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

[Allison Castiel]

Allie – or, at least the tiny part of her that still remained conscious beneath WOTAN's will - stirred slightly when she heard Rob mention her name. She wanted to call to him, to beg him to help her, but she couldn't regain enough control over her vocal chords to form the words she wanted. Instead, she stood there stiffly, like a statue, feeling as if she had a rod of steel jammed up through her spine.

“I do not think I will, Doctor Who," responded WOTAN. "Furthermore, I have made a decision."

Trying to look as menacing as it is possible to be with a harmonica, Rob lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah? Wossat?"

"I will download my databases into the both of you. This will exponentially increase my probability of survival and escape."

The tightness in Allie's throat suddenly loosed, but the words that came out were not her own. “WOTAN knows best, Rob. WOTAN will provide.”

“Yes,” Danny agreed monotonously from beside her. “Do not be afraid. WOTAN is merciful. You will still be you, Rob. You will just be a better, improved version of you.”

"Your survival is immaterial. You are nothing more than a bag of bolts!” Clacice snapped. “In the new universal order, established by the Children of Morbius, there will be no room for such as you!”

Again, her body crackled with lethal red energy. But where to unleash it? They could hear WOTAN's voice – but there was no way of knowing where the computer was actually located. Or... was there? Her eyes fell on the motionless forms of Allie and Danny, staring in front of them with empty eyes. The minds of the two humans were still linked to the computer.

In two quick strides, Clacice approached Allie and put her hand to her forehead, brutally thrusting her own mind into the girl's head, blazing hot with power.

The agony was indescribable. The soothing, mesmerising chime of WOTAN's harmonics inside Allie's head rose in power and volume, trying to force the invader out. At the same time, Clacice's attack was like a red-hot, razor-tipped needle, boring its way through the girl's forehead and into the soft tissues of her brain. Allie had never experienced such pain in all her life.

"Show me!"

It felt as if her head was going to explode and she couldn't even scream.

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

"I will download my databases into the both of you. This will exponentially increase my probability of survival and escape."

Rob blinked at that, shocked that the computer had called his bluff. This wasn't good, not at all. Granted he didn't remember anything - well, not much of anything - but that didn't mean he was ready to get evicted from his own skull. He had a bloody use for that skull, he did! He kept what was left of his memories there!

“WOTAN knows best, Rob," Alley droned in her unpleasant monotone. "WOTAN will provide.”

“Yes,” Danny agreed monotonously from beside her. “Do not be afraid. WOTAN is merciful. You will still be you, Rob. You will just be a better, improved version of you.”

"Bollocks," he snapped back, still looking at the camera. "And you can't be serious, can you? You puppet my friends into parroting your demands, and think it'll make me cooperate? I'd have thought a hypersmart AI would..."

"Your survival is immaterial. You are nothing more than a bag of bolts!” Jem interrupted, voice furious.

"Or we could forget our manners, yeah," Rob sighed.

“In the new universal order, established by the Children of Morbius, there will be no room for such as you!”

"Oh, great," he sighed, glancing from Jem to the camera and back. "Six of one, half dozen of the other, and everyone but me wants a universal order. What's wrong with..."

In two quick strides, Jem approached Allie and put her hand to her forehead, brutally thrusting her own mind into the girl's head, blazing hot with power. With a tiny mewl like a strangled kitten, Allie fell to her knees.

“Show me!” Jem hissed.

Oh, no. This wasn't done. Not at all. Rob glanced around the room, looking for a weapon. Some bit of xenotech he could apply, or a chair leg he could bash Jem with. But there was nothing useful. He couldn't bloody well attack her with a frongdryer, now could he? And why did UNIT have a frongdryer, anyway? Bollocks, he was woolgathering. Frustrated, he clenched his fists.

And then he noticed the apparent lines of grit in his hands.

A wash of... call it inspiration, for lack of a better word, flowed through him. He crossed the room with rapid steps, and grabbed a fistfull of Jem's long, red hair. "Geddoff her!" he roared, jerking her backwards as he kicked the back of her knee with a booted foot.

---

(OOC: True story here. This was originally going to be longer, and Rob was going to do something wierd with his psionic circuitry. But then it occurred to me that he was far more likely to just hit her.)

