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

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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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[info]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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