Post by Fitz Kreiner on Jun 9, 2009 13:12:53 GMT
The Master strode into the office overlooking the security area of the factory floor with an air of confidence and satisfaction. All preparations for the advancement of his plans had been sorted. All shipments had been made; both the Rutillus Alec and Les Plastiques Maîtrisent products had been sent out across the country and even some shipments had been sent to locations in France, thanks to the French factories that used to belong to Lemaitre.
The street performer Autons were already positioned about London, Manchester, Birmingham, Liverpool, Sheffield and Newcastle and the mannequins were in shops around the country. Even all the facsimiles’ were in place, ready for his word of activation. Smiling to himself, the Master stood back briefly, his arms folded as he stared at the array of technology before him.
A sound at the door to the office made him turn. Andrea Rogers entered and came to stand just before the Master. The Master nodded and Andrea turned and took a seat before the main instrument panel and started to type at the keyboard. Taking a step forwards, the Master leant on the back of her chair and looked over her shoulder at the screen directly before him.
“Very well my dear, I think it’s time we sent the first activation signal.” He said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Yes Master,” Andrea replied.
Turning her chair slightly as the Master stood up straight; Andrea reached out to a large dial to the side of the terminal she was working at. Twisting it around a quarter of the way, she turned to look up at the Master. The Master reached into his jacket and withdrew a silver key. Stepping forwards, he inserted it into a small hole in the panel and twisted it. Leaving the key in its place, he depressed the small red button beside it.
Standing back and folding his arms, a smug smile spread across the Time Lord’s face as he nodded his head slightly. Leisurely, he blinked and turned to face Andrea. “Thank you my dear, you can go about your other tasks now,” he said soothingly.
“Are you sure?” She asked, getting to her feet and looking at the Master.
Smiling, the Master placed a hand on her cheek. “Yes, thank you my dear. I can manage fine here. You know what you have to do.”
Silently, Andrea turned and walked from the office, closing the door behind her. Without looking back, she walked down the metal gantry and down the metal stairs to the factory floor. Watching her depart, the Master turned and took the seat before the panel for himself. Reaching across, he flicked a small chrome switch and looked at the monitor sat above. It flickered to life, showing an image of the main entrance and car park.
“Now, Doctor,” he muttered to himself. “Where are you?” Sitting back in the chair, the Master allowed himself to chuckle.
Morris slammed the car door shut behind him as he climbed into the black car. Corporal Loding was already sat in the passenger seat, Private Blackwood sat in the rear. Starting the engine, Morris pulled the car out of the garage. He’d driven it out into the main street and was driving out of Camden when all hell broke loose.
The street performers that were lining the streets suddenly straightened up as one and started shooting into the crowds and at the cars. The rear windscreen of the car in front shattered in an explosion, showering the road and the windscreen of Morris’s staff car with crumbled glass. Swerving to avoid it, Morris found that the morning shoppers were now trying to escape the Autons that lined the roads, firing into the panicked crowds.
“What should we do, sir?” Loding asked, ducking as the passenger window exploded in a shower of glass.
“Keep going,” Morris replied, swerving again as a woman ran screaming into the road. “There’s nothing we can do here. Not the three of us. HQ will have to deal with it.”
Seeing a street performer step into the road ahead of him and level its hand weapon, Morris put his foot down and drove straight at it. The plastic killer hit the bonnet of the car and crashed into the windscreen, causing it to fracture into a spider web pattern. There was a loud clattering as the Auton rolled over the roof and fell into the road in a heap.
Unable to see out of the windscreen any more, Morris lashed forwards with a fist and the shattered glass exploded over both himself and Loding. Glancing back in his rear view mirror, he saw that the Auton was getting back to its feet and raising its arm again, firing after the car. Cutting in front of a car preparing to turn at a junction, Morris ignored the car horn, which was already adding to the cacophony of noise. Glancing back, he saw that the Auton had lost interest in the car and was turning back to the high street massacre.
As the street disappeared from sight, Morris glanced round at his passengers; both Loding and Blackwood were looking back as well, both unharmed. Morris wondered whether they both felt the huge pang of guilt that he felt at not being able to do anything to help the innocent civilians being shot dead in the street. He knew that if they’d stopped and started shooting at the Autons, there was the risk that they would hit innocents and the very strong chance that they would add to the dead.