[Madame Clacice Beauvier]

Clacice had been prepared for a psychic attack, either from WOTAN or from the Doctor. She'd braced herself, reinforced her mental control like a steel trap, holding on fast to Allie's mind. If her beloved brother, Leofric, had been here, he would have winkled the truth from the girl's mind more quickly than a human could extract the delicate white meat from inside a lobster shell. Such brutal finesse had always been Leofric's forte. But her brother was lost to her, somewhere out there in the dark, empty reaches of the universe, and that too was the fault of the Doctor.

Curling her lips into a snarl, she pushed her mind even harder, maliciously causing Allison much more pain than she needed to, drinking in the delicious sensation. It momentarily distracted her, so that she didn't even see Rob coming. With a swiftness and a violence that she had never before seen in any version of the Doctor except the Valeyard, he seized her by the hair, yanking her head back. Her knee crumpled, giving way beneath his assault, forcing her to let Allison go.

It should have hurt. The pain should have been flooding through her body, strengthening her link with her glorious Goddess, augmenting her power. But she felt nothing, not even the slightest twinge, her deadened nerve-endings transmitting nothing at all.

With a scream of rage, she twisted around as she fell, flattening both palms against Rob's shirtfront. A small voice in the back of her head warned her to be careful – without access to her own pain, she could maintain only limited reserves of power at any given time. She couldn't afford to waste even a drop, or she would have to obtain fresh blood to summon more, using the dark arts of the Pythia taught to her by her mother.

But in this case, her anger and hatred were too great. Without care or caution, she discharged an enormous gout of blazing scarlet energy, from her hands directly into Rob's chest.

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

He probably should have seen it coming.

Jem made a sound between a cry of shock and a snarl of rage, sagging backwards and twisting towards him as he grabbed and kicked her. Her hands flew, leaving Alley's head and grabbing the wreckage of his jacket and shirt as she fought for balance. It was only as her fingers began to tingle against his skin - a painful tingle, mind - that he realized that letting her grab him had been a bit of a mistake. Because she made a sort of loud angry sound and the world suddenly exploded in a blaze of burning red light.

His muscles locked as the crimson corona flared over and around him, and the only reason he didn't howl in agony was because he couldn't open his jaw. Tears leaked from his eyes, boiling into steam as they left the ducts, and he began to shake as his nerves spasmed and danced under the assault. His palms glowed as crimson flame chased the gritty black lines in palm and fingertip, and something happened.

Somehow, he had no idea how he did it or even how he knew to do it, he felt some of the crimson flame soak into his palms and race along meridians and channels that paralleled his nerves. Somehow, even as he tried to scream, some portion of his mind grabbed the energy and shaped it into... well, into something. Something that blocked the worst of the pain for a moment.

"Get... off..." he croaked, voice harsh, "you... c-" The last word was lost as he drove his head foreward, smashing his forehead into the bridge of her nose. Screaming now, he drove his knee into the pit of her stomach and then staggered away, half-blinded from the pain that roared through him once more as the something gave way. Before he could recover, hands pinned his arms behind him.

"You will halt," Danny droned in his monotone, covering Jem with the rifle as Alley twisted Rob's arms behind him. "WOTAN requires it." There was a click as he thumbed the fire select switch. "And WOTAN is aware that your deaths will not terminate your usefulness."

---

(OOC: Just a wee touch of god-moding there. I hope you don't mind.)

[Allison Castiel]

Somewhere through the mists of pain, Allie could hear Rob's voice shouting. She couldn't focus enough to make out the words, but suddenly the hand that rested on her forehead like a burning hot brand was wrenched away. The relief was instant and overwhelming. With a gasp, she collapsed to the floor, a tiny broken doll, her knees giving way beneath her.

For just a brief moment, there was pure clarity inside her head. Clacice's mind-probe had withdrawn, and in the confusion, WOTAN too had lost his control over her. Groggily, she raised her head, seeing Rob struggling nearby with a strange woman she had never seen before. Then there was a flash of crimson light that illuminated the entire room, forcing the human girl to shield her eyes.

By the time she raised them again, WOTAN had begun to sing to her again, the sound both soothing and reassuring. Rob was her friend, he needed her help. He had to be made to understand about WOTAN. He had to be made whole, so that he could stop fighting and be at peace. Just as WOTAN had brought peace to her and Danny.

