Twenty-four tributes stand upon metal slabs, staring at a dark blue cornucopia. From the mouth spilled out goodies that would help the tributes survive. Medicine, weapons, food, water, shelter—it was all there for the taking for whomever was brave enough to take it.


The stage was set in the middle of a green meadow. Brightly colored flowers dotted around the tributes, decorating their soon to come deaths. Gentle hills slipped down from the cornucopia, leading into one of four visible ways.


To the north, a city in ruins stood proud on the horizon. Skyscrapers reached to the skies, still letting trails of black smoke drift up into the skies. Buildings of all shapes and sizes hollowly waited for any tribute to seek refuge in what was once a happy city.


To the east, a cold and mountain filled biome rested. A dark ocean was barely visible from the start, stretching on and on until the sky and sea met together as one. The waves were gentle and careful with their moves, beckoning to give someone the somber send-off.


To the south, a dark forest loomed over the horizon. Dark green leaves clung to the trees, meshing together until it was impossible to see the sky from beneath their branches. But the forest kept the secrets that the other biomes dared not.


To the west, a bright red rocky desert waited in patience for a tribute. Cliffs and odd rocks decorated the terrain. From the shadows of caves, creatures scattered from shadow to shadow—ready for whomever was brave enough to find the treasure on the other side of the desert.


They all knew the rules. Either you play, or a planet gets destroyed. If that wasn't enough, then the closest person to the tribute dies on the spot. Everyone had one thing in common—they all had been in touch with the Doctor.


Rose Tyler stood on a metal platform, her eyes narrowed at the things in the middle. She was pulled out of her universe. Away from her human life and away from the adventure of marriage. She was taken from her bed, awoken by her Human Doctor start to shout about a pocket dimension. Then, there was a white light and Rose woke up in a hotel room in another dimension. From there, she was told she either played, or people died. It was simple.


Adam Mitchell glanced about the meadow, his face twisted in a snarl. He could feel the metal in his head still. His life had been hell since he was ditched back at home. Every time someone snapped, he had to hide. He was forced to wear hats at all times, and his parents had disowned him for being a "freak". It was odd what hate and revenge could turn people into. His eyes glanced across the field to Toby Zed, a small recognizing smile stealing over.


Donna Nobel was a special case. She was trained away from the others, and kept just away from the other tributes. Even now, she was staring at the faces, her face twisted in confusion. She knew the rules. Either kill or be killed. But, that wasn't right. Who would do such a thing? Why did these people feel familiar? Why was it getting hotter?


Mickey Smith was torn between two people. To his right, his best friend was standing. After so long of her being trapped in the other dimension, it was spectacular to see her safe once more. But to the left, his wife was just down the row. Friends against family. Old love and new love. Which would he fight for?


Amelia Pond's eyes were wide. She kept glancing at Rory, begging for a way out. Begging him to do something about it. But he was as powerless as she was. The last time she saw the Doctor was when he came home for Christmas dinner. And the moment he left, her and Rory were whisked away to some god-awful pocket dimension. Why though?


Rory Williams was perhaps the least shocked of the tributes. He was calm and strong for what was happening. It didn't truly matter to him that he was killing people. He had killed people when waiting. He had done some terrible things over the 2,000 years. He had done it for Amy. He would do anything for Amy. Even kill an arena of twenty-one and then take his life after. He wouldn't be able to kill River unless she threatened Amy though. That was the one kill that he wouldn't bring himself to. But all in all, Rory was a warrior. He would protect Amy no matter what.


Sally Sparrow awkwardly stood on her platform, her face in a bit of confusion. She remembered Martha's face and that was it. She didn't know any of these people—but they were all older than she was. She was lost and confused—but she was brave. The idea of killing people was openly repulsive to her, and truthfully, she didn't think she could do it. She had no idea what would happen.


Captain Jack Harkness looks sexy even when he's panicking. His fate was different from the rest. Each time he was put into a situation that would normally kill someone, he was taken away. The rules with him were much different. If he "died", he would be taken out of the arena and tortured during breaks for the viewer's entertainment. The idea made his stomach drop. He wouldn't die at all. He'd be tortured.


Howie Spragg was three times more awkward that Sally Sparrow. He looked around the arena, muttering beneath his breath that this had to be some government experiment. The moment after the hotel, he thought he was dead. But no. There was a white and calming light—and then a terrible electricity—and then he woke up in some odd hospital where he was told he'd participate for his life.


Rita Karan was ready to run for the city. She had a strategy in her head. She would be alone and take off to the city where she would hopefully find medicine. From there, she could make alliances and maybe even find a way out of the arena. Either that, or help as many as she could.


Craig Owens did not deserve to be here. He had Alfie. He had Sophie. And yet, here he was. He knew what would happen though. He would die here in some crazy arena by the hands of one of these people. His eyes were burning with tears. He didn't get to say goodbye.


