This is a Doctor Who fanfic written by both myself and my friend CreativeBomb on DeviantArt.
Disclaimer: Any and all Doctor Who characters belong to BBC. Characters which you do not recognize likely belong to either myself or CreativeBomb.
A young man shivered slightly as the bitter Russian winds sliced across his body, picking up trails of powdery snow and whipping it into small, miniature twisters around his feet. He sighed, watching his breath condense in front of him as he buttoned his collar up the rest of the way, restricting his breath slightly.
"Comrade," He turned to his larger companion, biting his lip to stop his teeth from chattering, "How long has it been since we stepped out?"
"I don't know, I've lost track." The other man replied, "Surely our shift's almost over by now, though."
"Right…of course." The first made sighed again, glancing back at the drab building he and his companion had been guarding. "Comrade," He started again, "Do you know why we're watching this building like foxes watch a hen house?"
"Well," the second man replied, with a tone of one explaining something very obvious to a small child, "This is the boss's headquarters, and it would be very bad if any of his enemies were to get in."
"But Petrov—" The first man started, before his companion shot him a rather cold look. "Sorry, Comrade," the man corrected himself, only to be silenced by Petrov's gloved hand slapping over his mouth. His protests were muffled through the leather gloves, but they were still loud regardless.
"Could you hold your tongue just this once, Raivis?" Petrov hissed angrily, "Stupid boy, can't you hear that?"
A strange sound was echoing across the frozen tundra, inconsistent to the usual howling of the wind. Petrov sharply turned his head, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. Raivis looked around as well, mainly to avoid his neck being snapped in half from Petrov's iron grip. His eyes widened as he suddenly heard what his companion had picked up; it definitely wasn't natural sounding, and it wasn't exactly an engine on a jeep or snow mobile. It was sort of a whirring that rippled across the very air itself, causing almost an eerie vibration around anything, and everything.
Simultaneously, the two spotted the source of the noise; a tall, wooden blue box perched off in the distance. They were certain that this was the origin of the sound, because really, it couldn't have been anything else. And it hadn't been there before…had it?
"Comrade," Petrov started, removing his hand from Raivis' mouth, "Call the boss."
"But Petrov—Comrade—" Raivis started, "Shouldn't we investigate this together? What if you need back-up?"
"Are you not only questioning your superior, Comrade," Petrov started in a harsh tone, "But doubting my abilities? It's just a box, I'm fairly positive I can handle myself." Crossing his arms, he waited until the young man pulled out his walkie-talkie, before starting towards the strange box.
Upon closer inspection, Petrov was able to read the words, "Police Box" written across the top of the strange object in bolded print. He circled the potential threat fairly quickly, his boots crunching under the snow as he stepped and turned, stepped and turned, gun poised by his face as he scanned for anything potentially harmful. Brought back to the front of the bizarre blue box, Petrov concluded it posed no threat. It wasn't even that impressive-looking, sporting only a short little light on its top, and a phone built into the side in desperate need of repair.
"Called the boss Pe—Comrade!" Raivis called, jamming the walkie-talkie back into his coat pocket, "So what is it?"
"Some sort of…wooden box." Petrov responded, slipping his gun back into his coat pocket, "It's got 'Police Box' written across it…and it looks incredibly old."
"Well, why is it here?" Raivis asked, "And how did it get here in the first place?"
"How should I know?" Petrov snapped angrily, "And before you answer me with another stupid comment, why don't you do something productive with that mouth of yours, and see what the boss wants us to do with it?"
Nodding frantically, Raivis fished his walkie-talkie back out of his coat. Petrov groaned, turning back to the blue box out of simple curiosity. He noticed a small door handle one of its sides, so naturally, he reached to try and open it. He nearly lost his balance as the door swung open on its own, presenting a strangely underdressed, brown haired young man wearing the most ridiculous-looking bowtie around his neck.
"Snow!" He cried excitedly, glancing around the frozen tundra with wide, bright eyes, his expression and tone similar to that of a child in a candy store, "I can't believe it! It's actual snow, right?" He almost seemed as if he were asking himself the question as he held his hand outside, hoping to catch one of the delicate flakes that had begun to fall from the sky, "It's not synthetic, is it? Or ship debris, because if it was, I would be incredibly upset."
Petrov stared at this strange, bizarre man, with his mouth slightly agape. He was utterly bewildered, both by the man's sudden appearance, and by his eccentric behavior. Regaining his composure, he snapped his mouth shut and turned back to Raivis, "Tell the boss there's a man inside the box."
"A man?" The stranger looked outraged as Raivis relayed the message, "Just a man now, am I?" He shook his head in disappointment, "This is the problem with faking your death. One minute, you're the talk of the galaxy, practically everyone—and I do mean everyone—knows who you are, and the next thing you know, no one looks twice at you! I couldn't walk anywhere without crowds of people pointing guns at me, or just giving me this sort of funny stare…" He glanced over at Petrov again, clapping his hands excitedly together at the man's expression, "Yes, that one, right there! That's the very look! Boy, I miss that look. It's really dull, just popping in and out without recognition, but I must keep this charade up long enough to get where I gotta go without any further interruptions—Snow!" He cried, suddenly remembering his original purpose, "That's right, is this real snow?" He held up his hands, silencing Petrov before he could speak, "No, wait, rephrase, is this Earth snow? Of course I've seen snow before, but extraterrestrial snow's not as cool as Earth snow, but there was this one planet where the stuff was mulit—"
"—SHUT UP!" With a ferocious roar, Petrov's fist swung out and connected squarely with the chattering man's face, who promptly collapsed.
"Petrov—!" Raivis nearly dropped his communication device into the snow, staring at the man slumped at the feet of his companion.
"See, Comrade?" Petrov commented lightly, nudging the man with his boot curiously, "This is what happens to those who run their mouth carelessly." He glanced up towards Raivis coldly, "What did the boss say?"
Momentarily forgetting how to speak, Raivis cleared his throat nervously, "He…he ah…" He shook his head, trying to stop his hands from trembling, "He wanted us to bring the man to him, as soon as possible." Raivis' face fell slightly, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his body to stop it from shaking, "P—Comrade—the boss sounded…strange when I told him about the man and his blue box."
"This entire situation is strange," Petrov replied, glancing down at the unconscious mass that lay before him. "Come on then, boy. Help me lift him."
Though Raivis doubted Petrov actually needed any help lifting the man, he obliged, grabbing the stranger by his arms.
In a remote location, a few miles away from the nearest village, a strange phenomenon was occurring. A kind of shimmer had appeared in the air above the snow. It wavered for a moment, then condensed into something resembling a tear, as if some great being had ripped the very fabric of air itself.
There was a light that spilled out from this tear. It was a strange, reddish light, similar to a glow from a furnace. The rift grew wider, and the air around it seemed to bend, like the air above the pavement in the middle of summer. It was as if there was an inferno raging behind that rip in the sky.
As the rift grew wider, the hellish light was suddenly obscured by a dark shape inside the tear. It stumbled forward, promptly falling face first into the snow. The figure appeared to be a man, with blond hair covered in soot, and charred, black clothing. The figure groaned, raising his head slightly as he croaked;
"I…I made it…"
A bright light began to emanate from the body as his head plopped back into the snow, melting the powdery substance into a thick steam that concealed the body.
End of chapter one!
If things don't make sense, that's okay, they're not supposed to yet.