Rising to her feet, she moved as if in a dream, to stand behind Rob, where he was bent over, chest heaving, doing his best to recover from his battle with the woman. With a strength that didn't belong to her small, fragile frame, Allie reached out and wrenched his arms behind his back, securing his wrists as securely as if her delicate fingers were formed from steel.

“It will be better for you if you do not struggle, Rob,” her sweet voice informed him tonelessly.

"You will halt," Danny droned in his monotone, covering Jem with the rifle as Alley twisted Rob's arms behind him. "WOTAN requires it." There was a click as he thumbed the fire select switch. "And WOTAN is aware that your deaths will not terminate your usefulness."

“You will come with us now,” Allie continued. The sound of WOTAN's song seemed to weave throughout her entire being, uplifting and exulting her. Nothing seemed more important than sharing this marvellous feeling with Rob, so that he too could experience the tranquillity of WOTAN. “And together, we will all serve His glorious purpose.”

---

((OOC:  No problem!!!  <3 <3 <3))

[Madame Clacice Beauvier]

Clacice could feel the pressure of Rob's blows. She heard the cartilage in her nose crunch as he drove his forehead into her face. She could sense the blood as it dripped to the floor, forming a puddle beneath her where she fell.

But she felt no pain.

She tried. She reached for it, willing her nerve receptors to flare into life, aching for the sweet sensation, needing it to ignite the flame of her power. But there was nothing but emptiness, an utter absence of stimulus.

Back when she'd been at the height of her power - back when she'd been the Champion of the Eternal Pain, favoured of the gods - the blast of energy from her hands would have fried the Doctor's bones into cinders where he stood. Now, she was nothing but a shadow of what she had been, and the blast had been enough to debilitate him, and no more. Somehow, he had managed to absorb her power, to reshape it in some way, to use it against her. Had he learned the ways of the Pythia, since she had seen him last? Had he become proficient in the use of quantum mnemonics?

She forced herself to sit up, her body responding sluggishly, clearly still reeling from his assault, even though she could feel nothing.  Grief at her loss rose inside her, mingling with her rage and threatening to consume her.

It mattered not what the Doctor had become, in the intervening years. She would still have her revenge on him, if it was the last thing she ever did. And no tin-pot computer would be allowed to stand between them.


"You will halt," Danny droned in his monotone, covering Jem with
the rifle as Alley twisted Rob's arms behind him. "WOTAN requires it."
There was a click as he thumbed the fire select switch. "And WOTAN is
aware that your deaths will not terminate your usefulness."

“You will come with us now,” Allie continued. “And together, we will all serve His glorious purpose.”

“You're a fool, Doctor,” Clacice hissed as she lurched to her feet, her movements clumsy and devoid of her usual grace. Until she recovered, her power would be no use against Beckett's gun. And from the blank, unheeding look in his eyes, she had no doubt that the man would use it. “A few more seconds, and I would have had the information we needed to fight back. You always were a coward. Look at her – do you really think you've saved her? All you've done is to prolong her agony.”

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

“You will come with us now,” Allie continued. “And together, we will all serve His glorious purpose.”

Rob made a hissing, painful noise as he twisted and freed his arms. Jem's palm print was burnt on his chest, a flaming red sunburn of a mark that stung as he moved. "Bleedin church," he muttered. "Shoulda used me belt."

“You're a fool, Doctor,” Jem snarled as she dragged herself to her feet. Rob braced himself, but she glanced at the rifle and decided against attack. “A few more seconds, and I would have had the information we needed to fight back. You always were a coward. Look at her – do you really think you've saved her? All you've done is to prolong her agony.”

"Look, you bloody stupid bint," Rob snapped back, "next time I want yer opinion, I'll ask. I'll say somethin like 'what should I do, hm? What would a barmy murder witch what..."

He staggered forward as Alley shoved him. "You are required," she said in a monotone.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." he groused, jamming his hands in his pockets as he walked. "Bleedin computers."

---

The walk wasn't far, but it was tense. Something about being forced to walk alongside the transformed Jem while being flanked by brainwashed friends made it stressful, at bare minimum. But they really just had to cross the large open room and pass through a security door into another large room filled with humming computer equipment. It was a mishmash of technologies - ancient mainframe equipment from the 1960s huddled up against reel-to-reel devices from the 1970s, all of which networked into modern PCs. Rob walked slowly along the banks of equipment, examining it curiously as he dragged a finger across surfaces. "Dust," he observed, looking about. "We're standin' in your loaf, ain't we?"

