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[bit_impossible]

[suddenly, without ceremony or the preceding sound of a blue police box tearing through and bending the very fabric of space and time, a tall, skinny figure in a pinstripe suit and long, brown coat appears on the Plane, but he is far too engaged in examining the object in his hand to notice where he is, or rather where he is now as opposed to moments ago.]

--o, no, this name is familiar, Harriet. Hold on, give me a mo'. Where have I seen it before...? [he pauses, tapping something in the theatre programme with increasing agitation until he suddenly exclaims:] Ah, I've got it! See, I knew I recognised that name! "Keri Vier"! Give little Keri another seven years and she'll start using the proper surname of her famous ancestor, Laurence--[he glances up just then, noticing that Harriet is definitely no longer with him]--oh.

[his eyes widen slightly as he glances around and removes his glasses, tucking them and the programme away into two separate pockets] Ohhh, I was just wondering if I'd get a chance to see this place again! Funny, that... Too bad that doesn't work when I really want to nip back to the TARDIS for something. [sniffs, then a broad smile spreads across his face as he gazes at all the stars around him] Blimey, would you look at this place?! Brilliant...it's absolutely brilliant! And--[he spins and spots something nearby]--oh, hello, what have we got here?

[heads over to an information kiosk, plucking one of the brochures up from the pile. after a moment of reading, he can't help feeling that there's something familiar to it, but he keeps to that himself] ..."The Astral Plane"? Oh come on, really? That's like saying--[but what it's like he doesn't get to say. his blood runs cold the second his eyes catch sight of another name he hasn't seen in a long time. a very, very long time.]

Comments

[bit_impossible]

[arches an eyebrow, unsure what to think of that.] Hmm. Interesting. Just a few more and we could have our own football team.

[collector]

I'll play against you with the rest of our people. Actually, no, that would put me on a team with Narvin. No football, then.

[bit_impossible]

Probably a good thing we can't then. My team would win.

[collector]

Sizing up the rest on my side, I'm forced to agree. I highly doubt Straxus could manage a football. I'd thrash you all single-handedly at ping-pong, though.

[bit_impossible]

I highly doubt he'd know what one was even if it hit him in the--hold on a mo'. He's here as well? [then again, Brax did say 'our people' before] Who else? [this news is slightly alarming, truth be told]

[collector]

[noting the alarm] Deep breaths, Thete. Everyone but Damon and Narvin knows. At least I don't think Narvin knows. I haven't told him, anyway, and I don't know why any of you would. And I doubt anyone but the Master has the hearts to tell Damon.

But, to list them: a few Masters, Omega, Straxus, Damon, [the compulsive sneer should give away the name before it's said] Coordinator Narvin, and [no sneer in the slightest] Madame President Romana.

[bit_impossible]

[sadly, he doesn't take deep breaths. it'd probably do him some good! but hearing that there are so many... the thought of sharing that bit of his mind with the presence of his people is so welcome but it almost frightens him at the same time]

...They what? I mean, you I can fully believe knowing about something like--well--but them? It does save a bit of dancing around the issue, but... Blimey...

And Omega's here? Really? And the nexus point hasn't collapsed in on itself, so I suppose the question is: does he have that rubbish mask thing on? Either of them?

[collector]

[Well he tried, anyway.]

From what I can tell, four of you and two of the Masters are from after it. It's no surprise that it spread quickly. I suppose Omega does, in a sense. He looks exactly like the cricketer.

[Perhaps Brax feels that insulting the Doctor's appearance, in whatever form, is a good way to calm him down. Or perhaps he just does it compulsively.]

[bit_impossible]

No surprise? My question is why? Why tell you lot? Why... [looks away, running a hand through his hair] That shouldn't be something any of you need to bear. At least Damon doesn't know! [ignores the fact that Narvin might not either]

But the Master survived? Well, that's...well, if anyone else would have done, it'd be him. He's not in my universe though. I'd know. And Omega lived after that... Does he sound like me as well? The me with the crickety-cricket outfit?

[collector]

Perhaps to give us a chance to change things.

No, actually. Not all the time, anyway. He sounds rather like Isaac Summerfield, oddly enough. Apparently, it bothered Benny, so he used your voice for her instead.

[bit_impossible]

If it were that easy, don't you think I would have already tried?

Really? He's just very unoriginal all around, then!

[collector]

Perhaps you don't want to spend money buying Christmas present any longer.

One of those bizarre quirks of Gallifreyan biology, I imagine. Remember Maxil? Omega killed you, by the way. That works oddly here. So watch out for him.

[He delivers it with the exact tone as he says everything else. Far be it for him to deliver shocking news in an appropriate manner.]

[bit_impossible]

I've never minded spending money like that, especially not for Christmas--or rather the Christmases I managed to arrive for.

[yeah, he can't forget Maxil. who can? but he holds up a hand, looking a bit exasperated and confused] He's still out to kill me? But what do you mean it works oddly here? That wasn't mentioned in your brochure.

[collector]

I try not to advertise new possibilities for murder and torture lasting across the centuries. As a rule. But yes, it does, in that you don't. Die, I mean. Or rather you do, but impermanently. And, if one case can be used to prove the point, we don't regenerate. We just end.

[bit_impossible]

End as in...die for good? The final death?

[collector]

So I'm told. The twins... resurrect the dead. It's not clear how. But people change when they do it.

[bit_impossible]

So...no regeneration, a temporary, sort-of death, and people still change somehow. [rubs his chin, mulling this over] Yeah, I really think you should put a little insert into your brochures about this.

[collector]

I won't advertise the impermanence of death. It isn't something most people need to know on arrival.

[bit_impossible]

It's something I'd sure as hell would like to know upon arrival. Not that I plan on dying here, mind you.

[collector]

And for the children here? Might they not wonder why we know that? What about the psychopaths? We both know more than a few people who would be delighted by the ability to kill the same person multiple times. It's something you do know. From me. Not from a brochure I have my PR Officer write up on a weekend.

[bit_impossible]

[sighs, knowing he's not going to win this battle] Broderick would really start to wonder by that point, wouldn't he?

Anything else? What about those changes?

[collector]

[No one ever wins against Irving Braxiatel!] An odd sort of blood, to start. Black, glittering. Like David Bowie got his hands on too much black paint and decided to put it to good use. Oddly enough, it has no effect on appearance and the rest. They blush as normal.

[bit_impossible]

[mutters] At least it was Bowie and not Stephenie Meyer.

But they bleed black... Not even a transfusion will fix that, will it?

[collector]

I haven't done any experiments on that, but---ahh, I didn't mention that, did I? [He clears his throat.] But a vampire here has blood like that, and I assume she can take in normal blood as well as the altered substance.

[bit_impossible]

[sighs] Oh, there would be vampires here, wouldn't there? Anything else? Werewolves? Banshees? How about Sontarans or Cybermen? [a slight pause] Or Daleks?