Turning another corner, Morris saw there were still other street performers dotted about; living statues and mime artists. Strangely, these were still posing as performers. As they flashed by, Morris wondered why, whether something had prematurely caused those in the Camden high street to start killing or whether these were awaiting a secondary signal from the Master.
Gripping the wheel in determination, Morris hoped that the Doctor would come through sooner rather than later, and his following him there would only be a courtesy.
Lovatt and Bailey looked up when the door to the briefing room crashed open and a breathless Private burst in, crashing to attention. Bailey opened his mouth, before closing it and glancing to Lovatt who nodded subtly, allowing him to take the Privates comments.
“Well, what is it private?” Bailey asked, straightening up and pulling himself to his full height.
“Sorry to interrupt sir, sarg.” he said looking from both Bailey to Lovatt.
“Come on, spit it out man,” Bailey snapped.
“Well, erm, the street performers outside have started attacking civilians, shoppers and the like.” The Private said, looking very uncomfortable.
Bailey’s eyes widened as he turned to Lovatt. “Autons,” she breathed.
“Well?” Bailey turned back to the private. “Are they these Auton things?”
The private nodded solemnly. “All initial reports suggest they are.” He confirmed. “Seems they all kicked off after Captain Morris left. We haven’t got many lads left to deal with ‘em.”
“Well, we’ll have to send what you do have,” Bailey said. “First thing we have to do is to protect the innocent and the public. Will you see to that Sergeant?” He asked, turning to Lovatt. “I’ll get in touch with my HQ and the police; get their support and then I’ll be with you on the ground.”
Swallowing, remembering her previous encounter with the Autons the night before, Lovatt nodded and ushered the private from the room. Watching them go, Bailey turned to Ashfield who had stood silently observing the brief conversation.
“I think it’d be best if you stay here out of the way, sir.” He said, grabbing his peaked cap from the table and heading to the door.
“I think it would be best if I were to return to somewhere where I could do more good.” Ashfield replied.
“With all due respect, sir,” Bailey said turning to face Sir Daniel as he pulled his cap into position on his head, “I think it would be wise if you were to stay within the confines of this building. It’s liable to be too dangerous outside for you and any other civilian until we can get a lid on this situation. If you want to get in touch with people on the outside, it’d probably be best if you were in the operations room. There’s more than enough communication equipment there, and it’s one of the safest places inside the building from the main street.”
“If you think that’s best?” Ashfield said, quietly.
“I do indeed, sir,” Bailey said, indicating to the door with his swagger stick, “now, after you sir.” Tapping his swagger stick against his leg, Bailey watched Ashfield walk from the room, and then tucking the stick under his arm, followed him from the room.
Camden high street was a battleground. Bodies were already littering the street, victims of the ruthless massacre initiated by the Auton street performers. Some of the steelier nerved shoppers, mostly the younger men, had taken up whatever they could to try to fight back, not aware of the true extra-terrestrial nature of the Autons. People who had previously been holding placards, advertising the various shops along the high street had started to hit at the street performers with them, knocking them to the ground and using them to smash down onto them when it became apparent that they were not quite what they seemed.
There were now no cars driving down the street, those that had been had either crashed as their drivers were shot dead by the Autons or had been abandoned after it became impossible to drive any farther. There was already a large pile up of cars by Camden lock and fires were starting to blaze, encroaching on the market. Towards the other end, at the Camden Town underground station, unaware tube passengers emerged from the station into chaos. Those at the front turning and trying to return to the relative safety of the underground whilst those at the back, unaware of the carnage ahead kept pressing forwards.
Families were separated, as were groups of friends, in the crushing and suffocating crowd. Unable to move either forwards or back, the unfortunate people in the middle were crushed by the two surging crowds as trains still stopped deep below them disgorging ever more passengers. In the midst of the crowds, those who passed out were trampled by panicked people. Those noise levels of screams and shouts made it impossible to hear any coherent announcements of the Underground employees who were trying to direct the crowds to safety.
With the Autons primarily situated on the high street, crowds were managing to flood out of Camden Underground onto Kentish Town Road, currently untouched by the carnage, and already becoming a vast area of walking wounded and terrified shoppers who had escaped the massacre that was still raging mere meters away from them. Police were already marshalling people away down the street to safety, whilst trying to get to the chaos to do their job, themselves unaware of the terror and danger that awaited them, believing it to be a terrorist attack.