"Your observations are unneeded," Danny said, gesturing with his rifle. "Sit there."

"Wot? In these medieval-lookin dental surgery chairs?" He patted one of the chairs, sending a puff of dust up with each blow. Then he looked at Jem. "See now? Torture ain't necessary. We got the information anyway."

"WOTAN is not instantiated here," Danny countered in his monotone. "This is simply the transferance room."

Rob's face fell, and he dug around in his pocket. "Pity. Woulda been nice to crow on about it. Still..."

"Sit!" Danny ordered.

"Hang on, hang on," Rob wheedled. "Jus' gonna play a little song, first." He brought his harmonica up to his lips. "I calls it the Wotan's a Great Poncy Git Blues."

[Madame Clacice Beauvier]

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." he groused, jamming his hands in his pockets as he walked. "Bleedin computers."

As much as she hated the Doctor, Clacice couldn't help but agree. She was itching for the chance to wipe WOTAN from the face of the Earth, to extinguish the sound of its smug, metallic voice, so she didn't have to put up with it any more. She was the daughter of Morbius. Being ordered around by a tangle of circuitry was insufferable. With a baleful glare towards Danny and his rifle, she swept along at Rob's side, calculating the possibilities. All she needed was a quiet moment to perform a summoning, using what remained of Langley's blood... and then she would call forth something that would raze this building to rubble. WOTAN would not stand a chance against even one of the minor Great Old Ones.

The dusty room in to which they were led smelled dank and unused. Clacice had never seen it before, the security door having been camouflaged perfectly with the wall. Her eyes narrowed in cold anger. She couldn't help asking herself how many other secrets Kate Lethbridge-Stewart and Jack Harkness had hidden from her.

Rob walked slowly along the banks of equipment, examining it curiously as he dragged a finger across surfaces. "Dust," he observed, looking about. "We're standin' in your loaf, ain't we?"

"Your observations are unneeded," Danny said, gesturing with his rifle. "Sit there."

"Wot? In these medieval-lookin dental surgery chairs?" He patted one of the chairs, sending a puff of dust up with each blow. Then he looked at Jem. "See now? Torture ain't necessary. We got the information anyway."

"On the contrary,” she huffed, taking a seat in the other chair. “I find torture is always necessary. If not for information, then for pure entertainment value.”

Could she perform the summoning here, she wondered? There would be no opportunity to draw a protective pentacle with the blood... but it was possible that the strength of her will and the intricacy of her quantum mnemonics would suffice to keep her from being consumed. The risk was great – but she was no stranger to taking risks.

"WOTAN is not instantiated here," Danny countered in his monotone. "This is simply the transferance room."

Rob's face fell, and he dug around in his pocket. "Pity. Woulda been nice to crow on about it. Still..."

"Sit!" Danny ordered.

The other Time Lord had that silver thing in his hand again. Curious, Clacice paused in her own scheming. Was it a weapon? Some kind of electro-magnetic pulse, capable of shutting down a computer? Some kind of corrosive nanotech? Perhaps she should conserve her power and allow the Doctor to weaken – or perhaps even defeat - WOTAN instead.

"Hang on, hang on," Rob wheedled. "Jus' gonna play a little song, first." He brought his harmonica up to his lips. "I calls it the Wotan's a Great Poncy Git Blues."

Clacice stared at him incredulously. A song? It was a musical instrument? No, it was too simple, there had to be more. Oh, but she knew him too well. He was up to something. Always the charlatan, always the conjurer, always able to pull some sort of devious trick at the last moment. She caught her breath slightly, waiting to see what he would do... and waiting to see if WOTAN would fall for it.

[Allison Castiel]

Her brief flicker of self-awareness now extinguished, Allie glided along behind Rob and Jem, her footsteps in perfect synchronisation with Danny's. She felt as light as thistledown. No more fear, no more anxiety, no more pain... no more anything. It was almost like a form of ecstasy, to let it all go; to submerge herself in WOTAN's will and to know that all would be dealt with, according to his purpose.

And soon, Rob would feel it too. Soon he would become one of them and he would understand just how perfect life could be. Serenely, leaving Danny to usher forward their charges, the small blonde girl followed the direction of the melodic chiming inside her mind and moved over to the chairs.

