You wake up with a start upon hearing a screech and feel the old wire bed beneath you move several inches as the ground shakes. Dazed, you raise a pastel green hoof to your face, feeling for the beauty mask you’re wearing and slide it off with a light snap of the elastic. There’s another batch of tremors as your bedroom window is flooded with the violent orange light and crackling sounds of a nearby fire instead of the gentle evening light you were expecting. Coming to your senses you realise that this means that the oat field outside of your home must be on fire. In a panic, you roll out of the bed, landing on all four hooves.

Glancing out of the window as you practically tear off your night dress, you can see that the fire itself doesn’t appear to be especially intense; it looks to be a few feet away, but your view is obscured by the frame of the window. Fortunately the last few days have been rather wet, limiting the spread of the fire and restricting it to the cereal that had been directly hit by the source of the flames. As you make your way out of your room, through the kitchen and out the front door, you grab a bucket. As you run in a panic, you forget to fill it with water first.

Over the horizon, you can see a strange yet somewhat familiar polychromatic light spreading out in a wave around the aerial town of Cloudsdale, causing you to wonder for a brief moment whether the weather factory had exploded. There is another tremor and you feel warm air flow over you, causing you to remember that the field is still on fire. Realising that you had stupidly forgotten to collect water from the well, you run back to get some, before running back through the tall cereal crop and dumping the water over the slowly spreading fire. A few trips later and you’re able to assess the damage - thankfully only around a bale of your crop has been lost.

Looking into the trench at the end of the streak of destroyed plants, you see a blue box on its side, partially buried where it had finally struck the ground, the door open and with what looks like a trail of blood leading out of it. Following the trail, you can feel yourself becoming nauseous with anxiety as you cautiously walk around the box.

You find a bizarrely shaped creature lying on the ground, its crude anatomy reminding you of one of the pictures of great apes that your teacher showed you as a filly - although with remarkably pale skin and very little hair to speak of. The hair on it’s head is mixed with the poor thing’s blood and you can’t help but think that it’s very injured, if not dying or already dead considering the lack of movement. Feelings of both pity and fear cause you to feel sick again. You’re in no way medically trained or inclined, but you have to do something. You eventually choose to haul the thing onto your back and carry it back to your shack, hoping to at least wash and bandage the open wound on its head. As you near your shack, you can hear... it... making a gurgling noise and lay it down on the porch, wishing there was something you could do but accepting that wherever it may have come from, it’s time amongst the living is decidedly over.

You put a hoof against its face; the poor thing had slipped away without even saying anything. It must have been terrified and alone and you hadn’t even had the chance to tell it everything would be alright. Tears welling up, you look down at the awful sight below you; the thing looking so peaceful despite how long it must have taken to die.

Raising a hoof to its face once more, you slowly slide its eyelids closed, and straighten the white collar of its shirt, neatening the bow tie as best as you can considering your hooves - dainty as they are. You put a hoof on its hand and gently stroke it, openly crying now, seeing your tears pepper the frayed and burnt edges of its suit jacket. You decide that calling this creature “it” is a bit heartless and choose the name Bluebox based on where you found him. You rest your head on Bluebox’s chest, trying to pray with all of your might that Celestia may save his poor soul. Surely someone so well dressed would have to be sentient?

Saying the last few words of your prayer aloud, you feel something warm against your hoof and notice it is still resting on his hand. An almost intangible golden dust is beginning to flow from what seems like every exposed pore of his skin and even his hair, matted with blood, mud and a few of your own tail hairs from having carried him. Backing away instinctually, you’re unsure as to what will happen next.

Tears still streaming, you see his chest heave as a large cloud of the golden particles flow from between his lips and his entire form begins to burst with the shimmering dust and a sudden accompanying golden light. The dust begins to spray through holes of his clothing, directing the flow at first, before you begin to see his face soften. You leap away as the body convulses, the suit beginning to move as shapes form beneath it, eventually bursting, leaving the glowing dust starting to settle in a form similar to your own. You even see a tail sprout. You begin to recognise the structure of Bluebox’s new face, smiling that you’d guessed his gender correctly despite having no clue at what he was before this change. Edging closer, you see the young looking colt begin to produce less of the shimmering golden particles.

The dust fades away, the last of it being a wisp from between his lips, and you notice he’s now breathing and walk up to him. The anticipation forms a little knot of worry in your stomach. You get close enough to nudge him with your nose and feel him stir; you nudge him again, he doesn’t wake up - he’s just peacefully sleeping. Unsure what to do, you put him over your back again. He’s very light for a colt, his weight the same as it had been before he... exploded... and lay him in your bed. You pull your light summer blanket over him and let him sleep, retrieving another small mattress from under the bed before deciding to climb in with the rather attractive looking colt, rationalising that you’ll wake if his condition changes. Laying behind him, you put one of your forelegs over his shoulder, your face resting against his neck - a strangely warm, sweet scent entering your nose. You adjust your head and nuzzle the back of his head, recognising the smell of burnt sugar, close to the scent of marshmallows cooked over an open fire, or a caramel apple you sampled last time the adorable teenage colt from Sweet Apple Acres had last turned up trying to sell his family’s wares... Something-Macintosh was it?

Slowly it occurs to you that the circular rainbow must have had something to do with Bluebox’s appearance in your field and you climb out of bed again to go and look. It’s very close to night now and the light has all but dissipated. You softly clop back over to the bed and slide in behind Bluebox again, once more tucking your head over his shoulder and closing your eyes, wondering if when he wakes he’ll mind finding your legs wrapped around him.

Waking up in the morning, you find that Bluebox is still fast asleep. Cautiously, you slide out of the bed and drop a blanket on the mattress you had pulled from under it the night before to make it look like you had not just spent the night snuggling a stranger, and trot through to the kitchen. You prepare yourself a bowl of oatmeal, a second bowl on the counter for if Bluebox eventually wakes.

Looking outside, you see the remains of the suit Bluebox had been wearing when he changed and have a thought. Pulling a needle and thread from one drawer and scissors from another, you haul the mass of ruined fabric inside your shack. You manage to separate the bow-tie and collar of his shirt with a quick snip and fit some elastic that you had laying around to the bow-tie. Hearing the kettle whistling, you pour the oats into the saucepan of boiling water on the stove before turning back to your work, slipping the rescued collar around your neck and using the now slip-on bow tie to hold it in place.

You look at yourself in the mirror and giggle at how daft you look: your long straight brown mane covering half of your face, with the bow tie acting as the bottom of the frame around your features. You hear the fizzling of the oatmeal boiling over and look back before removing the tie and collar and placing them on top of the remains of the suit as you pull the brown mixture off of the hotplate. Fancying something a little different, you pull a plump red apple from the fruit bowl on the table behind you and dice it with a knife delicately held between your teeth. You stir the cubes of fruit into the oatmeal and return it to the heat for a couple of minutes to let the juice soak into the oats, enjoying the delicious scent before your curiosity takes over again.

You wander over to the table holding Bluebox’s things and hold out the tattered and torn jacket before you, noticing something about six inches long by half an inch thick sticking out of the top pocket. Nuzzling the cloth and trying to grip this object, your nose is again filled with Bluebox’s scent; you grip the tube but linger, enjoying the smell of this strange colt.

Eventually pulling back, you squint down at the object between your lips - it looks like a magic wand. From what you can see, it has a green gem at the end and only one button, far too small to manipulate using your hooves or lips without some challenge. You lay it on the table and use your nose to push the button. A momentary green light strikes your bowl of oatmeal as the object whirs, causing you to leap back in fright. Believing that nothing happened, you hold the button down with your nose a little longer, not seeing your bowl begin to sink into the wood of the table before it explodes, covering you in the apple scented goo, tiny fragments of earthenware bowl stuck in your mane.

You hear hooves hit wood before a loud thud erupts from your room. When nopony appears at the door, you decide to take a look; you see Bluebox collapsed almost comically on the floor, his back legs straddling his front ones, like a foal trying to walk for the first time. His tail flicks with annoyance, pulling the dark hair from in front of his gentle eyes. In a calm voice you ask if he’s alright, your body slowly appearing from behind the door as you walk over to him.

“Yeeeeah.” He slowly replies, removing his hooves from underneath him and looking at them quizzically before pawing at the brown mane above his eyes, pulling the flowing locks in front of his face. He gives a disappointed grunt and tries to stand up again, shaking on all four legs and looking somewhat annoyed about his current predicament.

