Perfection:- Episode One

[Oldmankrondas]

PERFECTION
EPISODE ONE
By Mark Donaldson

All he had to do was keep running. If he could make it out on the road, he’d be okay; they wouldn’t dare expose themselves by running on to a busy roadway. Weighed down by the wires and plating attached to his body, he kept slowing down, exhaustion kicking in. He stumbled over a rock in the middle of the pathway, and went crashing head first on to the damp ground underneath him. Breathing heavily, he struggled on to his knees, he knew now that he wouldn’t make it to the roadway. He looked up at his pursuers and smirked. A sudden burst of energy hit him across the chest, he felt his insides disintegrate and saw everything go black.

*

‘Five minutes Mr Dawson!’ the fresh-faced runner called as he slipped his head round the dressing room of door of Dave Dawson, Britain’s latest household name. Dawson waved a reply, too deep in thought to engage the young man in conversation. He collected his thoughts and shut the drawer in his dressing table that lay open at his leg. He patted down his freshly tailored suit, glanced at himself in the mirror, turned on his heel and headed to the stage.

*

Todd hadn’t regretted his decision to stay on in the TARDIS; he had really only needed time to trust the Doctor once more. And now that they were closer than ever, travelling in the TARDIS was fun once more. ‘So come on then Doctor, where are we off to this time? Whistle-Stop tour of the Seven Wonders of the World? The planet of unicorns?’

The Doctor glanced up, his cravat loosened, his frock coat hung over one of the chairs in the corner of the TARDIS control room. ‘Hmm?’

‘Where are we headed?’ Todd asked, the excitement clearly present in his voice.

‘Earth…I think…’ the Doctor replied, eyes once more focused on the many monitors, buttons, dials and switches on the TARDIS console.

‘Oh…’ Todd replied, feeling suddenly deflated.

The Doctor slapped his palms off the console and looked up, triumphant. ‘Earth, 2005! Wonderful time to be back really…’

Todd slumped into one of the chairs. ‘Marvellous! Any particular reason for that year?’

‘That’s where the signal ends its transmission!’ The Doctor replied, pulling on a lever, setting the TARDIS on its course.

‘Signal?’ Todd inquired.

‘Yes, a short while ago I picked up a signal requesting assistance, the ship was going down fast, and they were signalling to the rest of the fleet, only they never replied!’ The Doctor said, walking forward, placing a hand on Todd’s shoulder, leaning him forward in the chair so he could get his frock coat. He pulled it on, and continued his story; ‘Of course there’s every chance the crew of the ship are dead, but we can’t take that chance! So what do you say Todd? Fancy a bit of a rescue mission and history lesson rolled into one?’

Todd suddenly smiled. ‘Always!’
‘Hello and welcome to another edition of “Make Me Perfect!” the show where we offer one lucky contestant the chance to be made over into an image of perfection! Todays contestants are three women who each have parts of their bodies they would love to change, but they can’t afford it, so please welcome them as they ask us to…’

The audience joined in at this point; ‘Make me perfect!’ they cried in near perfect unison.

Dave Dawson rewarded the audience with a winning smile and beckoned to the sliding doors behind him as three women walked down a set of glittery steps on to the stage. As the audience clapped, there was one woman sitting in the centre of it all, arms firmly folded, for tonight it was her intention to discover the answer to a question she had long been asking. She sat back, arms still folded, awaiting the end of filming.

*

‘I’m sorry sir you aren’t allowed past here!’ the young police constable ventured as a man in a long, ankle-length brown trench coat and charcoal coloured suit stepped over the police tape towards the large white tent erected in the middle of the woods. The man turned around, eyed the constable up and down and reached into his pocket, producing an I.D badge. The constable checked it, a look of surprise suddenly breaking out across his face. The man smiled, and swept into the tent.

The three men assembled round the body all looked to him as he entered. ‘Who the bloody hell are you? Who let you in?’

‘I’m Captain Andrew Baxter, UNIT.’ He replied, walking towards the body. ‘We’ll be taking over this investigation now.’