Once there, she began preparing the various leather straps that would bind Rob in place, anchoring his body and keeping it from harm, as he became the honoured vessel of the great and glorious WOTAN.

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

"Hang on, hang on," Rob wheedled. "Jus' gonna play a little song, first." He brought his harmonica up to his lips. "I calls it the Wotan's a Great Poncy Git Blues."

"You try my patience, Doctor Who," WOTAN responded, and Rob found himself smiling just a little at the irritated tone in the machine's artificial voice.

"I figure I try everyone's patience, Wotan old son," he laughed. "Jem over there can confirm that." Then, without further ado, he began to play. There was a look of concentration on his face as he worked the harmonica as he tried to remember the tones he'd heard when the computer had taken over Alley's and Danny's minds. As he did, the instrument began to produce a shrill, atonal dissonance that stabbed like an icepick as he blew. Seconds passed.

"See, there's a problem with imperative harmonics," he announced, not 100% certain he knew where he was going with this himself but willing to trust the mad-sound ramblings emerging from his subconscious. "An' that problem is that they're driven by sound, hey? And sound is just pressure waves, an' pressure waves can be cancelled by pressure waves with th' same amplitude and an inverted phase."

He wiggled the harmonica between finger and thumb. "If you've got somethin you can use to generate antiphased waves. How you feelin' Alley?" He played again, producing more shrill, off-key sounds. "Better? An' you, Danny-boy?"

[Madame Clacice Beauvier]

The dissonant wail that emerged from the silver object harrowed Clacice to her bones. It was more than just audible noise – it clawed through her ears and along her noetic pathways, stabbing deeply into her brain. Instantly, she muttered a word under her breath, invoking her quantum mnemonics to render herself temporarily deaf, blissfully shutting out the barrage of sound.

A sonic device. She should have known. The Doctor had always had an affinity for sonic technology. And it was typical of his random, whimsical nature, to have incorporated it into a peculiar musical instrument.

Almost from the first note, Castiel and Beckett had fallen to their knees, clutching at their heads, their eyes tightly shut in agony. The rifle, Clacice noted with grim satisfaction, had tumbled to the ground with a metallic clatter. WOTAN had clearly lost his control over them. And without slaves to act as his hands, the computer was no threat.

"See, there's a problem with imperative harmonics," he announced, not 100% certain he knew where he was going with this himself but willing to trust the mad-sound ramblings emerging from his subconscious. "An' that problem is that they're driven by sound, hey? And sound is just pressure waves, an' pressure waves can be cancelled by pressure waves with th' same amplitude and an inverted phase."

None of them were paying any attention to her. Rob was concentrating on the silver device; WOTAN was occupied trying to fend off the attack; and the two humans were dazed and disoriented.

Clacice gave a smile that was half a sneer. Softly, inaudibly to anyone in the room, she began to chant again, channelling her power towards her perception filter. This time, however, instead of reshaping her appearance, she willed her form to become insubstantial, merging perfectly with the background, so that it would seem she had disappeared altogether.

If there was one thing she had learned from the example of her father, Morbius, it was the importance of living to fight another day. Perhaps the Doctor would escape from WOTAN's clutches, perhaps he would not. To defeat her, he still had to travel back in time to the Amazon, where her plans had begun and where the timelines had begun to diverge; to the precise moment where that damaged Dalek had been stung by the tiny little wasp. He had no resources, no TARDIS, and Jack's vortex manipulator was damaged beyond repair.

Her hour would come. The vengeance of the Children of Contempt was assured. But it didn't have to happen right now. Better that she should regroup and monitor the situation from afar.

Moving invisibly, she wove her way with silent footsteps towards the door, slipping quietly away and heading at a brisk pace back to her TARDIS.

[Allison Castiel]

Allie knew nothing about imperative harmonics, or pressure waves, or any of the other things Rob was talking about. However, she could have given first hand witness to the effects. As with Clacice, the shrill polyphony of notes flooded through her ears into her mind, shredding the torpor WOTAN had woven around her consciousness, similar to a knife ripping through cotton wool. At first, it hurt. But then, once the computer's compulsion shattered, she seized the sound in the same way a drowning person might seize a life line, using it to drag herself free of the drugging cloud of numbness.