“I’m a bit new to this.” He says, frowning gently at the look of confusion mixed with amusement on your face, managing a few shaky, awkward steps towards you, swaying slightly. Gaining more composure, he seems to get the hang of movement on four legs and wanders over to you. He snorts again, as if still trying to figure out his new body and licks your face, a tangy speck of oatmeal disappearing.

“Hmm. Apples, didn’t expect that,” he says, looking at you in a critical manner. You blush hotly and back away a little. He follows you into the kitchen, his attention grabbed the second he sees your mirror on the wall. He tries to trot over to it, still slightly unsteady on his hooves and looking like he’s falling into each step. He flips the hair from his eyes and sighs again.

“Still not ginger. Oh well.” You hear him say, shortly before his eyes grow wide with realisation. “I’M A HORSE!?” he yells, rearing and falling backwards into the table. The sudden addition of his weight causes it to flip onto its side, throwing the items on it over him; the fruit bowl now covers his eyes with one of his ears twitching from underneath it.

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” He asks, hidden from your vision by the table as you set about pouring the remaining oatmeal between two bowls, having replaced the broken one. You look back and reply, letting him know that you live all alone until harvest time and ask him what his name is.

As he gets back to his feet and completely ignores your tiny hint of an advance, Bluebox puts the table back as it was. He collects his things and places your apples back in the fruit bowl, before slipping the collar and tie around his own neck. He then admires himself in the mirror once more, making bizarre faces at himself. He sniffs a little more delicately this time and turns to you as you place the bowls of oatmeal on the table. Lifting it in his front hooves he raises the warm dish to his lips and drinks deeply. He puts the bowl down and looks into it before turning to you.

“Well, I like porridge, that’s good - aaaand the tangy bits, apples right? Love apples this time, always glad to know that!” he says, once more critically inspecting the contents of the bowl. You look at him intrigued: what is this pony going on about?

“New mouth, new rules. Imagine suddenly having every one of your favourite foods require you work out whether you even like them anymore,” he explains, seemingly reading your mind through your facial features.

“Last time I did this, I hated apples... and bacon come to think of it, do you have bacon?” Confused, you ask what bacon is, having never heard that term either.

“Of course, need to remember that I’m a horse, or am I a pony? I don’t feel tall enough to be a horse... Anyway, I imagine you’re all probably vegetarians.”

You nod, wondering what kind of pony would actually consider eating the flesh of other creatures, slightly disturbed that the creature Bluebox used to be may have been so barbaric. The thought peaks your interest and you ask why he looks different to how you found him.

“Ah. Yes. I should probably thank you for taking me in last night. I’m not human,” he replies. You stop and ask what a human is, yet another term you had never heard of. Bluebox raises an eyebrow. He speaks again, giving a basic description of a human. You shake your head and apologise - you’ve never heard of anything so exotic in Equestria, shuddering slightly at the thought of a barbaric carnivorous race within your nation’s borders.

“This... This isn’t right. Everywhere has humans. This must be why I regenerated to look like one of you,” he says, hoof on his chin, looking nowhere in general. You ask again what he means, and he explains that his people “Time Lords” are able to change their form at death, usually limited to a humanoid form however, and he had never heard of anyone regenerating into a pony, musing about what could have happened before his eyes widen again.

“Of course! Come along, follow me.” he says, before bolting through the door, half running, half staggering to the crash site of his blue box. You address him by the name you had given him, asking what he was doing, what he was talking about and why a large blue box was half buried in your field.

“Bluebox?” He says, slightly surprised, “I’m the Doctor, you can call me that for now,” he replies, checking the box for damage and paying you no real attention.

The Doctor raised a light brown hoof to his face and looked at it confusedly before tapping sharply on the side of the box. There was a creak as a door revealed itself on the top side, and he struggled to climb up onto it. There is a brief moment of clattering, sounding like hooves landing on steel before the Doctor’s head appears again, looking as if he had climbed out.

“Good, the gravity’s still on. Give me a minute, just going to park her properly and we’ll be able to take a look at what’s going on.”

“...her?”

You see the box momentarily fade away, fear once again causing you to back off as a slow almost wheezing sound comes from the box. It rematerialises a few moments later, stood on one end, with a light flashing at the top. You can read the words “Police Public Call Box” on a black bar just underneath the light before the doors open again.

“Come on in!” The Doctor calls. You obey out of sheer curiosity, staring at the suddenly huge space. You gasp as he leans on a railing,

“It’s... it’s...”

“Bigger on the inside, I know, space folding, etcetera etcetera. Anyway, I don’t suppose you know why I crashed?”

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about, how do I even know I can trust you?” you say, starting to suffer from culture shock. Panicking, you cower in the corner. The eruption of dust had unnerved you a little and his odd behaviour had almost put you off the idea of flirting with him, despite how lonely you were, but this was the last straw.

“Look, I can help you understand. I really need another mind in on this and as a local your help would be appreciated,” he says, bringing his head down to your level, those calm blue eyes staring into your soul. You shakily climb to your hooves and nod.

“Now, hold still. The last time I did this, it hurt a little, so I’m going to try a different way,” he says, before leaning in and forcing a kiss on you. You hadn’t been kissed like this in years, so much... passion, such technique! He’d obviously been a married colt before...

Suddenly, new memories began to flood your mind. Images of technical data and knowledge of exotic beings, some terrific to behold, flash infront of you;

Susan...
Skarro...
Sarah-Jane...
The TARDIS...
Gallifrey...
Rose...
River...
K9...
Davros...

There were flashes of steel coated “humans” staggering towards you, expressionless faces terrifying you beyond belief; you then begin to understand what you see as the memories form a relatively logical order; thoughts about how his face had changed over his close to one thousand years of life, countless peoples saved throughout space and time.

Regret.

Gallifrey in flames, the deaths of companions who had been so dear to him, memories of people who had been unwritten from time itself. This being before you, the one kissing you, had committed genocide, wiped entire species from the cosmos. You try to push your own mind, trying to force the flood of information away, but glimpses of it intrigue you into trying to learn more, one utterance from the final memory escaping your lips as you break away from him.
“Hello, Sweetie?” you repeat, slightly confused and looking into his eyes. A single tear escapes from his eye as he appears to reflect on what you have just said,

“What was that?” you ask, collecting yourself,

“It’s called tactile memory transfer. You’ve got close to one hundred years of my memories floating around in your head. It won’t last for very long, so we need to move. I need to know what you saw when I first arrived. My ship tells me that I hit something made of pure energy, as if a rift had been formed.”

You think for a few seconds before it occurs to you - that wave of light you had seen from the direction of Cloudsdale.

“A Sonic Rainboom! Doctor, it must have been. A story that my grandfather told me said that a Sonic Rainboom pushes through into the light of creation itself, the power and glory ebbing through with the pony performing it causing a tear in reality. I... I didn’t think of it at the time, but I guess it could make sense?”

“Hmm, a fracture in reality? That must be it indeed, you’re brilliant you are! Let me see if I can find the fracture, I might be able to get back home through there. Oh, I forgot to ask, when am I?”

“Uhm, June, 990CR.”

“CR?”

“Celestia’s reign, she’s our Princess, she created our land.”

“Riiight, that doesn’t help at all,” he replies, looking at a screen attached to a central console of the TARDIS. You see a diagram of a pony on it, a line flickering up and down, scanning. You hear the ring of a huge bell, the line stopping with a red blip on the tail of the diagram. The Doctor stares at his rump, which you notice carries a cutie mark in the shape of an hourglass, before fishing around amongst the deep brown hair of his tail, eventually finding a hair that was not the same colour. Bringing it in front of his face, he sniffs at it before trotting over and sniffing you too.

“Well, that’s that mystery solved! Looks like I picked up a little of your DNA when I regenerated... I didn’t even know I worked like that! Isn’t that awesome?”
Unsure how to reply, you simply nod.

The bell tolls again, showing an image of the Junior Flight Camp just outside Cloudsdale.

“Damn, it looks like I’m stuck here. The rift is closing too fast for me to get there in time and it looks like it’s a fixed event... I can’t just have another go,” he says, with a sigh, slight sorrow in his voice. The new memories, acting almost like some sort of encyclopaedia, explain what he means - an event locked in time and space after it’s occurrence. The memory also explains that the room around you is actually a cavernous half-sentient ship known as the Time And Relative Dimension In Space, or TARDIS for short; a time machine similar to the one in stories you had been read by your grandfather when you were a filly. The sudden recollection of this memory triggers a thought.