‘Now you hold on just one minute here…’ Roared the gruff, overweight, greying man in a pinstripe suit.

‘I’m sorry Detective Superintendent, but the very nature of this mans injuries indicate that this is an investigation more suited to our, ah-hem, talents than those of the metropolitan police force.’ Baxter cut in, whilst glancing over the body, noting the wires and plating attached to various parts of the body. ‘Of course…’ he began, looking up from the body. ‘…if there is a problem, don’t hesitate to contact my immediate boss; General Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to explain to you why this is entirely in your best interests.’ Baxter said with a smile, looking back down at the body and examining markings on the metal plating.
The Detective Superintendent made as if he was going to reply, but thought better of it and ushered the other detective out of the room.
Baxter looked to the Scene of Crime Officer. ‘What are your first thoughts?’ asked Baxter.

The man in the white overalls, still bewildered by Baxters appearance in his scene of crime stammered a little bit before replying; ‘The poor fellow has obviously been victim to some horrendous form of experimentation…the loss of blood and shock of the addition of these devices to his body would be my immediate cause of death…however, if you look at the chest there’s a…’

‘…plasma burn.’ Baxter added. ‘Okay, thank you, our own pathologists will deal with this from hereon in.’

The SOCO nodded, and exited the tent, Baxter reached into his trench coat pocket and produced his phone.

*

Not too far away from the centre of the woods, a wheezing, groaning sound filled the air, and a blue box gradually faded into view under the protective roof of the branches of the many trees that lined the woods. A few minutes later, the doors opened and a young man in a black short sleeved shirt and jeans stepped out, followed by a middle aged man dressed in a long green frock coat, waistcoat, cravat and trousers, he had a small grey box in his hand. ‘Hmm…this seems about right. Now if I can pinpoint any sort of alien technology operating in the area…’

‘And is that what the box does? Scan for alien tech?’ the young man asked.

‘Something like that yes…’ replied the other man, pushing through low hanging branches, crunching over twigs. ‘…Yes yes yes!’

‘Found something?’ the young man asked, hurrying to catch up.

‘Think so, come on!’ he replied, rushing through branches and crunching twigs underfoot as he made for a opening in the woods.

The man who had been watching them also made for the opening, his hand resting on the gun in his pocket.

*

She waited at the studio exit, her plan fully fledged in her mind. She would take Dawson into his limo, and get the truth out of him. The truth about what happened to her sister, the truth about the other disappearances related to the show. People coming back from their surgery acting exactly the same as always, wowing all their friends with their new looks before vanishing several days later. She had accepted that her sister had probably been murdered, and if that were the case, she would make Dawson pay. The door swung open, and Dawson, in a Barbour jacket and cap made for his limo. She moved behind him, producing a revolver and jamming it into his back. ‘Don’t say anything, and make no sudden movements, just get into your limo.’

Dawson nodded, and did as he was told, opening the limo door and clambering inside, she followed, closing the door behind her. She looked around the limo, Dawson was sitting, flanked by two heavy set men in black cloaks. She had heard rumours over Dawsons religion and thought nothing of it as she took a seat by the mini bar. ‘Now tell me something sweetheart, what is it that is so important, you have to kidnap a television celebrity?’

‘My name is Anna Clark, you know my sister; Jenny, quite well. She was a winning contestant on your show. And now she’s vanished, and from what I’ve read, she’s not the only one.’ Anna raised the revolver, levelling it at Dawsons head. ‘And you’re going to tell me everything about what happens to those that have been made perfect.’

Dawson chuckled. ‘Why, they achieve perfection…the purest form of perfection. Why don’t I give you an idea of what that means?’ He reached out, clicked his fingers, and the two bulky figures in cloaks tore them off, revealing huge silver figures, their facial features fixed on their silver faces. They both rose to their feet and reached out at Anna, grabbing her by the shoulders like vices. ‘And, don’t tell anyone this Anna, but you wont even need to win the opportunity to become perfect!’ He snapped his fingers and the limo sped out of the car park.

To Be Continued…