Astrid Peth was oddly confident for a girl who was supposed to be dead. A small smile held on her face. The last thing she remembered was her falling into a flaming pit. Then, she woke up. That meant she was special and she had a purpose to live. After this, she'd go find the Doctor and take up his offer to travel. They'd be together forever.


Vincent Van Gogh. Of all of the people to be in the arena, it was the one eared man who could hear colors. He stood on one of the metal slabs, looking around at the right and spinning colors of the field. He was telling himself that when he got home, he'd paint all of this. He didn't have much skill, but it was the hope in humanity that kept him hoping to go home.


River Song was just much more hesitant than her father. Her eyes skipped across the arena. As prepared as she was, she didn't want to kill any of them though. Would her father kill her? Her eyes shifted to Canton, flashing him a flirty wink of recognition.


Father Octavian had military strength. He had fought countless enemies. But his morals were screaming that it was wrong to kill the innocent. His hand fidgeted with his token of a small ceramic cross. God help them all.


Martha Jones set her jaw, her eyes focused on a bright green backpack on the field. She knew who she wanted to protect—Mickey. As much as she cared about the others, Mickey was the one she would save. She knew all of his tactics from UNIT. She wanted desperately to not have to kill anyone—but life was unfair.


Toby Zed glanced across the arena at Adam, a wicked smirk taking over his face. Ever since the Impossible Planet, Toby had the inkling of blood-thirst. After being thrown into space by Rose Tyler, he awoke in a bed—ready to kill anything that moved. The games were fun for him. He would kill them all. Adam was the person here filled with most hate—they would make a great team.


Christina de Souza was not made for this type of bullshit. She was a Class-A art thief. Not a murderer. Her eyes flashed across the people's faces, looking for whoever the strongest was. She had a plan. She would target one team and follow them. It would be easy to take from them. It was the only thing she could do. Across the meadow, a little blonde girl was smiling at her. Was she plotting to kill her?


Canton Delaware rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles. He had ideas of what he'd do. After all, he was a trained killer. There had to be some sort of weapon in the arena at least similar to a gun. He glanced over to River Song—the one person he had a team with—and gave her a slight nod with a smile. It was more of a debt to her than anything. But one he still would keep.


Abigail Pettigrew lived a good life. She had one day left and she was stolen from her shark carriage with her elderly love. Her eyes shifted over to the younger Kazran. It was when he was an innocent teenager. She was frozen during prep-week and instead, flashed images of training scenarios while unconscious. One day in the arena. One day to live. She was gone.


Kazran nodded his head slightly at the sight of it all. All of the training had lead to this. He hadn't excelled in anything. In fact, he was terrible with most weapons. He stole glances at Abigail, trying to smile and say that everything would be okay. But it wouldn't. It was such a lie.


Jenny knew who she wanted as a partner since the moment she stepped into the arena. Christina de Souza. She was charming and brave. That's who Jenny needed by her side. From across the meadow, Jenny shot her a smile, trying to give her the sign that she was a friend and not an enemy.


Larry Nightengale stared at the cornucopia with a dazed look. He was totally lost and confused. None of this made sense. Why was Sally here? The one girl who made a cameo in the videos was there and looking quite vicious. But one day Larry took a nap and woke up in a world where he was told to kill people. At first he thought he was just really high—until he fell off of one of the training exercises. Then in became a bit more obvious that he was sober and that he was at risk of death.


All the tributes stood in the circle, either poised to run forward or away. Most of them didn't want to kill. They were taught to be better people. But the urge to survive and keep loved ones safe outweighs the morality of saving someone. They would die or kill. Simple.


From far away in a tiny white room, the Doctor sat before a large screen of the games. Tears already burned in his eyes. His closest friends were about to kill each other all because he knew them. This was all his fault. People he barely knew, and then his best friends—they were all going to die. All but one. And after they won, the Doctor was allowed to take them away and keep them safe. The prize was living and being with the Doctor. But after all of that, would he even forgive them? Could he? "Let me go!" He screamed. But no one was coming. No one ever came.


Outside of the force-fields of the arena, a city stood in awe at the screens. It was a different planet in a future and more developed society. Monuments of fours stood across the cities of the pocket dimension's world. A place all made and designed by one brilliant lord. It took choosing and stealing from other universes—but that was okay. He didn't care about them.


The Master stood at the head of the control center, one screen on the Doctor, and the other on the Games. A wicked smile formed across his lips. Time locks were a tricky things. Objects that weren't in there couldn't get in. People that were missing for the Time Wars were kicked out and instead set to a link between dimensions. Almost like purgatory but much more terrifying. So, the Master created the devilish plan. His slice of revenge in the worst way imaginable. The Doctor made the soldiers. The Master just put them against each other.


The Companion Games have begun.