InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Shotgun shuts his cakehole..."

The Doctor (fromgallifrey) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-06-21 19:29:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 12, location: barn, remy lebeau, the doctor (ten)

Who: The Doctor and Remy LeBeau
What: Friendly fight
When: Day 12: 8AM
Where: Forest, nearest landmark, the Barn
Rating: PG

Status: Complete

The Doctor hadn't slept well. The night before he knew was leading into an even numbered day; an experiment day. It was sad that his mind kept on it like that; kept turning with the desire to anticipate and thwart a foe he could not see. Perhaps that was why the Doctor had such a difficult time pushing his eyes open. He didn't want to wake and see his friends snatched up for someone's trivial idea of a game. He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. What was once the barn was still cluttered with musty couches and spread out among them were the people he'd come to call friends. Each were dozing quietly.

The Doctor saw his opportunity and he made good on it. Pulling on his trainers and slipping out the door he was headed out into the woods. He hadn't forgotten the plans he'd made for the people in charge. He was going to make good on them. Today. Twigs and brush crumpled beneath him as the Doctor moved quietly through the trees. He didn't want to take the road. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He had a singular focus and not one iota of it included anyone else within the glass bubble. Well, unless that person happened to be the Insider.

A not so quiet sigh escaped the Doctor. The silence was good company in the sense it didn't make his head hurt any more though also bad as it didn't do anything to still his mind. Wheels kept turning at a furious pace. He needed to go to work on things other than barns. He needed to stop being so attached to the people here, even Jack and Sarah Jane perhaps, and do whatever needed to be done. Would there be collateral damage? How about what he'd do to that 'Insider' when he managed to find them? For a man who didn't like battles or wars or violence the Doctor was finding himself sliding into the darker parts of his mind where things didn't reside in the moral - where they just needed to be done.

Today he would start with the Post Office, he would look through the nooks and crannies there, and then he and his torch would head down into the tunnels where he would find the Insider. He would find the insider and he would find out everything that they knew. He would then continue his search for those working with the insider and force them to return everyone. Following that he would destroy the town and it's bubble so that it would never be used again. Finally, he would deposit those behind it all in a cell on Rigaula Seven where they would never age, never know freedom, and never have any hope for rescue. It was those thoughts that kept cycling through the Time Lord's head. Running through on loop again and again. It was like a mantra. Insider, puppeteers, escape, prison. Those same thoughts caused the distant look in the Doctor's eye and the setting of his jaw. He would have his way.

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fromgallifrey
2009-06-21 06:49 pm UTC (link)

The Doctor may or may not have heard Gambit approach. If he'd heard, he'd ignored. If he hadn't heard, he'd still ignored. He was trying to remember when he'd last been stuck into a cell himself and what he'd have to do to navigate to the precise moment he had escaped in order to deposit the people behind the curtain there. He had a feeling that the cell would become very cramped.

Chewing in the inside of his cheek a little the Time Lord turned his attention slowly to the man who'd slid up beside him like a feline taking up the last miniscule of space on the couch beside their caretaker. Cats, afterall, had no masters. He'd blinked a few times, bringing himself back into the infuriating present, taking a deep, long held breath of the night air. His lungs had burned he held the breath so long before releasing it.

"I'm thinking about how exactly I'm going to repay the people who brought us here," he replied flatly. It was consuming him, this desire for vengence. The Doctor didn't want battle in any sense of the word. There would be no need for it as he was going to swiftly and effectively take care of those powers that be. They'd underestimated him, and they didn't know by how far. They would know. They would find out in short order why people heard his name and ran.

