A Servant to Time and Consequence (rude_not_ginger) wrote,
A Servant to Time and Consequence

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theatrical_muse: Discuss someone who has scared you.

AKA: Crack!Fic is Crack.

"It's really not my fault," the Doctor says. "I mean really, really not my fault."

Considering the looks of terrified glee on the faces of the cameramen, reporters, and gawking onlookers, the Doctor thinks that they're not going to believe him. More likely than not they're going to believe this obnoxious oaf of a man who is supposedly a witness blathering on a tale of how he did it. Also, these handcuffs are really too tight.

Oh, look, there's Donna. Fat lot of good she was. How long ago was the nick of time that she was supposed to arrive here at? Oh, right, like twenty minutes ago.

"What happened?" she barks.

"I didn't do it!" the Doctor says, quickly. "The Doctor did."

"What?" The way Donna's face screws up, she could almost imagine she was channeling him.

"The Doctor did it," the witness agrees.

"No I didn't," the Doctor barks back. "The Doctor did it! I would never do this!"

"What?" Donna snorts. "Doctor, did you or did you not do this?"

"Of course I wouldn't!"

"The Doctor did it!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Are you two just talking rubbish?"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Then who bloody did it?"

This is all getting rather ridiculous and, more importantly, is starting to develop a very definite beat. It's only a matter of time now until---

The witness breaks into song. "It was Doctor Hoooooooooooooooooooorrible!"

Really, this is not the worst part of the day.


Really, the worst part starts when the Doctor decides to check his UNIT mailbox. It's been a good twenty years since he's been in UNIT, so he's accumulated quite a stack of letters. By "quite a stack" there are actually three boxes in the UNIT holding room for him. And by "boxes" they were actually large cases labeled according to year. And by the time he gets to 2008, Donna's already fallen asleep on the desk and his fingers are cramped from unfolding and trashing various pieces of paper.


"Go away, sleeping."

"Donna, I'm almost done."

"You said that when you started. And then again every five minutes afterwards. How many more letters is 'almost done'?"


Donna's head slowly rises and she looks really put out by this whole letter opening situation. "Two, huh? Fine, open 'em up Spaceman. You promised me this beach with intelligent sand and right now I've had it up to here with the written word so come on." When she sits up, he can see there's a strange imprint in the side of her cheek that looks surprisingly like---

"Have you been sleeping on the letter opener?" The Doctor gapes. "Donna, I've been looking for that---"

"Is that what that thing is?"

After a chortled grumble that really could be anything but sounds an awful lot like 'bloody ginger women', the Doctor prepares to tear into his next letter. "This is interesting."

"What is it?" Donna asks, cracking her neck. She doesn't seem interested, but it's enough to keep the Doctor going.

"It's from the Evil League of Evil."

"Ha. No really, what is it?"

"It's from the Evil League of Evil." He holds up the letter with the big BAD HORSE silver stamp on it. "Funny, haven't received anything from them in…oh, just short of a few centuries now."

"There's an Evil League of Evil. As opposed to the Good League of Evil?" Donna crosses her arms.

"Yep. The Evil League has a better afterparty, if I remember correctly." He pointedly reaches across the table to take the letter opener to slice the side open. "The Master joined this group back when he was running for Prime Minister, I heard. Something about corporate funding…"

He slips the paper out and takes a look at the oddly blank page.

"We regret to inform you
The loss of one of the best
The Master of our order
Was shot in the chest!

And as you are his contact
In case of emergency
This letter we present to you
With his BAD HORSE Key

Inside the Evil League of Evil
Still sits his locking chest of plans
In thirty days we'll open it
And use them to our own demands!

So hurry quickly, Doctor
And take it from us by force

Survive the traps
Good luck of course
See you swiftly
Signed, BAD HORSE!"

Well, that is a development.



"A bunch of cowboys just showed up behind you and started singing."


"You didn't hear them? They were right there!"

"Well, I thought it was one of those Hallmark musical letters."

"They all had pints of beer!"

"Drinking on the job; Bad Horse isn't going to like that."



"So you're telling me that Harold Saxon was an evil Time Lord?" Donna asks, fidgeting next to him while they wait at a bus stand. The parking at the Evil League of Evil isn't great unless you're a member, so they don't want to risk Donna's car getting towed.

"Yep." The Doctor sniffs the air. Nope, no bus anywhere near them. They've only got another six hours until the time on the Bad Horse letter expires and whatever plans the Master had are used by his mostly-human baddie counterparts.

Donna rocks on the balls of her feet. "If this 'Master' is---"


"---your mortal enemy, why'd he put you down as emergency contact?"

The Doctor tugs on his ear and considers this. "It's not the first time. I imagine that he just needed someone with a legitimate phone number and at that point in his life he'd already killed everyone else he knew."

"Sounds like a great bloke."

"He was, for a while."

Donna snorts. "So, was he the crazy ex or were you?"

