stuffed it into the ragged remains of a pocket. "Might be able to make some use of the bits, though."

"Batteries?” Allie frowned, not understanding. “Why would they have battery-operated ravens at the Tower of London?”

Then she remembered Rob's comment about the legend. The country couldn't fall, as long as there were ravens in the Tower... it was a con, a tourist swindle, just like so many other things had been in the 21st century, before the Apocalypse brought everything back into perspective.

“Just another example of British ingenuity, I suppose,” she said, answering her own question with a touch of bitter disillusionment, foreign to her usual gentle, sunny personality. “A shame they couldn't apply it when it was really needed.”

Rob gestured absently for them to follow as he walked towards the front doors. "Not surprised you lot stayed away," Rob continued, blithely. "Probably still got power, which is a perk. But the Black Archives got defenses. UNIT didn't want nobody just wanderin' in, after all. Still, it's just another lock. Innit?"

"The Doctor mentioned UNIT,” Allie replied, following him. “They were the organisation responsible for investigating alien threats to the Earth, weren't they? The Doctor said he used to work with them, a long time ago. Perhaps that's how you know about this place, Rob.”

Oddly, the main doors of the Tower proper still stood. Rob wasted a few minutes pushing, then looked sheepish as he tugged instead. With a grinding creak of rusted metal, the hinges protested but obeyed and the doors swung open.

Danny gave a snicker. “Just another lock, huh?” He punched Rob lightly in the shoulder. “Good to know we've got someone with us that's an expert with doors... right, Goodfellow?”

Reaching into the bag she had slung over her shoulder, Allie produced one of the lanterns she had brought from the settlement, and wound up the crank handle.  Perhaps Rob's theory was correct, and the power was still connected here.  But to her eyes, it looked alarmingly dark inside the looming stone passageway.

“Rob...” she began, as the dim light in her hand began to grow stronger. “What exactly are you hoping to find in this 'Black Archive'? I mean... it sounds a bit... ominous, if you know what I mean.”

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

Danny stared, dumbfounded. Rob gestured absently for them to follow as he walked towards the front doors. "Not surprised you lot stayed away," Rob continued, blithely. "Probably still got power, which is a perk. But the Black Archives got defenses. UNIT didn't want nobody just wanderin' in, after all. Still, it's just another lock. Innit?"

"The Doctor mentioned UNIT,” Allie replied, following him. “They were the organisation responsible for investigating alien threats to the Earth, weren't they? The Doctor said he used to work with them, a long time ago. Perhaps that's how you know about this place, Rob.”

"Maybe," he answered. "Honestly, I dunno how I know most o' th' stuff I know." He laughed once, a low barking sound. "Church bells, I ain't even sure if what I know is real. I just feel like it is, y'know?"

Danny shook his head. "If it wasn't for that heat gun thing you built, I'd say you were crazy."

Stopping, Rob glanced back over his shoulder. "Might still be, Danny-boy. Might still be."

Oddly, the main doors of the Tower proper still stood. Rob wasted a few minutes pushing, then looked sheepish as he tugged instead. With a grinding creak of rusted metal, the hinges protested but obeyed and the doors swung open.

Danny gave a snicker. “Just another lock, huh?” He punched Rob lightly in the shoulder. “Good to know we've got someone with us that's an expert with doors... right, Goodfellow?”

"Yeah, yeah," Rob snickered back. "This weren't the lock, though. This was just the door."

Reaching into the bag she had slung over her shoulder, Allie produced one of the lanterns she had brought from the settlement, and wound up the crank handle. Perhaps Rob's theory was correct, and the power was still connected here. But to her eyes, it looked alarmingly dark inside the looming stone passageway.

“Rob...” she began, as the dim light in her hand began to grow stronger. “What exactly are you hoping to find in this 'Black Archive'? I mean... it sounds a bit... ominous, if you know what I mean.”

He stopped and turned back to face them. "Not entirely sure, Alley," he confessed.

"Oh, great," Danny muttered.

"Nah, nah, don't be like that." Turning again, Rob headed into the gloom of the public areas of the Tower. "See, me memory's full o' holes, it is. But!" He held up a finger for emphasis. "I know that the UNIT Black Archives are here, an' they keep all the cool toys in there. Things they don't want getting out."

"Like what?" Despite himself, Danny was getting interested.

"Xenotech. Anachrotech. Dross and leavings from alien visitations from other worlds and other times." He made a disgusted noise. "Things that'd change the world, locked away so you all can't play with them." Another disgusted sound. "Buncha sanctimonious hypocrites they are, really."

He blew out his breath, making a raspberry sound. "But there's me again, rantin' away. I guess I do that - who knew? The point is, I don't know what's in there or if anything is still there. This is an experimental venture, something to try before making the trip all the way out to Surrey. Might save us a few days on the road, it might."

"That's great and all," Danny pointed out. "But what are you hoping to find?"

"Why, Danny-boy, I thought that was clear." Rob flashed him a look over his shoulder. "I'm lookin' fer a time machine. An' hallo!" His attention was called to the floor. "Wot 'ave we 'ere?" With that he squatted, examining the floor. His grimy-looking finger squeaked on the tile as he swept it across and he examined it intently. "Well. Well well well. Somebody's been here ahead of us."

[Allison Castiel]

Inside the fifteen foot thick stone walls of the White Tower, things were still surprisingly intact. Information boards designed for the tourists still hung on the walls, detailing the history of the iconic landmark, dating back to William the Conqueror.

Various artefacts were still on show – ancient crossbows, rusty manacles, suits of armour, various torture implements, even several animal skeletons which had been excavated from the moat. Apparently, the animals had been part of a menagerie, a collection of weird and wonderful animals from around the globe, which the Kings and Queens of England had never really wanted, but which had been gifts from well-intentioned foreign monarchs.

In the dim light of Allie's lantern, the skulls seemed to leer at them as they passed, the empty eye sockets full of shadows. It was dank and cold inside here, the rising sun barely penetrating the high, narrow windows. Their footsteps echoed eerily across the floor, the sound bleak and lonely, compared to the bustle of visitors that had once flocked here.

It didn't surprise the girl that Rob was looking for a time machine. After all, he'd obviously somehow become separated from his TARDIS. Despite the general creepiness of their surroundings, a small kernel of hope unfurled deep inside her. Could it be possible that the blue police box was hidden here somewhere, within these walls? There was an ache in her heart as she remembered the first time she had seen inside it. So amazing, so beautiful, so full of possibility. So very alien, just like the Time Lords themselves. It would be wonderful to see it again. And maybe... just maybe... they could use it to change everything.

“An' hallo!" [Rob's] attention was called to the floor. "Wot 'ave we 'ere?" With that he squatted, examining the floor. His grimy-looking finger squeaked on the tile as he swept it across and he examined it intently. "Well. Well well well. Somebody's been here ahead of us."

For a few moment, Allie didn't follow what he was talking about. But then it clicked. Everything around them was blanketed in dust. The display cabinets, the artefacts, the rope-and-post queue barriers... but not Rob's finger, where he had passed it across the floor.

Allie brought the lantern closer, shining the light over the area where Rob was crouched. “Is it a footprint?”

Behind her, she heard Danny unshouldering his rifle, instantly alert and covering their backs. If someone was watching them, it was hardly likely to be good news.