"You're right," again his tone reserved. "It isn't helping. I shouldn't be doing this," he gestured to the barn behind them. "No, there are far more important things I should be taking care of." This wasn't like a modulator. This wasn't like trying to seperate the atoms of the wall. No, this was about taking very exacting measures against a foe he had never met. It was consuming him from the inside.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-06-21 06:50 pm UTC (link)

"Like wha', Docteur? Like tearin' t'in's apar'? Like blas'in' t'rough 'de tunn'ls? Like makin' hell 'til 'dey come on ou' an' take you on, leave 'de ot'ers outta it? You gon' save 'de worl', mon ami? You ain' doin' shi', bein' angry an' t'inkin' 'bou' t'in's can' be done." The Cajun rolled his shoulders back, flinching some at the pain it caused, but he only breathed in deeply to help subdue it. With a particularly strong gust of wind, the tall red-head swayed some, allowing his body to shift closer to the Doctor's, until their shoulders touched, and he didn't pull back.

"You go' frien's here, non? Capt'in Har'ness." No, not 'Harkness', he could pronounce K's, and he'd dropped that middle letter. He'd been going for 'Hardness'. Unfortunately, his language skills wouldn't help the little jab any, and it'd come out sounding funny. "He look like he gon' run off screamin', you get any more angry. You 'cusin' Logan of bein' uh chile, but you ain' usin' your brain f'no good, nei'ter. T'inkin' 'bou' how you gon' get your 'venge. Merde. Ain' you no better'n 'dat?" He curled his fingers some in the pockets of his pants and turned his head forward again, red hair licking at his cheeks with the motion. "I done plen'y 'dat. Bet you have too, or you don' know how good it feel. But feel like shi' af'er. You wan' 'dat?"

The Cajun shook his head again, sniffing some. The bit of colder weather was unwelcome to him. He'd enjoyed the humid heat. "Non. You uh good guy. You ain' like me, non? Better n' 'dat. 'Bove it. An' if you ain', 'den I gotta say, you disappoin'in', Docteur."

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fromgallifrey
2009-06-21 06:51 pm UTC (link)

Tearing things apart. Knocking the tunnels to dust. Making hell seemed like an understatement. He wanted the entire place leveled. It was consummate. The Doctor's brow furrowed a little however at the challenge of his sitting back and thinking wasn't accomplishing anything. "Of course I'm thinking," he spat like the redhead had just told him he had brown hair. The Cajun moved closer and the Doctor stood his ground. He was boiling and he hadn't even noticed.

Jack had looked frightened for a moment there, hadn't he? The Doctor hadn't thought anyone else had noticed; but, apparently, he'd been wrong. Perhaps Jack had reason to be scared. He'd only ever known the Time Lord while he'd had a firm grip on it all - instead at this moment he was seeing the fury that laid deep, deep down. He didn't have an excuse for it at all; only that something had been let lose with that earth quake, and it wasn't just the foundations or entries to the tunnels below.

The Doctor took a step away, turning his back to the Cajun. He didn't want to hear about disappointment. Was he going to be disappointed when the Time Lord managed to get them all out of there? Why would the mutant care how the Doctor felt afterward, anyway? He'd already made it clear that there was only one person that the red-head was in it for.

"Maybe I am." He said quietly, the follow up 'maybe I'm not' settling heavy down in his belly. He'd destroyed planets. He'd ended the Time War in a way that lead to the destruction of two civilizations. He'd destroyed life in the name of a greater good - but he'd always given warning. He'd told them what was coming and they'd ignored him. He'd told the Insider, too. They knew, they had to know what he was capable of.

The Doctor processed the last bit through his mind again. 'A good guy. You ain't like me.' What was Gambit insinuating? Gambit had run around helping people the day of the Quake - what had the Doctor done? He'd done small bits and pieces, but in the end he felt he'd spent the day flailing as his insides crumbled into the debris of anger. "I won't let you underestimate yourself," he threw over his shoulder, taking a few steps in the direction of the treeline. He saw through Gambit. He could see that the man was so afraid of being 'good' because he either didn't think he could be or didn't think he deserved to be. Perhaps a combination of the two.

Perhaps that's why the Doctor disappointed him so. He was a way for Gambit to be good without 'really' being that way. A scape goat.

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