To the Doctor's relief, a bus turns the corner and they hop on. It's practically empty, probably because the neighborhood they're in is far from good. Donna scoots a little closer to the Doctor and bounces a bit in her seat.

"I can't believe we're going to a real league of supervillians," she whispers excitedly.


"This happens to you often?"

"Not lately."

"Well, I think it's just…!" she bounces in that excited way that means she has no idea what the word is. "It's just…!" She stops and stares at him. "You know this is going to be really dangerous, considering you're all superhero like and such."

The Doctor sighs. "Oh, Donna. I'm not a real superhero."

"You're not?"

"Course not." Beat. "Never paid my membership fees. And all those bloody union meetings…"

The bus comes to a stop near where they need to get off so the Doctor heads out and walks around the back. It's a fairly industrial area and he's a little surprised that the Evil League of Evil has lowered themselves to this sort of a place.

"The parking?" Donna suggests. "Or maybe the parties get a bit too wild."

The Doctor pulls out his sonic screwdriver and begins manipulating the molecules in the back door lock. "More likely it's the latter."

"What do League of Ultimate Baddest Evil parties do?" Donna asks absently, looking unimpressed with his door-manipulations.

"Wouldn't know considering my dealings with supervillians are in the Evil League of Evil and not the League of Ultimate Baddest Evil," the Doctor replies quite seriously. "But if you think about it, considering the acronym for their name? I can't imagine anyone short of Jack Harkness would be impressed.

Donna looks perplexed for a moment and starts spelling out letters. After a moment, her eyes get wide and she slaps the Doctor on the arm.

"Ow! What did you do that for!?"

"That's gross."

"It's not my acronym."

A few moments of bickering later, and they're in the bowels of the Evil League of Evil, narrowly escaping tripped wires and avoiding security cameras. The Doctor looks very like he's enjoying this. Donna, not so much.

"So why's he called Bad Horse?" she asks.

"I imagine he's probably a horse."

"Like a real horse?"


"Or maybe only half horse? Like the great-great-great grandchild of Catherine the Great?"

"Now who's gross?"

"Just asking!"

"I have no idea. Don't step there."

Donna, naturally, doesn't listen and the next thing they know an alarm's gone off and they're surrounded by supervillians.

The Pink Pummeler!

"Blimey, I think Kisha's baby sister had more manly gloves than that."

"Gloves of aluminum, they say."

"Not steel?"

"I imagine he can't afford it."

The Purple Pimp

"I guess your special powers are backhanding and tragic fashion sense?"

"Very like you, Donna."



"So, what exactly do you do?"

Moist scratches his sweaty underarms. "I make stuff wet."

"Don't you dare come near me, wet-boy."

Doctor Horrible!

Dr. Horrible steps up and gives one long, maniacal laugh. "Muwahahahahahahahaahaha!"

The Doctor sighs. "Yes, yes, very impressive."

"I was intimidated," Donna agrees, flatly.

"I felt a chill."

"Right down to my toes, yep."

The Doctor stuffs his hands in his pockets and regards this 'Dr. Horrible'. "You didn't happen to study maniacal laughter under Vorschdart, did you?"

Dr. Horrible looks, surprisingly, taken aback. "I did! How did you know?"

The Doctor shrugs. "I took a few classes with him, too." He clears his throat and lets out his own maniacal laugh. "Muuuuuuwahahahahahahaha!"

The Pink Pummeller and the Purple Pimp take a step back. Moist cowers in fear. Donna looks really, really confused.

"You studied maniacal laughter?"

"Well, know your enemy. That, and I've got this persona that pops out in between my 12th and 13th regeneration…"

"He laughs maniacally?"

"Beautifully. Heard him and knew I'd have to get lessons."

"If we can stop this chitter chatter Mr. and Mrs. Doctor," Dr. Horrible raises a gloved hand to silence them.

"We're not married."

"Really, seriously not married."

"Moist, PP---no, not you, him---take them to Bad Horse."

That's the point where they break into song.

Dr. Horrible begins, "So you think that you've intercepted
The League where we let Evil reign
But now that you've entered our harbor
You're sailing to a whole world of pain.

The Doctor and Donna turn and stare at each other for a moment. No, both awake. There's odd and then there's odd and then there's singing supervillians.

But Dr. Horrible continues, "We're hardened and vicious and aching
Let's say we're not in for the bliss.

Donna spoke---strangely in tune---next, "Doctor, um, they're singing."

"Yes, Donna, I'd noticed." Also in tune.

The Purple Pimp cozied up to Donna. "We're brutal in our torture methods
So let's say you don't want to try it.

"Try what? What's he saying---"

"Donna, would you please be quiet?

Dr. Horrible let out another laugh. "You're about to meet your doom your---"

The music stops as if someone has smacked a hand on a vinyl. A tiny, tinny voice squeals from behind Dr. Horrible. "Moosey doom!" A very small robot sticks its head out from behind his legs.