“Wait, this is a time machine isn’t it? My grandad once told me a story about a blue time machine, magic used by a pegasus pony...” you trail off, seeing the Doctor’s eyes widen.

“NO! STOP! Those are spoilers!” he says, quickly putting a hoof over your mouth. “That memory must be part of my future, as I know I’ve not done anything here aside of regenerate. I’m not even sure how, but I’ve managed to break through the Abstract Plane; everything is new here... and it’s really, really exciting!”

“Can I come with you? Be your assistant?” You ask, visualising memories of his adventurous, frantic life all over the cosmos. You see him freeze on the spot.

“I’m sorry, I’m really, really so sorry. I can’t take you,” he says, moving again to the doors of the craft. “You should know that I’ve lost people, good people, wonderful beautiful people. I need to be alone for a while.”

You stare at the grated floor for a moment or two, blinking away tears as the memories of his companions flicker up again. Understanding the issue, you walk over to the door.

“Will I ever see you again?”

“I don’t know. You’ll just have to wait and see. I’m sorry.”

You pull him by the bow-tie, kissing him slightly against his will, his foreleg moving awkwardly before settling on your shoulder. He pulls away, looking like he’s about to scold you.

“In all fairness, you kissed me first... and you didn’t ask either,” you say meekly, pushing at the blue door of the TARDIS. He stays silent as you leave, walking once again on the dirt between the tall plants. You’re sure you can see conflict in those eyes of his - those ancient, all seeing eyes.

He looks at you before closing the door, his stare cold and ageless. A being in deep deep pain, you wish you could be there for him as he slams the door shut, and the TARDIS once again fades away.

Trudging inside, you begin to openly weep. The sadness slowly boils into bitterness and anger as you take a pencil and some paper from a drawer in your kitchen. You begin to write down the memories he had given you, hoping to send them off to one of the newspapers available in the town nearby and potentially Celestia herself as a warning of this murderer.

The paper, spattered with your salty tears, is headed with three words; three words taken from a legend ringing in your head, from a species the heartless Time Lord had mercilessly destroyed on so many occasions.

The Oncoming Storm.

Hell hath no fury like a mare scorned.

You watch the door to your home close, leaving the mare who had helped you through your most painful and exhaustive regeneration yet, standing in the middle of her oat field. As you shakily step back to the console in the centre of the room, a pang of guilt strikes you, making you look down at the grated floor after you throw the lever causing your ship to depart.

You knew you couldn’t take her with you, especially after River; you missed her. She had been the one slightly psychotic yet marvellously intelligent woman, who for several miss-jointed periods of your life had been your lover, despite her violence, yet embracing her brilliance. The way that she had simply one day not recognised you, coming to the very first time she had met you, but the very last time you would meet her. You had watched the woman die in a past life, attached to a myriad of machines that would eventually save her into the databank of a computer, but you’d never get her back, never be able to hold her.

Watching the relationship from opposite ends of the time line made you both hurt. You knew you had no idea exactly how it had felt for River, but nothing in the thousand or so years of your life had ever hurt so much - not even the eleven regenerations you had endured so far matched up to it. The deep four-beat pattern of your hearts had caused such an ache that you had to clutch your chest in agony after your final meeting with her; which happened to be the first time she had met you. The remorse tied to your experiences with the woman was what had driven you into a suicidal curiosity in a rift torn in the light of creation, dropping you through the abstract plane and landing you in “Equestria”, injured to the point of being forced to regenerate once again. Your form had changed from something so familiar yet so different every time, into what felt like an abomination compared to your species’ proud heritage.

Maybe this change was what you needed? Maybe a fresh start could help you start living again? After all, your native universe didn’t really need Time-Lords anymore, so why not explore this new one, beyond the abstract plane?

Well, maybe we should start small at first. At least take a look at Equestria, learn a little more about it as a planet before going anywhere new. After all, it reminded you of a period in Earth’s history, still lush and green, but there was something else. The monitor in front of you showed a city made of cloud, how wonderful! This would have been a fascinating place to take River, wait, Sarah-Jane? No, Amy and Rory? Rose?

You’re pained once more, realising that you truly had nobody at the moment. You couldn’t possibly go back to the mare who had taken you in as you couldn’t even remember her name - a fact that made you feel ill. Pushing random buttons and levers, you hear the characteristic and soothing noise of the TARDIS’s engines propel you several years into the future, aiming for a large city at the base of a mountain, a castle built into the side of the mountain itself. You coo to the TARDIS as she finishes making the noise, stroking the console affectionately. Good old Sexy; she always got you to where you wanted to go, even if you didn’t realise it at first.

Pushing the door open, you find yourself strolling out into a dark and stormy night, rain and wind howling, you can see several shapes similar to your own darting around in the sky, dodging lightning flashes, playing like leaves in the wind. Looking in front of you, you find yourself in a large square area, decidedly a market place. This was good news, market place usually means some sort of civilisation and nothing too barbaric to cause you to spend most of this exploration running; especially whilst still a tiny bit uneasy on your new hooves.

Wandering around the deserted square, you see another pony (an off white stallion, with tied back close to black hair) trudging onwards, a violin case slung across his back and a determined glaze over his eyes as he forces himself towards his destination, completely un-deterred by the golden mare that lands badly next to him, almost pushing him over. You look at them for a second, he was obviously like you, a normal pony, but she had wings. WINGS!? You wish you had wings. She was almost ginger too, some people have all the luck.

Watching him rudely ignore her and carry on, she manages to pull herself into her own destination, a large glass fronted building offering what looked all manners of relaxation techniques - obviously a spa. You think about following her in when you see the assistant inside, a horn on his head glowing as a pad and pencil move over to him and become fairly certain that she’s got an appointment and probably doesn’t need her relaxation time interrupting. Maybe it’d be worth wandering around the city a little more, there has to be something more interesting going on?

When the pegasus and unicorn leave the reception area, you see a brief reflection of a tiny spark of fire in one of the windows and turn to see a windswept and thoroughly annoyed armoured stallion attempting to light a pipe, eventually blowing a ring of smoke into the wind as he stood in the doorway of one of the closed shops.

“That’s really bad for you, y’know,” you pipe up, over the sound of the rain hammering against the stallion’s helmet and nearby puddles.

“What are you? Some kind of doctor?” he responds, in a gruff voice,

“Actually, yes... well, sort of,”

“Go away mate. I’m stuck out here all night, let me enjoy my pipe.” he says, adjusting the cloak around him. Between the edges of the fabric wrapped around him, the word “Sergeant” is clearly seen on the star forming part of his chest plate.

“Oh... alright,” you eventually respond, looking from the white stallion to the ground, awkwardly shuffling your hooves forwards again.

Well. It certainly seemed that the new you wasn’t as much of a pony’s pony as your previous incarnations. As you turn to leave however, he catches sight of your flank, eyes glancing over the mark, an hourglass.

“YOU! STOP RIGHT THERE!” The sergeant screams, pipe dropping to the floor, hot ashes spilling from it and going dark as they hit the water on the cobbles.

You freeze on the spot, your fight-or-flight reflexes not quite as honed as they had been. Turning slowly back around, you see the officer raising manacles.

“It’s alright! I’ll come quietly!” you assure the stallion, who squinted at you before putting the manacles back.

“You’re coming with me, mate. We’ve been looking for you for a long time, you scum.”

“Uhm, I’m sorry, I’m a bit out of my depth, when am I?”

“Don’t talk, get moving, criminal,” He says, before pushing you forward roughly. The rain continued pounding down, ringing coming from the impact of the drops against his armour and helmet, despite the slight amount of protection his cloak gave him.

“Alright, alright, no need to be shirty!”

The sergeant follows you closely, giving you orders when to turn down different streets until you reach a small building. You’re shoved inside and a light is turned on. Inside the tiny room, there is a small cell, barely big enough for a pony, with a reptilian creature sat in a rocking chair, fast asleep. The sergeant clears his throat as he forces you into the cell, locking it and removing the key.

“Needles, wake up you lazy git. I’ve just caught that suspect, the one the lads up at the castle want.”