Already crowds were forming of people who wanted to know about the events that were taking place, as curious people tried to push forwards. Some were watching from windows in office blocks and higher buildings at the carnage around them, safe indoors. The Autons were staying around the Camden high street, near the lock and market. There were still many shoppers trapped in the streets, still falling victim to the Autons as they turned, firing at anything human that moved.
The chaos was reaching fever pitch when Sergeant Lovatt and a group of UNIT soldiers burst out into the mêlée. The sight greeting them was horrific; bodies were piling up by the dozen as the Autons indiscriminately shot into the crowd. Seeing the few people in the crowd fighting back, Lovatt immediately began to direct the troops to help them out. She had given strict instructions not to use their weapons unless it was absolutely unavoidable; they were meant to help save lives, not add to the death toll, which was mounting as each moment passed.
A movement out of the corner of her eye made Lovatt drop to the floor as the glass doors behind her exploded, showering her with razor sharp shards of glass. Throwing her arms up to cover her face just a little too late, Lovatt felt dozens of small cuts appear as the glass hit her face and arms. Looking over to where the Auton had fired from, Lovatt saw the almost comical sight of a nameless young punk with a placard bring it down with force on the street performer Autons head with such a force the thick wooden post the sign was attached to splintered in half. Silently, Lovatt nodded her thanks only for the punk to stagger forwards, smoke curling from his body as he crumpled to the ground.
Clambering to her feet, Lovatt drew the pistol out of the holster at her hip and fired three shots into the head of the Auton which had shot the boy down. Each bullet hit home in the plastic killers head knocking it back to the floor. The sound of the gun shots caused greater furore in the already panicked crowd. Chancing a glance down, Lovatt looked at the punk; he couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old. Her mouth forming into a thin grimace, she jumped down into the road and fought her way to the end of the road. The police were swiftly forming a cordon by where there was already quite a severe pile-up of cars.
Spotting an Inspector stood directing his officers; she fought her way over to him. “We need to get as many civilians out of this road as we can, immediately.” She shouted over the commotion.
“What the hell is happening?” He shouted back, stepping back to take in Lovatt in her uniform. “And who the hell are you?”
Quickly pulling her identity card from her pocket, Lovatt passed it to the policeman. “Sergeant Lovatt, UNIT,” she replied. “We have a serious incident happening down here and you need to pull everyone back immediately.”
“That may be rather hard, Sergeant,” the Inspector replied handing back the ID card. “We don’t have the manpower, not with all the people pouring in here from the Tube and other motorists.”
“I don’t care how we do it, just do it,” Lovatt replied, ducking as the car windscreen beside them shattered under the blast of an Auton weapon. “Otherwise there will be countless deaths. We’re fighting an alien force here.”
By now it was clear that the Autons were not human as they continued to get to their feet after repeatedly getting knocked to the floor under barrages of attacks by civilians with inflated bravado or under the odd hail of bullets from one of the UNIT troops. Lovatt didn’t care about any cover story now; it could be worked out after the event. Now she just wanted to save lives. The cry of a policeman nearby getting shot down reminded her of how dangerous the events were becoming.
Both Lovatt and the Inspector ducked down and turned round to see an Auton stood, its hand weapon seeking them out. It staggered under a hail of bullets and turned to face the bigger threat of the UNIT trooper behind it.
“Now can you see?” Lovatt shouted at the Inspector. “I need you to get these people out of here now, stop more coming into the area. Shut down the Tube, anything.”
His eyes wide at seeing an apparent human being survive being shot in the back, the Inspector rushed away, keeping his head down. Turning back to face the carnage behind her, Lovatt helped to direct the fleeing crowds from the corridor of death the Autons were laying down. She could see three of her men lying on the ground, adding to the numbers of the dead.
Cover was becoming harder to find, as more people were managing to escape to safety. The cries and screams still filled the air as people realised that relatives or loved ones were missing. Lovatt couldn’t allow her thoughts to wander, even as civilians clawed at her and tried to pull her away screaming. She had a job to do, and she would make sure that she did it; she was a member of UNIT, the last line of defence against the alien force that was attempting to take her world from her. So engrossed was she in her job that she didn’t realise she had tripped over a body until she found herself on the floor. Looking up, she saw an Auton dressed as a Persian juggler, its hand weapon training at her head. Closing her eyes, Lovatt awaited the end.
