Spring Cleaning, Round 2 [Backdated to just after podpop]

[fantastix]

Who: The Doctors, their assistants and friends, some visitors [Open], and the Master.
Where: The TARDIS, the blue police box located in the Hangar.
Summary: Somebody's made a mess of the old ship. The Doctors are very unhappy. Time to dig in and clean up! Also, there's some necessary hashing-out of titles and ownership between three men who happen to be the same person. And a bit of a problem arises...
Warnings: Possibly mild swearing on Nine's part.


The Doctor and his immediate successor with the long coat had run straight from the Observation Deck when they'd learned where the TARDIS was and gotten their bearings. They'd been whisked through the uncomfortable transport tubes, spilled into an arsenal of ships, and been left to search. Luckily, as diminished as their abilities were, they could still sense the old girl. It wasn't long before she was found.

They wasted no time in opening the door, winding up in a console room that could never fit inside the seemingly small exterior of the police box without some serious dimensional shifting. It was a wide space, well-lit, but definitely not the room the two new arrivals were used to.

Here, they'd finally find this other Doctor the other crew members have told them so much about. And with any luck, they'll have some answers too.

Comments

[fantastix]

Not so fast, Suspicious Voice with Suspiciously Vague Motive. The guard pressed his ear against the door, cracking it just slightly. But he'd slam it again at the slightest sign of trouble.

"You'll have to be more specific. What's so urgent?"

[notamoron]

"Oh! Hello there! I need to use the phone. You see, I seem to be lost and can't find Chell. Have you seen her? Tall, brown hair, mute who pretends to have brain damage, the big liar?"

There was a metal ball with a blue eye and arms and legs standing there babbling at you, Doctor.

[fantastix]

The Doctor peeked out the door just to check. He was face to face with a giant...robotic eyeball. That was a new one!

"In that case, you'll have to go someplace else. We haven't got a phone." Not one that was working, anyway.

He waited a beat, deciding to humor the visitor and think back on the description, then added: "And there's no one named Chell in here. I just got here myself, haven't had a chance to make the rounds."

[notamoron]

Wheatley's robotic eye blinked. "Then why does this box say "Public Call" on it?" he asked, pointing up at the sign. "Bit of false advertising there, I'd say."

[fantastix]

"It's a disguise. It looks like this so it won't stand out," said the Doctor, in a place where there were no other police boxes in sight. That part of his plan wasn't working out too well.

[notamoron]

"Well, it's not doing a bloody good job of it," Wheatley remarked.

[fantastix]

"She's staying," the Doctor insisted. He was going to be stubborn about his beloved box for all of time and space.

"A flying saucer might be flashier, but it's not the most practical. It can't fit through narrow slits."

Yes, a ship. Wonderful, isn't it.

[notamoron]

"Well, if you were going to have a little space ship, you should at least make it stylish. Ever considered shiny sleek white paneling? That'd look super."

Yes, Wheatley was dissing your box.

[fantastix]

"I did! That was the interior for a couple hundred years. Thought I'd change it up a bit," he grinned. "It needed more green."

He was going to quite conveniently ignore that dissing.

[notamoron]

"Sounds lovely! Can I see?"

NO. BAD IDEA. DO NOT LET WHEATLEY TOUCH YOUR TARDIS.

[fantastix]

"Nope, sorry. Tour's closed for today!"

He was unusually welcoming today, but he drew the line at the little robot eye. Clearly it was a spy from the ship! It was time to shut the door, but he might not be fast or careful enough...

[notamoron]

"Oh, come on, I'm sure it's--AH!" Wheatley was in the process of letting himself in when The Doctor started shutting the door, and ended up closing it right on his eye. Apparently he could feel pain.

[fantastix]

"That hurt?" the Doctor wondered, re-opening the door. He had to check, this was fascinating. "It was just a door."

[notamoron]

"Yes, well, close the door on your own eye and tell me how it feels, mate," Wheatley grumbled, stumbling back onto his butt(?). "Naturally all us Aperture Science personality constructs can feel pain, because what's science without fear of pain or death?"

[fantastix]

"That's true," he had to admit.

"Wait, who are these Aperture Science people? Are they our science organization?" That was a new name. Very suspicious, it was.

[notamoron]

Wheatley scoffed. "Of course not! Only the most advanced scientific research facility in the whole WORLD," he boasted. "Making stunning advances in the field of science! Or at least they were, before She killed all the humans and started going absolutely nutty with testing."