The creature groans, one huge red eye opening. He looks at your mark too, before leaping out of the chair and grabbing a quill and piece of parchment in one of his clawed hands. When it speaks, you realise that he can’t be much older than an adolescent, voice still breaking occasionally as he talks.

“Whoa! Where the hell did you find him?”

“He was just wandering around, outside that spa on Moonlight Square.”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt, “But I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done?”

“Ha!” the sergeant responds, addressing you from the other side of the bars, “You sick bastard, you know damn well what you’ve done. The city guard don’t appreciate killers. Especially ones with your M.O.”

The lizard finishes his frantic scrawling and rolls the parchment, before shooting a green flame from his mouth, incinerating it.

“Oh, a dragon? I’ve never met a dragon before! How does the flame work? Why did you just burn the message?” you ask, still more amused than worried about what was going on.

The two of them ignore you and you see the sergeant shoot you glances, not quite sure about you himself; the dragon goes back to sleep for a few minutes before he belches loudly, another flame escaping, with a scroll appearing at the end of the flames. Catching it before it hits the floor, the seal is broken by the dragon who holds it up for the sergeant to read. You see his eyes scan over the page and he cracks the dry smile of someone rather pleased with himself.

“Right, looks like we caught you just in time. They’ve just found your latest little trick. Looks like the higher-ups are intereste-” he is cut off by a smart rapping at the door, “That’ll be the wagon to take you to your new home.”

The sergeant opens the door to another armoured white pegasus stallion, who this time was wearing ornate silver armour, obviously of a far higher quality than that of his colleague. You hear the sergeant gasp as he recognises the newcomer, nudging the dragon who snaps to attention.

“Sir Duke, we weren’t expecting you sir.”

“You’re Sergeant Brassy Bridges, correct? Well done on recognising his mark in this weather, I’ve been sent to pick up the prisoner. Her Majesty wants me to take him to the latest crime scene.”

“Sir?” the sergeant asks,

“Don’t question my orders, sergeant.”

“Sorry, Commander. I’ll let him out.”

Brassy lets you out of the cell and back into the street next to the winged guardspony. For the moment the rain has subsided, but you can see the mane of the commanding officer blowing about in the wind and can feel your own moving as the wind blows through it. Giving you the same dirty glance he had done earlier, Brassy closes the door, and you can hear hushed muttering on the other side before Duke leads you away.

“So, Doctor, I must know, why do you never land inside the castle?”

“I’m sorry, have we met?” you ask. This question confuses the stallion slightly and he shuffles his wings uneasily as you walk, obviously not happy that he has to walk to your destination rather than fly.

“I guess not...” he responds, “I am Sir Duke of Canterlot. You’re going to ask me when and where you are, you’re in the city of Canterlot and the year is 1002CR. I’m guessing you’re a bit green?”

“Green?” you respond, looking confused,

“New. You look like you’re a little un-used to those hooves you’re walking on. You explained this to me the last time we saw each other. You said you weren’t a pony before you arrived on Equestria?”

“That’s... right, Sir Duke is it?”

“Just Duke to you, Doctor. I don’t like the title, and considering everything you’ve done for us, it’s a little redundant for me to outrank you.”

“Ugh. I do hate jolting around like this. My life is always so disjointed.”

“Ha, you’ll be saying that often here.”

“So, what is it you want me to see? Who is this Princess you mentioned?” you ask, still following Duke, the first few drops of rain beginning to fall once more.

He looks up and sighs, lacking the cloak that Brassy had. As the rain begins to fall faster, the pair of you break into a canter, entering what you can only imagine to be some sort of industrial district of the city. You stop in front of a boarded-up and derelict blacksmith’s shop, with a pair of guardsponies outside. One of them, a unicorn, was sat at the curb outside, staring into a washed out pool of what you realise is vomit, the other rubbing his companion’s back. The rubber salutes the pair of you, before apologising for his companion.

“Not a problem guardspony, I understand it’s a grizzly sight in there. A filly and a colt, am I correct?”

“Yes sir, young ones at that. The constable arrived first, I was on scene shortly after his first flare went up.”

“What is a member of the castle guard doing in this district?”

“I was on my way out for a drink, Commander. I was meeting a friend at the pub just down the street.”

“Well done for responding then. Any sign of a suspect this time? Or just the wall markings?”

“No, as for the markings, I didn’t want to stay in there for long sir, it’s a bloodbath. The investigation team are in there now.”

“Commander, is there any chance you could tell me whats going on?” you ask, glancing at the snapped tape covering the open door of the shop, now not bothered by the rain falling.

Duke explained that for several months now, a murderer had been plaguing the city. Always the most heinous of crimes, gory bloodbaths typically in empty buildings - occasionally involving children and often the sickest of sick acts.

That was what made something inside you snap.

Fuming, you storm into the building with Duke in tow. The scene before you is now well lit, several unicorns taking note of evidence, bodies still left un-covered as they followed standard operating procedure.

You saw the first child, a tiny blue unicorn, strapped to what looked like a vertical operating table. Slowly, you raise a hoof and close the filly’s eyes to avoid the stare, before looking down. She had been gutted, the poor child, her innards cruelly dumped in a bucket by whichever disgusting excuse for a life form had done this. You turn, looking for the other body and find the remains of a pegasus, partially de-winged on a horizontal table behind you. Rage seethed inside of you, flowing so freely and easily. A hoof is put on your shoulder and you snap around to an older looking, pale blue unicorn dressed in scrubs, with a pair of glasses perched on his nose.

“Commander Duke explained that you’re a little new here. My name is Avian, I’m the medical examiner. I could do with your help getting her down.” His voice is calm, but his eyes hold as much rage as is flowing through you at the moment.

“How many... How many now?” You manage to ask, the coppery tasting air hitting your lungs as you breathe in for what feels like the first time since entering the room.

“These two bring the total to twelve. We were sure we’d caught the pony doing this last time.”

“What happened?”

“We found DNA on one of the victims that tied to a known foalphile. He had even kept the satchel the poor kid was carrying as a prize. Sir Duke led the raid himself, beat the culprit to within an inch of his life, it took most of his squad to stop him killing the stallion. Unfortunately, even with the culprit in custody, the killings obviously haven’t stopped... Doctor, what is it?” Avian asked, looking at you. You had turned back to look at the victims, a theory turning itself in your head.

“I think they were friends.”

“How do you know?”

“Look at the position of the bodies, they’re facing each other. I’m willing to bet that their times of death are very close, to within a few minutes.”

Avian nods after consulting his notebook.

“He made them watch. He made them watch him torture each other. Something went wrong though, he was disturbed. He didn’t get as far with the pegasus as he did with her friend. What can you tell me about the third victim?” you ask, still deep in thought.

“Third victim?”

“Yes. The one on the wall over there.”

Avian gasps as you point at the far wall. There were skid marks indicating a fight, before the soot outline of a unicorn becomes obvious on the wall itself. One of Avian’s coworkers slowly and carefully walks over with a small trowel having seen something, and empties ashes into a clear plastic bag, before putting two charred horseshoes in another. A moment of revelation occurs to you.

“I’ve seen... something capable of doing that before... Commander, Avian, I think I may have found you another killer, the one who killed the murderer.”

Author’s Note: The story from now on will be in third person. Hope you all enjoy it! I’ll be modifying it as I read over once more tonight - if you see any glaring errors, please feel free to post them in the thread on Ponychan!

The group had moved away from the main scene of the crime into a room adjacent to where the murder had taken place. The sound of rain echoed on the cheap tin roof, still coming down hard and fast. A leak had formed near the corner of the room leaving, the cheap plaster on the walls sodden. Sniffing, the Doctor could still smell the blood from the other room, but mixed in with the smell of the rotting plaster giving it a more earthy scent. Looking between his companions, he couldn’t help but feel like he should avoid time travel for the rest of his time in Equestria; he couldn’t tell who was a new friend, who was an old friend, or even who could potentially one day, he thought, looking at the commander, become an enemy.

Something about the pegasus didn’t feel right. He noticed that whenever the pony turned to talk to him, it was always using his right eye. The Doctor could see the left one, it looked fine, moving with the other in perfect synchronisation... Something just felt odd.

“So let me get this straight, Doctor,” Duke said, breaking the silence “You think that somepony here has an ancient artifact from a dead race, capable of spying on anypony and is using it to clean the streets? Why not report the criminals, why kill them?”