The street performer Autons were already positioned about London, Manchester, Birmingham, Liverpool, Sheffield and Newcastle and the mannequins were in shops around the country. Even all the facsimiles’ were in place, ready for his word of activation. Smiling to himself, the Master stood back briefly, his arms folded as he stared at the array of technology before him.
A sound at the door to the office made him turn. Andrea Rogers entered and came to stand just before the Master. The Master nodded and Andrea turned and took a seat before the main instrument panel and started to type at the keyboard. Taking a step forwards, the Master leant on the back of her chair and looked over her shoulder at the screen directly before him.
“Very well my dear, I think it’s time we sent the first activation signal.” He said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Yes Master,” Andrea replied.
Turning her chair slightly as the Master stood up straight; Andrea reached out to a large dial to the side of the terminal she was working at. Twisting it around a quarter of the way, she turned to look up at the Master. The Master reached into his jacket and withdrew a silver key. Stepping forwards, he inserted it into a small hole in the panel and twisted it. Leaving the key in its place, he depressed the small red button beside it.
Standing back and folding his arms, a smug smile spread across the Time Lord’s face as he nodded his head slightly. Leisurely, he blinked and turned to face Andrea. “Thank you my dear, you can go about your other tasks now,” he said soothingly.
“Are you sure?” She asked, getting to her feet and looking at the Master.
Smiling, the Master placed a hand on her cheek. “Yes, thank you my dear. I can manage fine here. You know what you have to do.”
Silently, Andrea turned and walked from the office, closing the door behind her. Without looking back, she walked down the metal gantry and down the metal stairs to the factory floor. Watching her depart, the Master turned and took the seat before the panel for himself. Reaching across, he flicked a small chrome switch and looked at the monitor sat above. It flickered to life, showing an image of the main entrance and car park.
“Now, Doctor,” he muttered to himself. “Where are you?” Sitting back in the chair, the Master allowed himself to chuckle.
*
Morris slammed the car door shut behind him as he climbed into the black car. Corporal Loding was already sat in the passenger seat, Private Blackwood sat in the rear. Starting the engine, Morris pulled the car out of the garage. He’d driven it out into the main street and was driving out of Camden when all hell broke loose.
The street performers that were lining the streets suddenly straightened up as one and started shooting into the crowds and at the cars. The rear windscreen of the car in front shattered in an explosion, showering the road and the windscreen of Morris’s staff car with crumbled glass. Swerving to avoid it, Morris found that the morning shoppers were now trying to escape the Autons that lined the roads, firing into the panicked crowds.
“What should we do, sir?” Loding asked, ducking as the passenger window exploded in a shower of glass.
“Keep going,” Morris replied, swerving again as a woman ran screaming into the road. “There’s nothing we can do here. Not the three of us. HQ will have to deal with it.”
Seeing a street performer step into the road ahead of him and level its hand weapon, Morris put his foot down and drove straight at it. The plastic killer hit the bonnet of the car and crashed into the windscreen, causing it to fracture into a spider web pattern. There was a loud clattering as the Auton rolled over the roof and fell into the road in a heap.
Unable to see out of the windscreen any more, Morris lashed forwards with a fist and the shattered glass exploded over both himself and Loding. Glancing back in his rear view mirror, he saw that the Auton was getting back to its feet and raising its arm again, firing after the car. Cutting in front of a car preparing to turn at a junction, Morris ignored the car horn, which was already adding to the cacophony of noise. Glancing back, he saw that the Auton had lost interest in the car and was turning back to the high street massacre.
As the street disappeared from sight, Morris glanced round at his passengers; both Loding and Blackwood were looking back as well, both unharmed. Morris wondered whether they both felt the huge pang of guilt that he felt at not being able to do anything to help the innocent civilians being shot dead in the street. He knew that if they’d stopped and started shooting at the Autons, there was the risk that they would hit innocents and the very strong chance that they would add to the dead.
Turning another corner, Morris saw there were still other street performers dotted about; living statues and mime artists. Strangely, these were still posing as performers. As they flashed by, Morris wondered why, whether something had prematurely caused those in the Camden high street to start killing or whether these were awaiting a secondary signal from the Master.