She couldn't remember falling to her knees, but she could feel the hardness of the floor beneath her, and sense the warmth of Danny beside her. Her ears were ringing wildly, Rob's notes still bouncing around in there, like pinballs rebounding off a set of bumpers. It wasn't a pleasant sensation, but the resonance kept WOTAN from regaining his dominance over her. Bending over at the waist, her arms wrapped around her middle, she gasped for breath, as though she'd been running for miles.

“How you feelin' Alley?" [Rob] played again, producing more shrill, off-key sounds. "Better? An' you, Danny-boy?"

"I can...” Danny's voice rasped, worse than a disused gate. He shook himself like a wet dog. “I can think again. Bloody computer's... out of my head.”

Allie was almost too afraid to speak, in case WOTAN's words emerged again, instead of her own. But when she tried, she was relieved to find that was no longer the case.

“What happened, Rob?” she asked in a small, scared voice.

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

He wiggled the harmonica between finger and thumb. "If you've got somethin you can use to generate antiphased waves. How you feelin' Alley?" He played again, producing more shrill, off-key sounds. "Better? An' you, Danny-boy?"

Despite the confident words, he held his breath as the two blinked and shook and seemed to struggle with themselves. "I can...” Danny's voice rasped, worse than a disused gate. He shook himself like a wet dog. “I can think again. Bloody computer's... out of my head.”

"That's the stuff!" Rob exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. "An' you, Alley?"

She worked her jaw for a moment, as if unsure if she could talk. “What happened, Rob?” she asked in a small, scared voice.

"It's... uhm..." He gestured vaguely. "I've gotta head fulla stuff, theories an' such. It all seems ta mean you were hypnotized. Wotan here piped a little tune, and made th' two o' yer dance to it." The harmonica glittered as he waggled it between thumb and forefinger. "Course, he ain't th' only one what can play a catchy tune, y'know. An' I've got a few tricks up me sleeve meself. An' speakin' of tricks... hey! Jem!"

Turning in a slow circle, his expression quickly moved from good humor to confusion to worry. "Jem? Olly olly in free? Jem?" He scratched his head. "Where the bleedin' church did she scarper off to? Only one door outta this room, ain't there?"

"You cannot escape, Doctor Who," WOTAN thundered. "You will..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Rob interrupted dismissivly, looking around the room. "Sod off, you one-eyed Pistol. I'm goin' shoppin', I am."

"You will serve the will of WOTAN! You are required!"

"Don't rightly care, do I?" He tugged a mainframe away from the wall, and examined the area behind it. "Lesse..."

"You are required, Doc..." The voice cut off with an electrical popping sound.

"Boring conversation," Rob laughed, tossing the cable for the loudspeaker to the ground. "C'mon, we're gonna have company. If he kin fit one o' them robots down here, anyway. Which he might not be able to do, now that I think of it. He'd have had one of 'em down here pushing me an' Jem around, if he could."

Sighing, he perched himself on a desk. "Still, this is largely a bust, innit? So here's me plan: we go back out into th' main room an' grab any shiny bits of swag we can fit in our pockets, anythin wit'a lovely sorta 'this ain't from around here' vibe we can carry or stuff in a pocket, an' we leg it fer th' Jam Jar an' Botany BAy fast as we can. Then we can see what the takings are, and start figurin' out they're good for as we head for Surrey."

He peered at the door.

"Important part of the plan. Don't let a robot shoot you inna back. That'd be bad. Thoughts? Complaints? Anyone wanna whine about how we're doomed before we leg it?"

[Madame Clacice Beauvier]

To any other Time Lord, Clacice's TARDIS would be an abomination. Fed on human blood since infancy, and nurtured with dark magic, it had matured into an entity as twisted and evil as its owner. Outwardly, it chose to take the form of an intricately-carved stone idol. Inwardly, it was like stepping inside a ventricle of a vast, beating heart. The walls were scarlet and fleshy, with a muscular texture, laced with throbbing veins. The floor and the console were formed from what appeared to be black obsidian, the central column rising to the over-arching, cathedral-style ceiling, and lit from within with crimson light. The atmosphere was too warm and heavily perfumed, reminiscent of Clacice herself.

Passing through the control room, she brushed her fingers along the sharp, jagged edges of the console, in fond greeting. But she did not pause. She had other business. Continuing on, she strode into the tangle of passageways beyond, heading for the centre of the ship – the place in which the Cloister Room would be found in any other TARDIS. Here, however, there was no serene garden, no gracious stone columns, no sense of peace and meditation. Instead, a huge, empty chamber, with a polished black stone floor, inlaid with channels of blood red, fashioned in the form of a pentacle.