“That, I don’t know.” The Doctor replied, “The problem with The Lens is that it requires a great deal of concentration to use, but more so to actually kill with it, and the user would have to be, well... I’m sorry to say this, but the user would have to be a Time Lord.”

“One of your people?”

“Yes. Part of me has a bad feeling that it might even be someone I know...”

“But if they can see what is happening, why not...”

Duke was interrupted by one of Avian’s coworkers, who had tapped him on the shoulder, a parcel between her lips. Duke glared, and the young mare backed away slightly, before flicking her eyes over to the Doctor, who raised a hoof and took the package. Tiny copperplate handwriting on the surface simply read “Doctor”, with a simplified drawing of the Doctor’s cutie mark underneath. Puzzled, the Doctor turned back to the assistant,

“Who gave you this?” he asked, paying attention to her expression. Slowly, seemingly somewhat disturbed, she explained that a blue stallion with a bright yellow mane had given it to her. He had then pointed at something behind her, and when she had turned back, he was gone.

“What do you think? A lead?” Avian asked, looking over his spectacles at the still wrapped parcel.

“Only one way we’ll find out, I guess.” The Doctor responded, keeping his eyes focused on the brown package whilst he awkwardly tried to open it.

“Allow me, it’ll be a tad easier,” Avian began, his horn glowing. The box raised and began to open, revealing a strange yet familiar instrument, similar to a wrist watch, yet elongated along one surface.

“Is that... Is that the lens?” Duke asked, staring at the device rotating in front of them.

He saw the Doctor’s face light up as he worked out what it was, and cracked a slight smile, guessing he had been right...

“That, my good commander,” The Doctor started, slipping a hoof through the hole of the device and tightening it, “Is a brand new sonic screwdriver. But I’m a little worried that you don’t recognise it...”

“I’ve seen you use something like that, but it wasn’t so similar to a watch... It was more like a pencil.”

“Which probably means that at some point, I break this. That’s an incredible shame... It’s marvellous!” he coos, lost in the wonder of his new toy.

The Doctor then raised the device in front of him, pressing the much larger and hoof friendly button with his nose, pointing it at the silhouette of a colt on the wall. Pulling away, he stares at the screwdriver, waiting for it to indicate results.

“Hmm, there are a lot of readings here that I don’t recognise, but I do see the energy signature of the Lens... and something else?”

He pressed the button again after adjusting the settings, causing specks of red light to appear on the wall holding the charred remains. The specks soon began to connect with each other, forming symbols on the wall, ending again with a crude drawing of the Doctor’s mark.

“Ah, yes, the symbols,” Avian gasped, before levitating a notebook over to him.

“Commander, I assume that is the reason you were looking for... Wait, what?”

“Yes, one of the girls from the lab was able to find them when she had to cover for my assistant. It’s a unique protein biomarker, found at a few sites so far...”

The commander snorts, looking at the floor. The Doctor opened his mouth to speak before remembering the story about the foalphile. His features start to soften, realising that the winged white stallion obviously felt terrible about the affair.

“I would have done the same, Duke.”

“That doesn’t make it alright. Anyway, Avian, you were explaining?”

“Ah, yes,” the scientist started again, “Well, when Malditof was reading the crime scene, she found a novel and unique protein, one that not even her Majesty’s royal science division could identify. Elsie and Emmess had a look, but they weren’t really able to pick anything up either, it’s most odd. We do have a rendering of the protein itself back in the laboratory if that would help? Do you have any idea what it says? It’s quite obviously a message for you, after all?”

“That sounds like a good idea, I’d like to meet Malditof, Elsie and Emmess” the Doctor mused, smiling broadly after his made the connection between their names, “Just one thing that’s been bothering me...” he trails off, before turning to Duke and pressing the button on his sonic. Part of the commander was illuminated, the illusion created by his ornate silver armour fading away, white fur replaced by Duke’s natural dark gray colouring. The device still whirring, he pointed the light at Duke’s face, the healthy right eye stared back; his left one scared and sewn shut. A little shocked, the Doctor deactivated the screwdriver.

“You’re not who you say you are.”

“Doctor, trust me, I am.”

“YOU’RE USING A SHIMMER!” the Doctor exclaimed loudly, backing away.

“Doctor, all of the guard do. It’s a part of the uniform, relax.” Avian chipped in, “Princess Celestia wanted all of her guards to look the same, so that it would be difficult for an individual to be targeted or singled out whilst on duty.”

“You even gave her the idea of calling it shimmer magic, if the story is true.” Duke added, hoof on his chin, “How long have you actually been here, Doctor?”

“...I think this would be my third day since breaking through. Also, would you please stop telling me about things I haven’t done yet? It takes away the surprise.”

“I’m sorry, but you practically ordered me to give you... what did you call them? Ah, yes, spoilers.” Duke replied. He looked at Avian, the two aging colts giving each other a brief stare, daring each other to crack a smile, “It’s completely necessary this time.”

“Oh, alright... In that case, explain to me who this princess is?”

“Ha, now that is one thing that you said we can’t tell you about. You’ll have to wait.”

The Doctor gave a brief pout before relaxing his face, mildly shocked that he was the type to pout when upset. Duke and Avian stared at each other again, before leading the Doctor back out into the cobbled streets outside of the building. Peeking through the door as he passed, the Doctor was able to quickly read the message written on the wall in the slowly fading red light. Very interesting indeed.

“So, what can you tell me? Do any of my... old enemies raise their heads?” he asked, raising his voice over the sound of the rain striking the cobbles and Duke’s armour. The others didn’t seem to hear him, Duke taking the lead and Avian behind him, a floppy hat keeping the rain off of his head. Stopping for a second, the Doctor pushed his hair back out of his eyes, the wetness holding it back on his head. He decided to descend into thought as he started walking again, following Duke, thinking about the meaning of the message that had been left on the wall.

The Lens was a very powerful communication tool, not too dissimilar to the communication cubes that replaced it in that it could breach different times, allowing for messages to be passed anywhere, anywhen. He had no doubt that the person, sorry, pony using it, was a Time Lord.

The idea of someone else having survived the time war thrilled the Doctor, but he was very unsure as to how to let his companions know that he could read the message left on the wall. It was an old and very obscure form of ancient Gallifreyan, one beyond even his understanding, that the TARDIS had thankfully been able to translate for him.

Whoever it was, they needed help. The Lens had picked up on their distress, and had found individuals in the same amount of pain... but why had it been killing? This was the most confusing part, to kill with the device would take an enormous amount of energy, he couldn’t be sure how many others had been murdered with it until he had seen the pictures of other crime scenes that would undoubtedly be at the laboratory he was being lead to.

Looking down, he began to muse at how easily he was moving around on four legs now. It had taken a little while, but he was quite pleased with the result. In the occasional glow of streetlights, the Doctor could see the blood of the poor children washing off of his hooves, his stomach lurching slightly as rage and disgust danced together inside. The cobbles had become much more uniform now, and they were beginning to reach an incline, water readily flowing downhill from the most breathtaking castle the Doctor had ever seen.

“How on Earth is that still standing?” He asked, looking at how it had been built into the mountain. Avian heard him this time, the old unicorn dropping instep.

“A lot of it was built using magic.” he responded, motioning with a hoof.

“I... see. So why haven’t the high winds and rain caused it to fall off? More to the point, why isn’t there more havoc from this storm? It almost feels fake.”

“Ah, well, lower parts of the city below have flooded... unfortunately, but we’ll be able to get them fixed up in no time. As for the weather itself, pegasi have an interesting affinity for clouds and the weather, they’re able to walk on clouds, as well as influence their location. We had been going through an extreme drought when the weather teams finally found this storm front plaguing a village down on the plains. The castle itself is protected by her Majesty’s magic.”

“So they towed it here? The storm?”

“Yes. We even had a very famous display team looking for cloud to use. I’d say we’ve got another week of rain left to make up for the dry spell.”

The three of them finally made it to the entrance to the castle, passing through an elegant stone gate. The look of the castle from the inside was just as impressive as from the outside, huge turrets attached to the keep, several smaller but no less impressive buildings also in the courtyard, not reaching as high as many of other conical topped towers. Passing from cover back into the rain, Duke yells, explaining that the first task is to report in to Princess Celestia.

“Once we’ve been debriefed, we can go to the lab.”

“Wait, so you work directly for the Princess?”

“Princesses” Duke corrected.

“Yes, well, anyway, I thought you were a police officer?”