Gripping the wheel in determination, Morris hoped that the Doctor would come through sooner rather than later, and his following him there would only be a courtesy.
*
Lovatt and Bailey looked up when the door to the briefing room crashed open and a breathless Private burst in, crashing to attention. Bailey opened his mouth, before closing it and glancing to Lovatt who nodded subtly, allowing him to take the Privates comments.
“Well, what is it private?” Bailey asked, straightening up and pulling himself to his full height.
“Sorry to interrupt sir, sarg.” he said looking from both Bailey to Lovatt.
“Come on, spit it out man,” Bailey snapped.
“Well, erm, the street performers outside have started attacking civilians, shoppers and the like.” The Private said, looking very uncomfortable.
Bailey’s eyes widened as he turned to Lovatt. “Autons,” she breathed.
“Well?” Bailey turned back to the private. “Are they these Auton things?”
The private nodded solemnly. “All initial reports suggest they are.” He confirmed. “Seems they all kicked off after Captain Morris left. We haven’t got many lads left to deal with ‘em.”
“Well, we’ll have to send what you do have,” Bailey said. “First thing we have to do is to protect the innocent and the public. Will you see to that Sergeant?” He asked, turning to Lovatt. “I’ll get in touch with my HQ and the police; get their support and then I’ll be with you on the ground.”
Swallowing, remembering her previous encounter with the Autons the night before, Lovatt nodded and ushered the private from the room. Watching them go, Bailey turned to Ashfield who had stood silently observing the brief conversation.
“I think it’d be best if you stay here out of the way, sir.” He said, grabbing his peaked cap from the table and heading to the door.
“I think it would be best if I were to return to somewhere where I could do more good.” Ashfield replied.
“With all due respect, sir,” Bailey said turning to face Sir Daniel as he pulled his cap into position on his head, “I think it would be wise if you were to stay within the confines of this building. It’s liable to be too dangerous outside for you and any other civilian until we can get a lid on this situation. If you want to get in touch with people on the outside, it’d probably be best if you were in the operations room. There’s more than enough communication equipment there, and it’s one of the safest places inside the building from the main street.”
“If you think that’s best?” Ashfield said, quietly.
“I do indeed, sir,” Bailey said, indicating to the door with his swagger stick, “now, after you sir.” Tapping his swagger stick against his leg, Bailey watched Ashfield walk from the room, and then tucking the stick under his arm, followed him from the room.
*
Camden high street was a battleground. Bodies were already littering the street, victims of the ruthless massacre initiated by the Auton street performers. Some of the steelier nerved shoppers, mostly the younger men, had taken up whatever they could to try to fight back, not aware of the true extra-terrestrial nature of the Autons. People who had previously been holding placards, advertising the various shops along the high street had started to hit at the street performers with them, knocking them to the ground and using them to smash down onto them when it became apparent that they were not quite what they seemed.
There were now no cars driving down the street, those that had been had either crashed as their drivers were shot dead by the Autons or had been abandoned after it became impossible to drive any farther. There was already a large pile up of cars by Camden lock and fires were starting to blaze, encroaching on the market. Towards the other end, at the Camden Town underground station, unaware tube passengers emerged from the station into chaos. Those at the front turning and trying to return to the relative safety of the underground whilst those at the back, unaware of the carnage ahead kept pressing forwards.
Families were separated, as were groups of friends, in the crushing and suffocating crowd. Unable to move either forwards or back, the unfortunate people in the middle were crushed by the two surging crowds as trains still stopped deep below them disgorging ever more passengers. In the midst of the crowds, those who passed out were trampled by panicked people. Those noise levels of screams and shouts made it impossible to hear any coherent announcements of the Underground employees who were trying to direct the crowds to safety.
With the Autons primarily situated on the high street, crowds were managing to flood out of Camden Underground onto Kentish Town Road, currently untouched by the carnage, and already becoming a vast area of walking wounded and terrified shoppers who had escaped the massacre that was still raging mere meters away from them. Police were already marshalling people away down the street to safety, whilst trying to get to the chaos to do their job, themselves unaware of the terror and danger that awaited them, believing it to be a terrorist attack.
