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Chapter 2 Adric's underground lair was a strange mix of the traditional gleaming high-tech bolthole of the insane megalomaniac and the trappings of an Irish theme pub. Fingals had had a lot of spare furniture when the Alzarian was looking to decorate the cavern, and so his henchmen were trying desperately to sit comfortably on half-barrel chairs round the transparent plastic table. They felt that the Oscar Wilde quotes scrawled over the banks of monitor screens was a little excessive, however, and all harboured a secret desire to shoot out the speakers that were trilling their way quietly through an endless loop of Irish folk music. Adric looked up as the sound of gunfire floated through the ceiling. "So much for Varsh," he observed dryly. A few of his Outler henchmen looked a little crestfallen, but hid their disappointment as his massive chair turned slowly and the former Crime Lord of Alzarius faced them. Although he was still wearing the same colours, Adric had replaced the pyjama outfit with leather. He was sitting very still, so as not to make squeaking noises which did tend to ruin the slightly sinister effect. He had discarded his wig in the flight from This Time Round. Strangely, his lack of hair had done little to alter his appearance. He'd been lucky to find his old cronies so quickly. The Outlers had been touring student unions across the country, trying to forge a career as a Steps tribute band. He spoke. "It's been twenty years, but I'm back. Since I've been away, you have all failed in your attempts to find a path to sneak back into E-Space so we can resume our racket on the Starliners. This kind of thing makes me very unhappy, ladies and gentlemen." Tasha shifted uncomfortably and wished they'd stuck with singing 'Tragedy' in empty bars. She looked at the riverfruit spider sitting on Adric's lap. Privately, she was fairly sure it was plastic, but no one dared ask the Crime Lord. They all shivered as he continued. "And when I get unhappy, Leggy gets upset. And when Leggy gets upset, people die!" The spider bounced into the middle of the table, and sat there, unmoving. Adric glowered at the plastic arachnid for a moment, and looked as though he was going to cry. Denzil batted the toy back across the table to him. "Er, I decided to spare your lives because... I need your help with a very special project. If we can't return to Alzarius, we're going to have to take over this world. The Doctor won't try to stop us as long as we remain discreet, but we are left with one problem. Nyssa of Traken. Number two." Wesley stepped forward, and bashed into the table. The eyepatch was playing havoc with his depth vision. He brandished his data tablet excitedly. "I programmed a team of nanites to work in tandem on the task of creating the ultimate warrior. It worked. We created a killer so perfect that no one would even raise a gun to him, let alone defeat him." At an impatient signal from Adric, Wes pressed a button. The door opened... And in walked a scruffy little dark-haired man in a black frock coat and bow-tie. He marched up to the table. "Hello, I'm the Doctor. Dear me, this looks terribly intense, doesn't it?" he observed, looking around the table of henchmen, all shaking with fear at the expression of rage on Adric's face. "What's all this about then?" "A very good question," snarled Adric. Wesley smiled. "Send in the clone," he called. The door opened again... This time a young woman entered, so similar to Nyssa that Adric began to whimper. The effect on the smiling second Doctor was instant. "Die, hideous creature! Die!" he hollered, his face contorting with hatred and disgust. Before the Nyssa clone had even finished stepping through the doorway, he had whipped out a handgun and reduced her to a sizzling puddle with searing laser blasts. "The power is incredible!" he informed Adric and the Outlers, before he leaped cross-legged on to the table and started trying to accompany the background music on his recorder. Even Adric was impressed. "Very good, number two. Send him to find the Trakenite immediately." Wesley shooed the nanite Doctor out of the cavern. They could hear vague tooting noises for a few minutes, but they gradually faded into the distance. Adric smiled deamily and regarded the Outlers. "At last we are ready to begin." * * * A few hours later, Denzil sat and worried. He could see Tasha was worried too. It was nice to be working for the Crime Lord again, but, well, seeing as their biggest heist previously was a particularly large riverfruit, he did wonder whether Adric was getting a little over-ambitious in his scheming. Tasha sat and worried. She knew she wouldn't be asked for her opinion, as people tended to be dismissive of anyone who looked even slightly like the blonde from Steps, but she worried nevertheless. She was the only one of the Outlers who knew that Adric's previous heist had actually failed, and that he'd ended up just picking the fruit himself to save face. Adric reclined in his inner sanctum, and smiled nastily. He had sensed the doubts of Tasha and Denzil as he had outlined his plans (he forgot exactly which James Bond film he got the idea from, although he was fairly sure the word 'gold' was in the title somewhere). They would desert him soon, and inform the others of the Crime Lord's intentions. Just as planned. His train of thought was broken by Wesley. "Sorry to bother you, but the nanites have formed a trade union and insist on talking to you." Adric glanced curiously at the tupperware box in Wesley's hands, but of course, could see nothing. "I thought I told you to flush the bolshy bastards down the bog." He said carelessly, before adding: "Are you sure their droid will do the job?" "It should. It has help." * * * The doors crashed open, their hinges rattling. The figure between them was in black, his face in shadow, a thick dark ponytail swinging over his shoulders. His whole body seemed to radiate darkness. He carried a case with him, also black. It was swinging in time to his steady steps as he advanced towards the bar. He sat on one of the high stools, his case occupying the seat next to him. Nyssa studied him from the booth next to the door, where she was nursing a Bacardi Breezer. There was something familiar about this stranger. Her injured hand was starting to irritate her again. She glanced down in order to give the scar a good scratch. The barman here had heard about Fingals. "I just want you to know," he said slowly, keeping his hands in sight. "Whatever you've got in there is absolutely fine by me." The dark man smiled lazily. He ordered a soda pop, and wandered over to Nyssa's booth. As he sat down opposite her, Nyssa got a good look at his deep, dark eyes. She imagined drowning in them, before she remembered she'd last seen that phrase in one of Tegan's Mills & Boon paperbacks. "You don't see many mathematicians in these places," he said, in a thick accent that she couldn't quite place. Nyssa looked confused for a moment, until he indicated the star-shaped badge on her jacket. She sighed. "I was shot through the hand and all I got was this lousy badge," she quipped, without much humour. Her new friend looked as though he was about to say something else, but the doors crashed open again. There were three sets of footsteps this time. "What are we doing here?" a shrill voice asked. "I don't know," came the distinct tones of the second Doctor. "Perhaps one of our enemies is drawing us towards them for some sort of revenge!" There was a brief pause. "But surely none of our enemies has ever survived to try and take revenge?" came a slightly less shrill voice. Nyssa's hand clutched the strap of Sean rucksack reflexively. She noticed the stranger's hand wandering towards his case. There was no further discussion. The Doctor, John and Gillian entered the bar. All three were carrying hand blasters. They marched towards the bar. "Er," said the barman, nervously. "Are you kids old enough to be in here?" "He seemed so bright," sighed Nyssa as John stuck his blaster up the man's nose. The Doctor had heard this and whirled round. "Die, hideous creature! DIE!" Prologue - Part One - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five
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