“I was once. I started out in the city guard. When I was about twenty-five, I was chosen to join the Royal Protectorate. I was a captain when my...” the stallion trails off for a moment before snapping back to reality, “commanding officer was killed by a dragon. I was chosen to ascend to his post and now I command all of her Majesty’s forces. This case however, is of personal interest.”

“Yes,” Avian chimed in, slightly bitter, “The protectorate have this annoying ability to pop up whenever they please. They’re very fond of internal work, when they’re not acting as bodyguards to Celestia and Luna.”

“Avian, my old friend, you’re still hung up about Snapshot commandeering your team without asking? The Praetor of the science division was fine with it, I don’t see why you’re still so bothered.”

“Yes, well, you have a very insubordinate subordinate, Duke.”

“I’m sorry, but what is a praetor and who is Snapshot?” The Doctor asked, as they passed through the two huge solid oak doors at the entrance to the keep. Shaking his mane out, the Doctor sprayed two nearby white pegasus guards with water, gaining him a look of light disgust from them, before they were waved away by Duke.

“A captain within the protectorate and my second in command in regards to the personal protection of the royal family - I should probably mention that the two of you don’t see eye to eye. Thankfully, he’s away on an assignment in Appleloosa. The Praetor is typically the head of a chapter of the Guard, such as the science division. We don’t have a praetor in the protectorate for historical reasons. There was a traitor around a hundred years ago, her post was never re-filled. I run the protectorate myself because of this.”

The Doctor became aware of how voices were echoing in the strangely quiet entrance to the keep. When he had visited medieval castles like this before, they had often had busy little market stalls, at least in the courtyard, if not the occasional little shop within the larger castle buildings themselves - obviously the storm had been causing more trouble than they had been letting on. Listening to Duke, he couldn’t help but also notice the sound of their hooves against the polished stone; part of him missed having fingers, but he did like the sound that his new appendages made.

The group stopped outside of a huge set of gold-inlaid oak doors, a pair of pegasi stood on guard in front of it. Duke nodded and they stepped aside, opening the doors using huge golden rings held between their teeth. The Doctor looks around into a beautifully ornate hall, lush red carpet running from the threshold of the door up to a huge golden throne. Despite the rain falling outside and the heavy cloud cover, light was filtering through the stained glass windows in a way that lead the Doctor to believe was artificial. Clearly impressed, he wandered up to one of them, trying to look for the light source.

“Ahem,” Duke cleared his throat, “Doctor, this way please?”

Turning back, the Doctor could see another, far taller pony sat on the huge golden throne, she had the warmest smile, and the purest of pure white fur, outlined eyes watching him with the wonder of a mother assessing her child, multi-coloured hair moving of it’s own accord as if held on a breeze.

He felt his jaw open slightly, he’d never seen a being so beautiful, even in his hundreds of years of life, yet so... alone. It was her eyes that had given it away, on the surface, she looked warm and inviting, the sort of ruler that any race could hope for, but he could tell from her eyes that she was as ancient as him, potentially with similar regrets yet putting on a brave face for her people.

“Your Majesty, I would like to present to you, The Doctor. Doctor, this is Princess Celestia, ruler of Canterlot and of Equestria.”

Celestia’s warm smile didn’t move at all, causing the Doctor to wonder if she had met him before, like everyone else so far. He saw Duke and Avian bow deeply to her, but didn’t follow suit, unsure as to how he should feel in the presence of the towering alicorn.

“You never do bow to me... I can see you wondering.” she eventually said, a warm, gentle and melodic voice flushing the Doctor with what almost could be described as pleasure. She seemed able to read him quite easily, continuing her speech, “This is not the first time I have met you, but I feel that it may be the first time you have met me? Regardless, it is an honour to finally have the upper hoof, so to speak! Welcome to our world, I hope Sir Duke and Avian have taken care of you.” she laughed. Even her laugh oozed grace and kindness, a ruler genuinely interested in the plight of her subjects, regardless of the sorrow she was hiding within.

“Thank you, your Majesty... May I call you Celestia?” The Doctor replied, eventually settling for what he felt was a respectful nod towards her, rather than a full bow. Duke twitched slightly, obviously not too fond of the idea of being informal towards his queen, or princess, as the case may be. The Doctor wondered whether bringing up her title would be a wise idea, but chose to save the conversation for later, should he get time alone with her.

“You certainly may, my friend. I will have to let my little sister know that you have graced us with your presence once more! Luna does have quite the crush on you, but of course, you couldn’t possibly know that yet.”

The Doctor laughed, “Well, I’ll do my best to be a gentleman.”

“You always do. Now, Sir Duke,” Celestia started again, ignoring Duke’s cringe at the use of his title, “Has there been any update on the situation in the city? Has the Doctor been able to shed any light on what could be happening?”

Duke gave his full brief, starting with how he had obtained the Doctor from Brassy Bridges, through to an assessment of the scene in the old blacksmiths shop, before letting Avian take over to explain the scientific aspect of the investigation. Avian eventually got to the point that the Doctor had determined an outside influence was killing the killers and expressed his desire to get down to the lab. Celestia paid attention throughout, looking visibly distressed when the scene regarding the two young foals had been described to her, and slightly confused when the Doctor had been unable to give a meaning to the symbols etched on the wall, other than that they were from a member of his species also trapped on Equestria.

“Is there anything you can do?” She eventually asked, still looking upset.

“Well, I could probably at least work out who has the Lens, if not track them down using the psychic residue and that fascinating protein left at the scene.”

“Then I must beg of you Doctor, please, please help us bring the murderer to justice. You may use any ponies and resources that you may require. If needs demand it, I can get several very high level magic users to assist you...”

“That’s just the thing, your Majesty. I’m not sure if I should,” The Doctor interrupted, warranting another snort from Duke, “If the lens holder hadn’t eliminated this murderer, and assumably those responsible for other killings in the city, the one who killed the children would have been free to carry on. The only thing that I could possibly hope for is to obtain the lens. I mean no offense by this, but I doubt you have the power to kill with it on your own, so it would make sense to let your security services look after the device as a warning system. In return, I want the Time Lord released to me. I am the last of my species, aside of the lens holder, and I may be able to return them to my original universe. If they are doing this maliciously, I know of ways to deal with them; seal them away permanently.”

“What do you think, Sir Duke?” Celestia asks, looking at her knight.

“Well, he hasn’t steered us wrong yet. I say we give him a shot, Ma’am.”

“You have a deal, Doctor. Now, I must speak with Sir Duke in private, we have things to discuss regarding other matters... specifically repairs from the storm. It would seem that the weather teams took their orders a little too seriously.” she said, cocking an eyebrow, the smile still not leaving her face.

Avian bowed, and the Doctor nodded once more before leaving, heading towards the science division’s area of the castle and into the basement levels to find the main lab. Celestia sighed as the doors were closed,

"Was any fury recovered from the crime scene?"

"Yes, your Majesty. The science team found a vial in the scientist's personal effects shortly after I was sent to retrieve the Doctor."

"I see. I think we need to find someone external to deal with this threat - even with the dealers behind bars it is still getting into the city. Have Chameleon notified." Celestia said, a look of determination upon her face...

Author's note - I am so incredibly sorry about the horrendous accent used during this chapter...

Autumn Skies breathed heavily as she ran from her pursuer. At first, she had been having a lovely time, she had met this charming pegasus stallion via a dating agency and he had seemed genuinely interested in her work as an artist. However, as the drink began to flow he appeared to take on a more sinister side - becoming angry and even threatening a waiter for refusing to serve him. Soon after that, the advances came. Autumn liked to think she had class, being an artist and the sort to avoid colts of a certain manner, but she was quickly beginning to rethink the idea of meeting strangers for dates as she ran.

Her hooves hit the ground faster and faster as she galloped as hard as she could, trying to avoid the colt a few meters behind her. Running through the rain had weighed her down significantly, the water clinging to her coat and mane, the delicate silk dress she had been wearing torn at the edges from trying to escape.

She banked left, and her hooves slid on the wet cobbles, causing her to fall heavily, her left forehoof folding outwards with a sickening crunch. She could see him now, slowing to a trot, and she tried her best to get out of sight, hoping a member of the city guard would find her as she backed up against a jewellers’ shop, cradling her hoof, blood flowing from the wound between the cobbles, dispersing like ink as it hit the water.