As she crossed the room to take her place at the centre, her boots echoing eerily on the marble, the pentacle sprang to life beneath her feet, bathing the room in a vermilion glow. Seating herself, she removed a vial from within her robes, holding it high before her. The last, the very last, of Captain Langley's blood.

Chanting softly, she poured the thick fluid into the nearest runnel, watching the droplets trickle and slide hungrily along it, until it had anointed the entire pentacle.

Then she closed her eyes and regulated her breathing, deep and slow.  If the Doctor dared to disturb the timelines, she was ready.
 
And she would see to it that he would not escape with his life.

[Allison Castiel]

"It's... uhm..." He gestured vaguely. "I've gotta head fulla stuff, theories an' such. It all seems ta mean you were hypnotized. Wotan here piped a little tune, and made th' two o' yer dance to it." The harmonica glittered as he waggled it between thumb and forefinger. "Course, he ain't th' only one what can play a catchy tune, y'know. An' I've got a few tricks up me sleeve meself.”

Hypnotised? Yes, Allie thought that was right. She remembered hearing that strange, soothing music inside her head... but she couldn't recall exactly what it sounded like. When she tried, all she could think of was the discordant notes Rob had created on his harmonica.

“An' speakin' of tricks... hey! Jem!"

Confused, Allie looked around. There had been that strange woman here before – the one with the long red hair, who had touched her head and hurt her – but she hadn't seen any sign of her erstwhile leader.

"Jem? Olly olly in free? Jem?" [Rob] scratched his head. "Where the bleedin' church did she scarper off to? Only one door outta this room, ain't there?"

“Jem was here?” Allie voiced her bewilderment. “But we left her locked up back at the settlement, with Captain Langley and that horrible Richter. How could she have gotten here so quickly?”

"You cannot escape, Doctor Who," WOTAN thundered. "You will..."

Allie jumped at the sudden sound, and Danny bent to snatch up the rifle. But Rob didn't seem to be especially concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Rob interrupted dismissivly, looking around the room. "Sod off, you one-eyed Pistol. I'm goin' shoppin', I am."

"You will serve the will of WOTAN! You are required!"

"Don't rightly care, do I?" He tugged a mainframe away from the wall, and examined the area behind it. "Lesse..."

"You are required, Doc..." The voice cut off with an electrical popping sound.

"That thing has a one-track mind!” Danny observed, moving to the door and peering back out into the main room of the Black Archive, his rifle held at the ready.

"Boring conversation," Rob laughed, tossing the cable for the loudspeaker to the ground. "C'mon, we're gonna have company. If he kin fit one o' them robots down here, anyway. Which he might not be able to do, now that I think of it. He'd have had one of 'em down here pushing me an' Jem around, if he could."

"There's nothing stirring out there right now,” Danny reported. “Not that I can see, anyway. I'm assuming this is the place we came here to find, though, right? So that's gotta be a plus.”

Sighing, [Rob] perched himself on a desk. "Still, this is largely a bust, innit? So here's me plan: we go back out into th' main room an' grab any shiny bits of swag we can fit in our pockets, anythin wit'a lovely sorta 'this ain't from around here' vibe we can carry or stuff in a pocket, an' we leg it fer th' Jam Jar an' Botany Bay fast as we can. Then we can see what the takings are, and start figurin' out they're good for as we head for Surrey."

“A few more weapons would be good, if we could find them,” Danny nodded, still keeping careful watch. “Something with a bit more punch than this rifle. Castiel and I know this area like the backs of our hands. But we've got no idea what's down Surrey way. Could be anything.”

[Rob] peered at the door.

"Important part of the plan. Don't let a robot shoot you inna back. That'd be bad. Thoughts? Complaints? Anyone wanna whine about how we're doomed before we leg it?"

“We were doomed long before you arrived, Rob,” Allie replied shakily. “And up until now, complaining about it has never changed it.” She paused briefly for a moment, then ventured, “Do you suppose there are any more hidden rooms like this one?” She gestured at all the mainframe equipment surrounding them. “If there was a way to hack into WOTAN's systems, perhaps we could find out? Maybe there's something hidden here that you could use.”