Already crowds were forming of people who wanted to know about the events that were taking place, as curious people tried to push forwards. Some were watching from windows in office blocks and higher buildings at the carnage around them, safe indoors. The Autons were staying around the Camden high street, near the lock and market. There were still many shoppers trapped in the streets, still falling victim to the Autons as they turned, firing at anything human that moved.
The chaos was reaching fever pitch when Sergeant Lovatt and a group of UNIT soldiers burst out into the mêlée. The sight greeting them was horrific; bodies were piling up by the dozen as the Autons indiscriminately shot into the crowd. Seeing the few people in the crowd fighting back, Lovatt immediately began to direct the troops to help them out. She had given strict instructions not to use their weapons unless it was absolutely unavoidable; they were meant to help save lives, not add to the death toll, which was mounting as each moment passed.
A movement out of the corner of her eye made Lovatt drop to the floor as the glass doors behind her exploded, showering her with razor sharp shards of glass. Throwing her arms up to cover her face just a little too late, Lovatt felt dozens of small cuts appear as the glass hit her face and arms. Looking over to where the Auton had fired from, Lovatt saw the almost comical sight of a nameless young punk with a placard bring it down with force on the street performer Autons head with such a force the thick wooden post the sign was attached to splintered in half. Silently, Lovatt nodded her thanks only for the punk to stagger forwards, smoke curling from his body as he crumpled to the ground.
Clambering to her feet, Lovatt drew the pistol out of the holster at her hip and fired three shots into the head of the Auton which had shot the boy down. Each bullet hit home in the plastic killers head knocking it back to the floor. The sound of the gun shots caused greater furore in the already panicked crowd. Chancing a glance down, Lovatt looked at the punk; he couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old. Her mouth forming into a thin grimace, she jumped down into the road and fought her way to the end of the road. The police were swiftly forming a cordon by where there was already quite a severe pile-up of cars.
Spotting an Inspector stood directing his officers; she fought her way over to him. “We need to get as many civilians out of this road as we can, immediately.” She shouted over the commotion.
“What the hell is happening?” He shouted back, stepping back to take in Lovatt in her uniform. “And who the hell are you?”
Quickly pulling her identity card from her pocket, Lovatt passed it to the policeman. “Sergeant Lovatt, UNIT,” she replied. “We have a serious incident happening down here and you need to pull everyone back immediately.”
“That may be rather hard, Sergeant,” the Inspector replied handing back the ID card. “We don’t have the manpower, not with all the people pouring in here from the Tube and other motorists.”
“I don’t care how we do it, just do it,” Lovatt replied, ducking as the car windscreen beside them shattered under the blast of an Auton weapon. “Otherwise there will be countless deaths. We’re fighting an alien force here.”
By now it was clear that the Autons were not human as they continued to get to their feet after repeatedly getting knocked to the floor under barrages of attacks by civilians with inflated bravado or under the odd hail of bullets from one of the UNIT troops. Lovatt didn’t care about any cover story now; it could be worked out after the event. Now she just wanted to save lives. The cry of a policeman nearby getting shot down reminded her of how dangerous the events were becoming.
Both Lovatt and the Inspector ducked down and turned round to see an Auton stood, its hand weapon seeking them out. It staggered under a hail of bullets and turned to face the bigger threat of the UNIT trooper behind it.
“Now can you see?” Lovatt shouted at the Inspector. “I need you to get these people out of here now, stop more coming into the area. Shut down the Tube, anything.”
His eyes wide at seeing an apparent human being survive being shot in the back, the Inspector rushed away, keeping his head down. Turning back to face the carnage behind her, Lovatt helped to direct the fleeing crowds from the corridor of death the Autons were laying down. She could see three of her men lying on the ground, adding to the numbers of the dead.
Cover was becoming harder to find, as more people were managing to escape to safety. The cries and screams still filled the air as people realised that relatives or loved ones were missing. Lovatt couldn’t allow her thoughts to wander, even as civilians clawed at her and tried to pull her away screaming. She had a job to do, and she would make sure that she did it; she was a member of UNIT, the last line of defence against the alien force that was attempting to take her world from her. So engrossed was she in her job that she didn’t realise she had tripped over a body until she found herself on the floor. Looking up, she saw an Auton dressed as a Persian juggler, its hand weapon training at her head. Closing her eyes, Lovatt awaited the end.