“Well... hey there. Thought you could get away from me?” he grinned, brushing his windswept and bedraggled black mane out of his face, his wings trying their best to shake themselves out before folding up.

“Please, leave me alon-” she started, before receiving a purple hoof to the side of her face. She cried out in pain as he struck her, before the same hoof was forced against her mouth to hold it closed. His other foreleg hooked through the neckline of her dress, pulling and tearing at the black silk as he attempted to run it up and down her chest. Autumn began to weep, her worst fears becoming reality as he dragged her, kicking and screaming, the adrenaline making her forget about her broken limb, into an alley.

She screamed once more as a blue flash illuminated the mouth of the road, her attacker reduced to a shadow against the wall; a pair of smouldering horse shoes left fizzing against the cold wet stone.

“So, Doctor, are you ready for this? I should warn you that the girls are a little intense. Not in a bad way, of course, but they can be a bit eccentric when it comes to their field of expertise.”

“Which would be?”

“Forensic analysis. Malditof is actually on loan to us from the University of Stalliongrad. As for Elsie and Emmess, well, they’re my little girls. I can’t help but adore them.” Avian said with a broad smile, obviously a very proud parent indeed. The Doctor nodded in response, preparing himself, and Avian opened the wooden framed glass door leading to the laboratory.

Inside was a fascinating sight, all manner of glassware on three long benches, a record player in the corner blaring out the greatest hits of “Gallop DMC” and a huge glass structure suspended in the air above the far end of the benches. The Doctor heard Avian gasp upon seeing the supposed disarray, but didn’t appear to care, lost in his own fascination with the strange scientific development of this equine society. He stopped every now and then to look into conical flasks, taking readings with his screwdriver, his face varying between looks of interest, confusion and schoolboy-like giddiness.

“Malditof? Elsie? Emess? Are you there? I’ve brought a visitor?” Avian yelled, looking around.

There was a crash, and some cursing in a language that the Doctor wouldn’t have been able to understand without the TARDIS translation circuit. The brashness of the female voice, heavy with accent, made him blush slightly.

“I know what that means. Come out here at once.” Avian responded, giving the Doctor a sorry glance. Eventually, a deep blue unicorn mare, who the Doctor guessed to be around thirty years old, poked her head out of a store room towards the back of the lab. Her jet black mane was tousled, thick goggles perched on top behind her horn; he noticed that she was wearing a lab coat, stopping just before what looked like a series of tiny red stars on her flank.

“Mine apologies professor. I am vorking on zhe protein still.” she said, disappearing into the side room again for a moment, before trotting out and dusting herself off with her hooves.

“I imagine so... Do you know where my daughters are?”

“Da. Zhey have gone down to zhe canteen. Ve have managed to isolate an energy signal along vis zhe protein; I believe ve should be able to extrapolate an identity for zhe protein soon. I am vaiting currently for a treeptic digest to complete, zhen ve can know for certain.”

The Doctor clears his throat, becoming bored of being ignored by the slightly odd foreign mare, trotting up to the glass masterpiece at the back of the room and looking at himself in the reflection.

“You know,” he starts, “This is a protein found in Time Lord brain chemistry.”

There is another crash, causing the Doctor to grin - evidently she was paying attention now.

“Yeees,” he started, stepping slowly around the glass representation suspended from the ceiling, “That’s definitely it. You can tell from the beta helices interfacing with the haem group just there.” he finished, pointing at the tiny green glass bead representing a molecule of cysteine, approximately an inch away from a grey bead that he had assumed to be the ferrous component of a haem ring nearby.

“Doctor... What does it mean?”

“Well, it confirms my suspicions that a Time Lord is involved - that protein is only secreted after an experience with the Untempered Schism - literally a hole looking into the time vortex. I’m really really worried. Usually the Lens shouldn’t affect brain chemistry like that. Someone is putting far too much effort into trying to communicate and it’s quite literally killing them. I don’t think they’d be able to last much longer... I just don’t understand where they’re getting the energy to do it... they might not even be able to regenerate if it kills them.”

“Ah, yes, you mentioned regeneration once before... a very useful little trick, if I may say so.”

“Hmm. Anyway, Malditof was it? You said you’d detected an energy signature? Can you tell me where it came from?”

“Not as of yet. It is being problematic.”

“Well, no worries. I should be able to trac-”

The Doctor was interrupted by a member of the city guard bursting into the lab, his uniform still soaked, heavily out of breath. He trotted up to Avian before saluting, visibly deflating after the exertion of finding the pair.

“Sirs, there has been another attack.”

“Why the rush, my dear fellow? It’s hardly as if-”

“We’ve got a survivor sir. The Commander will meet you at the scene - just off of Sunglow lane in the entertainment district.”

Avian’s eyes grew wide with shock, before he hurriedly put his sodden hat back on his head and reached for a raincoat. Seeing the Doctor without such protection, he levitated an umbrella and slipped it into his pocket before they both set off following the white stallion who had raised the alarm. Turning back as they left, Malditof cursed once more, looking at the protein she had painstakingly built from the fragments she had been able to detect.

Outside the castle, the rain had died down momentarily to a mere drizzle, the type to form an eerie mist capable of permeating nearly anything. The Doctor yawned, able to see the moon through a gap in the cloud - he had been expecting to run the whole way to the scene, but due to the dire nature of the situation, a chariot pulled by two white pegasus guards had been commandeered. Climbing aboard, the Doctor looked to Avian before speaking, hoping to ask a question;

“So... Why do they call you Avian anyway? Bit of a strange name for a horse? Let alone a unicorn?”

Avian laughed slightly uneasily, unsure as to how to proceed with the small talk for a change.

“Well... My parents were ornithologists, and interestingly enough, both pegasi. I’m a bit of a genetic abnormality as that goes.”

“Yes, I was wondering about how that worked actually, with the four types...”

“Four? Ah, you mean the Princess - she’s a special case, a very powerful magic user. Anyway, it turns out that it’s a bit of a dice roll when you’ve got all three types of pony in a bloodline. My great grandfather on my mothers side was a unicorn, his wife a pegasus. My paternal grandparents were a Unicorn and Earth Pony couple. My wife is a unicorn, and our daughters are too. It’s a little confusing, but I could have old Batsy down in the archive show you some of her research if you wish? She’s an archaeologist... well, genetic paleontologist is the title on her office door but she’s more interested in artifacts than her actual job... Nevertheless, she’s a very bright pony indeed.”

“Oh, no need to go out of the way, I’m sure I’ll figure it out for myself. After all, I’m sure I’ve got the time.”

“There was something that I wanted to ask of you, if I may be so bold?”

“Go ahead?”

“Well, you’re aware that we’ve met before, you’re aware that you must have met the Commander and Her Majesty before... I guess what I want to know is why you’re not bothered about it. At the previous crime scene, you hardly seemed irritated or dare I say ‘freaked out’ at all?”

“Ah, that’s something you get used to with time travel. Back in my universe I had a friend, the Brigadier, he was the first human I’d met out of sync. More followed him, maybe I’ll tell you about some of them.”

The Doctor looked over the side of the carriage as they descended to the street below. He was a little surprised that the pegasi pulling the golden chariot were able to work out where they were going, assuming that they functioned in a similar manner to pigeons... big, four legged, armoured pigeons. As they sunk through the layer of mist, he could see a larger carriage, obviously the city’s equivalent to an ambulance, parked at the side of the road.

A unicorn was tending to what looked like an incredibly young mare compared to the other females he had met thus far, but maybe their looks didn’t correspond to their age as closely as it did with humans? After all, the princess didn’t look that old, but her eyes... her eyes betrayed the sort of things that his own companions had commented on. Her eyes looked ancient, easily far older than even him; a lonely goddess.

Jolting slightly as the chariot hit the ground, the Doctor climbed off and followed Avian round the corner of the alley. Duke was there, giving orders to the science team in Avian’s stead, but the scene had been as he suspected; a charred shape on the wall, a pair of horse shoes still where they had landed, marked with a little numbered white card as photos were taken of the scene.

Previous incarnations of the Doctor would have mused at why a pair of flimsy shoes were always the remaining parts of anyone vapourised by an energy weapon - one of those universal constants that never really made sense until now; evidently the metal was strong enough to survive the blast.

He raised the hoof holding his screwdriver to his face, and pressed the button with his nose, running the light around the scene, causing ripples in the slowly falling water droplets in the air. Holding it still for a second, the familiar red dots formed the same message for help as he had seen previously began to appear. Realising the message was the same, the Doctor looked down at his hooves, seeing the washed out blood trail the victim had left. He followed it.

