The Runaway and the Timehopper

Prologue

The wind was bleak with smog and rust circling above the Earth. The sky was cloudless, the puffy white balls of cotton already consumed and transformed into water, all stored and sold by the private factories below. Barren fields encompassed a wide variety of such venues as well as what the villagers called The Big Place—an uninspired name for sure but what else would you call a place that is big with the limited vocabulary you are given?

There was even a scattered assortment of dilapidated towers for those who lived here, their built-in electronics oxidising infinitely beneath the pulsing red fumes that dripped from above in the stead of rainfall.

This was their life: grazing in the wilting grass and asthmatic dust, working day after day, night after night in the hope that any water was found for them. But for them, it was better than being led by the SCARE, and after many years of being under their terrifying rule, they were glad to be free.

Who knows? Maybe one day they too could work their way up to the luxuries of The Big Place and earn a well-deserved rest.

Two among the villagers were not like the others. A lot of them were wild and varied in their physical features—they had all sorts of hairstyles and colours and body builds and skin tones throughout the villages of the land—and their clothes were all murky and ragged, but two were feigning their hardworking attitude to blend in with the crowd.

They had been in The Big Place. They knew what was on the other side.

And they wanted back in pronto.

So they waited patiently. They worked day after day, night after night in a dry land that almost starved them to death. They endured countless hours of brainwashing sessions masked as re-education and religion, jumping from town to town as they waited for the perfect opportunity to strike.

They knew that storming in without any plan of action or escape was a suicide mission, so at the very least sticking through the snowless winters and sunless summers would yield a slightly higher chance of success.

They knew that hard work wouldn't bring them into The Big Place.

And lumped in with the fact that they were being hunted, they had to be as sly as possible or they risked one of the painful punishments the Doctor had in store for traitors like them.

Because in the end, no matter how much they tried to justify their treachery, they were still traitors. They could warp their backstories as much as they wanted but nothing would change that.

It was on a fateful Thursday that an opportunity opened up for them, and it was just two years after they went into hiding. It was announced that that winter, the leader of The Big Place was hosting a large feast for...

Themselves mostly.

But residents from all around the world were allowed to trek as close as their legs and worn down cars could take them to the event and watch in awe as their higher-ups stuffed themselves silly. They would even be allowed to taste a substantial amount each, sweetening the deal for them.

Upon hearing the news, the two immediately set out, eyes watering at the idea of finally getting their grubby little hands on freedom, mouths foaming at the taste of the glorious victory that awaited. As normal, they hopped from village to village, acting as timely nomads who would help many cities on their trials and tribulations for recognition. No one seemed to question why they left so quickly though.

It was the hunger. They couldn't be seen with the hunger for triumph or the thirst for ecstasy emanating from their very being. The others would get the same idea.

Eventually, the winter came and the freezing winds with it. There was never snow anymore, so beyond the gates to The Big Place was a blanket of eternal grey, scarlet threads weaving through the crevices in the sky as they always were, always are, and always will.

The sandstorms were especially cruel at this time of year too, forming hurricanes of dirt and dandelion petals and pollen all compounded and pressurised. They were strong enough to knock people off their feet, and for those who managed to come this far it was the final test of strength.

Some barely lived; others cracked their skulls and bled out into the floor.

But as soon as the gates were opened, the whirlwinds were cancelled out by the stampede of sheep scrambling for a space, craving the aroma of gooder food, greater grass and brighter skies. Even if they were too late to actually eat anything, they wanted a glimpse of what the past was like and what the future had in store for them.

The two traitors wanted everything and more. They knew of a secret project that could give them everything and more.

And sneaking in amid the crowd was so much easier than they anticipated. The frenzy was so uncontrollable that the gatekeepers were much more occupied with keeping the bulk of citizens alive than looking out for runaways.

With their deeper inside knowledge of the city, they were able to enter a network of secret passageways they found while exploring as younger children one day, a web that they weren't ever supposed to see. It was like the sewers—claustrophobic, complex, labyrinthine, and very smelly.

It was the smell that drew them here in the first place. They foolishly wondered what could smell so bad beneath the big perfect city, not taking the stench as the detergent that it obviously was trying to be.

Except unlike the sewers, it wasn't just beneath the city. It covered everything and everywhere, giving multiple excellent viewpoints to spy on everyone at every elevation.

Are you in lift?

At a park?

On top of the tallest skyscraper ever built?

Wetting yourself as you drunkenly sprint to the toilet?

There is most likely a hidden area with a peephole nearby. As if the cameras weren't enough.

The younger of the two clutched the elder's hand as tightly as he could as they crept through the corridors. The first time they came here they both almost died, and he was petrified of this place. He made sure not to break down crying, however, since, as the elder explained, any significant abnormality in sound would alert the authorities of their location and they would actually die.

The elder held the hand tightly as well; it was her fault they almost died the first time—and the many times afterwards—and she didn't want the only family she had left to die. Not now, not ever.

"It's okay, bro," she whispered when she could tell her brother was on the verge of breaking, "we're so close to finishing. You can last just a little longer, can't you?"

"B-but I'm scared..."

"There's no need to be scared, J." She smiled. "I'll be here to protect you. Promise."

"Y-you promise?" he sniffed.

"Of course I promise." She raised her hand and wrapped her pinkie around his. "In fact, i pinkie promise."

Eventually, they reached a large spherical room. From the time they had before being banished, they knew that above them was Centre Square as shown on the map they drew. Another indicator was the tank of water in the middle of the room, filled to the brim with all the fresh water needed to quench everyone's thirst.

They weren't here for that though. What they were here for was the staircase leading directly to the laboratory. That was their destination.

That was where the heist would really kick in.

"Well then—"

"Ooh! Ooh!" the brother interrupted, chirping like a monkey.

She turned to face him. "Yes, J?"

"Can I say it, sis?"

She sighed, grinning. "Go ahead."

His eyes were lit with childlike joy. "Thank you, thank you sis!"

"Just say it."

"Well then..." He swiftly cleared his throat. "Operation Stent Snatch... is go."