Dr. Horrible sighs. "No, let me just start that over."

"Moosey doom!"

"Be silent!" For such a skinny man, Dr. Horrible's voice is amazingly strong.

"I don't wanna!" Beat. "Okay."

Dr. Horrible clears his throat. "Okay." The music begins to crescendo…"And then your----"

The Doctor raises a hand, "I don't mean to rudely interrupt, but do you all always break into song?"

"Always," the Pink Pummeler says emphatically, nodding his grotesquely large head.


"Everyone," Moist agrees with a nod.

Any torture this lot might inflict on the Doctor will never wipe away the grin that appears on his face. "The Master was singing. Please tell me someone got this on video."

The Purple Pimp points at Dr. Horrible. "He's got a camera. I've seen his blog."

"That is private," Dr. Horrible's face turns about six shades of red.

Donna suddenly bounces up and points in Dr. Horrible's direction. "I've seen you! You're billybuddy82, right? I've got a subscription to you!"

The Doctor blinks at Donna. "A what?"

"What? The TARDIS has a faster connection than the one at my Mum's."

"You watch youtube in the TARDIS?"


"That feels…blasphemous."

"Right, cos the TARDIS is so beyond youtube."

"It is!"

Donna crosses her arms. "Not like it matters. It was all fun before, all freeze rays and this weird love triangle thing. Now all he does is mope over what's-her-name and talk about the destructo-button."


"Supposed to destroy all life in the city or something."

Moist looks suddenly nervous. "What destructo-button?"

"Yeah," the Purple Pimp waves his pimp cane in Dr. Horrible's direction. "What destructo-button?

Dr. Horrible scowls then reaches into his red coat to pull out a large red button. "This destructo-button!" It looks fairly harmless, except for the glowing aura of evil which is quite spectacular, especially coming from something as simple as a button.

The Doctor's eyes go wide. "Great big threatening destructo-button."

"With it I will take over the Evil League of Evil and rule the world as I should! As Penny would've wanted!"

"That's her name! Blimey, you'd think a name that simple I'd remember." Donna shakes her head.

"That's a really nice button."

"Doctor, you're fixating."

"I really think it needs to be---"

"You don't want to press that."

"---I mean, if it were pressed, it might be happier."

And Dr. Horrible breaks into song again. "A Doctor just like me you say?
Would it be you who wants to save the day?
Take this button of destruction away?
Will you do it before I may---

Which is when the Doctor loses control and grabs the button. He grins with all the maniacal evil of a five year old with a toy and presses it.

"No!" Dr. Horrible cries out. "No! It's not ready yet! It has to prime!"

There's a rumbling of the ground. A painful, sharp crack as antlers rise up, breaking through the concrete of the ground.

Donna gapes. "No. Way."

And cue the little robot again. "Moosey doom!"

"Yes, it's Moosey Doom," Dr. Horrible says, clearly miserable. He attempts a laugh, but it comes out flat. He slumps away, defeated yet again.

The Doctor, however, shakes off the spell caused by the button and leaps to his feet. "Donna, what happened?" He looks around. "Donna?"

But Donna Noble has already made a run for the door, behind the supervillians. A block of ceiling drops down and the Doctor finds himself surrounded by mooses—meece?—and without a way out.

That is, of course, when he hears it. A deep, dark, sinful-sounding neiiiiiiiiiiigh!

Bad Horse!
Bad Horse!
He rides across the nation
A thoroughbred of sin!
He sees this horrid situation
That you've landed in!
It's about time you escaped
So on his back you go
To run full force
To freedom of course
So ride you fool
Upon Bad Horse!

And, really, how is the Doctor supposed to say no to that?

So, onto the back of the most evil steed in all of history! Bad Horse leaps over the fallen debris and deftly maneuvers around the moose—mooses—meeses as they scamper off to create whatever hellish doom they've been summoned for.

To freedom! To safety! To…waiting police cars?

"Bad Horse, this is not where we need to be!" The Doctor tries to give the steed a tug on his mane, but the horse rears up, tossing the Time Lord into the arms of waiting officers.

"Good job, officer Horse!" one of the cops says, slapping the stallion on its rear. The horse whinnies gratefully, then turns and gallops away before the cameramen can make it over.

"That's the bravest undercover horse I've ever seen," one of the detectives enthuses.

The Doctor gapes. "What?"

Another detective arrives, pulling the Purple Pimp along with him. "I'll do anything!" the Pimp cries. "Just don't lock me away! I'll confess! I'll confess!" He thrusts a finger in the Doctor's direction. "It was him!"


The detective holding the Doctor throws a pair of handcuffs on him. "And just who would you be?"

"I'm the Doctor!"

"Dr. Horrible??"

"No, just the Doctor." He sighs. "Really. I'm…really just the Doctor."

And, really, he's had stranger days.

He can't think of when.

But he's sure he has.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 2,706
Yeah I don't know why Gir's there either.
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