“She’d obviously been dragged back here... Hmm. Looks like she got away from him for a second, maybe he was distracted? Another witness? Can’t have been the lens user *yet*, but I’d say at one in the morning, who else could it have been? A member of the city guard? A passer by? Forget it. I’ll ask her.” The Doctor thought to himself, trying to follow some sort of scene in his head.

He trotted out of the alleyway, wandering up to the medic who had been looking after the still shocked looking filly. A previous version of himself would have offered her a jelly baby, another a banana, but this time the Doctor had nothing to use to try and bond with her. The attending unicorn medic, one “Dr. Light Registrar”, according to his name badge, had just finished healing her broken hoof. He mentioned in passing that her name was Autumn, she was only fifteen years old and it was very fortunately only a light break. She would be able to walk on the hoof again in a few days - healing magic usually being a little unstable, but fine for such a comparatively minor injury. The Doctor mentally logged this - it seems that the unicorns do have limitations as far as their magic is concerned.

Watching the white coated individual leave, the Doctor slowly placed himself on the back of the cart next to her, under cover and out of the rain, and slipped a hoof around her as she still wept.

“Hello, I’m the Doctor. I’m with the police, I need to ask you a few questions?”

She continued crying for quite a while, at least a good thirty minutes. The Doctor knew this kind of cry. It wasn’t a cry of lament, of something done to the poor girl, barely out of childhood. No, it was that of a survivor unsure as to why their life had been spared.

He had practically invented survivors remorse, there was nothing he could have done to save even his own home, and even when the opportunity to bring it back had come, he chose to keep a planet full of silly, violent, ape-descendants. He spied Sir Duke from the corner of his eye, slowly moving towards them, and waved him away with his other foreleg. The pegasus obeyed, leaving them alone together.

“I’m sorry, Autumn is it? We really do need to talk, we’ve got a limited time frame on catching the one who did this,” the Doctor spoke up again.

“He’s... he’s dead.” she half sobbed.

“I’m sorry, I think you misunderstood me, I mean the pony who killed your attacker.”

Autumn turned to him, eyes full of legitimate hate, huge and reddened.

“Why should I help you catch them? They’re killing criminals?”

“Yes... you say them... why?”

She shifted awkwardly before crumpling slightly, under the belief that the strange brown stallion sat with her was a member of the city guard and fully capable of arresting her for hampering an investigation. She looked torn for a moment, before finally uttering her next sentence, almost reluctantly, her voice heavy with hesitation, unsure that she would be taken seriously until her eyes met his.

“There were voices... when he burned... Two ponies, I think.”

“Male, or female?”

“One of each.” she replied,

“Can you tell me what they said?”

Autumn paused again. She looked at the floor of the cart, before turning back.

“Romanadvoratrelundar delivers justice.”

The Doctor’s jaw dropped. He had been right on all counts; a Time Lord that he knew.

The Doctor ran. As fast as his four hooves could carry him, away from the filly who had narrowly escaped having her very innocence taken from her, away from the scientist and guards. The streets were beginning to darken once again, as the first few drops of rain fell upon the eerily empty streets, making the paving slick under-hoof.

Romanadvoratrelundar, his old companion from so long ago, had survived.

He had no idea how she managed it, escaping the time-lock that had held Gallifrey, but how in the nine dimensions had she ended up here? The only way that he could think of, was that she had fallen through a rift around the same time as him, but that would mean that the rift itself would have to have existed within the time-lock.

The Doctor veered right, the TARDIS now in view, just as he heard the clatter of shod hooves hitting wet stone cobbles. The rain had once again begun to pound the city, and the wind had made Duke almost mess up his landing - his cast-silver horse shoes giving off sparks as he landed on the ground with a skid.

“Wait for me!” the voice of Duke called, slightly behind the running earth pony.

The Doctor crashed into the door of his TARDIS, stopping quickly enough to unlock the door and turn back to the armoured knight, panting and out of breath.

“I’m just getting something, I’ll be back in a moment.” he said, backing inside, slowly.

“Oh,” Duke responded, “Alright?”

“Wait, you believe that? You actually believe that I’m going back inside for my coat?”

“Why wouldn’t I? The rain’s started again.”

“Uhm...” The Doctor said as he looked around, before closing the door in Duke’s face and making a mental note not to perform that specific trick should they meet again before this particular point in the good Commander’s time-line. Dashing around the console, he began mashing buttons, trying to lock onto the energy signature. The TARDIS whirred into life, and outside, Duke cursed to himself as he realised that the Doctor had pulled the wool over his eyes.

The TARDIS tumbled through the time vortex for what felt like hours, before suddenly, the power cut off. There was an almighty crash, and the Doctor found himself flung out of the door, into a brightly lit room. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he began to recognise books on a shelf. Laying on the ground, made of particularly hard wooden floorboards, the Doctor realised that he was in some sort of library, built into the trunk of a massive tree. Something underneath him wriggled;

“MMPH! MMM MM MMMPH!” came a muffled voice from under him. Putting a hoof up, the Doctor pulled himself up from the ground, knocking several books off of the shelf, and discovering that he had landed on a small orange pegasus.

The child looked up at him, scowling, her tiny wings flared as she tried to make herself look bigger.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going, jerk!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just sort of... well, fell.”

“Riiight. I’m getting Twilight. She’ll come and tell you off! You’re lucky Rainbow Dash isn’t here!”

The Doctor swallowed, awkwardly. He obviously hadn’t meant to crush the poor filly, and the idea of having to deal with more ponies whilst tracking down Romana would be wasting time - time in which she could easily kill again. The filly ran off, presumably looking for “Twilight”, whoever she was. The Doctor shuddered as he remembered reading a series of books by the same name that Amy had lent him last time she was aboard the TARDIS, books filled with phrases like ‘Porcelain Adonis’.

It wasn’t so much the fact that the characters were bland and slightly irritating, it was more that The Doctor had actually met Adonis, or rather, the gentleman who the mythical character was based upon, and he was actually more of a swarthy leathery brown, not the sparkling alabaster white described in Ms. Meyer’s “self-insert vampire fan-fiction”, as Rory had called it.

Moving on, the Doctor found himself staring at the covers of some of the books he had knocked over whilst getting off of the ground; the writing on them was little more than simple hoof-marks - obviously the translation matrix of the TARDIS was on the blink again. A hoot over-head made the Doctor glance down the aisle, to see an adult, purple unicorn trotting down towards him with a stern look on her face - just as the cloister bell of the TARDIS gave one massive toll.

Dropping the books where they were, he stepped inside again, and the centre console lit up as the TARDIS began it’s usual whirring - fading from Twilight and Scootaloo’s view.

“It just appeared, out of nowhere?” Twilight asked, looking at the little pegasus next to her.

“Yeah, and then he jumped on me! Well, more like, he was thrown out of that thing and tripped over me.”

“Do you think he wanted to borrow a book?”

“I don’t know?” Scootaloo replied, shrugging before suddenly sneezing, bracing herself against the pile of books on the floor.

Twilight levitated the top book from the pile, and blew the dust off of it. Looking inside the front cover, she saw that it hadn’t been borrowed in at least ten years, and should probably be rotated into the storage stack soon, a cavernous basement to the library proper where the old books were repaired and stored once new books filled the shelves.

“The On... Oncom...” Scootaloo said, struggling to read the title.

“Oncoming.”

“The Oncoming Stork?”

“Almost, it’s called ‘The Oncoming Storm’. I don’t think I’ve ever actually read this one before,” Twilight said, rotating the book in front of her and reading the blurb on the back, “Written by Strawberry Fields, based on a true story.”

“Isn’t she that crazy old mare from near Applebloom’s farm?” Scootaloo asked, wrinkling her nose to try and avoid sneezing from the dust.

“I think so, yeah. Weird, I never thought she’d be a horror writer...”

“Whoa! Horror? Twilight, I’ve got a book report due soon, could I borrow that?”

“Well, it’s not on the list of books that I can’t lend to minors, so I don’t see why not. I’ll get it stamped and put in a bag for you... then I think I need to transfer some of these old books downstairs for Spike to repair.”

Finally home, and clutching her saddlebag, Scootaloo trotted up to her room, and started reading the story of a monster and his cavernous blue box.