Doctor Who and The Ghost of Time.

Doomsday

In the distance stood a man, dressed in a grey peacoat and blue turtleneck, with a navy blue scarf hanging around his neck. He wore grey jeans and blue Converse, his figure partially obscured by the shadows. The Doctor squinted, trying to make out the features of this enigmatic figure. The air was thick with tension. Suddenly, The Doctor swung his arm up and activated his sonic screwdriver, the familiar buzzing sound cutting through the air.

But the Ghost quickly retaliated, raising his arm and unleashing a yellow beam of light. The device emitted a high-pitched, pulsating whine, mingled with a sharp, mechanical hum. The beam struck The Doctor squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling to the floor. Pain wracked his body as he looked up at his hand, watching in horror as golden light and dust began to emanate from it—a telltale sign of regeneration.

Before he could react further, another bolt of light shot out, hitting him in the chest again. The Doctor's vision blurred as the Ghost approached, a smirk playing on his lips. The world around him seemed to fade, replaced by a cacophony of agonising pain and the distant echo of the Ghost's voice.

"How... How did you escape?" The Doctor gasped, struggling to speak, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm the definitive article. Did you think I'd stay in your world for too long?" The Ghost replied, his voice dripping with condescension. He reached down and pulled the key from The Doctor's hand. As he held the key, it transformed from a simple Yale key into the intricate TARDIS shield. The Ghost glanced to his side and saw The Doctor's sonic screwdriver lying on the ground. He slammed his foot down, crushing it under his shoe. The sound of shattering technology echoed ominously. He then knelt down, picked up a piece of the shattered device, and shoved it into his pocket.

Rising to his feet, The Ghost walked towards the TARDIS, his steps slow and deliberate. He looked up at it with a mixture of nostalgia and triumph. "Hello, old girl. I'm home," he said, his voice a blend of tenderness and triumph. He inserted the key into the lock. The door swung open, and he stepped inside, closing it behind him. The TARDIS began to dematerialise, the familiar wheezing and groaning echoing through the air. The Doctor, his strength fading, reached out a trembling hand, trying in vain to stop it from leaving. Memories of everything he had done flashed before his eyes before he finally succumbed to his injuries, his body slumping to the ground.

Inside the TARDIS, the Ghost approached the console. The moment he touched it, the TARDIS lit up, the time rotor glowing brightly. He looked up and smiled. "I'm sorry I was gone for so long. It was my fault they took you. I shouldn't have left the door unlocked. Let's go home," The Ghost said. He ran around the console, flicking the right switches and buttons before pulling down the handbrake. The time rotor started to move, the TARDIS responding eagerly to his commands.

"Okay, it's done. I don't need you anymore," he muttered to himself, a note of finality in his voice.

"Oh, come on, Doctor. You can't escape me. You can only fight me for so long before I take over," a voice echoed, sinister and mocking. The Ghost looked down and saw the reflection of the Valeyard in the console's polished surface. The Doctor's eyes widened with recognition and horror.

"YOU'RE MINE!" the Valeyard roared, lunging towards him. The Doctor fell to the floor but quickly jumped up, defiance burning in his eyes. The room around them seemed to ripple with the intensity of their struggle.

"No, no, you won't get me, sunshine. Not yet," he declared, his voice steady and determined. He reached out, grasping the edge of the console for support. The only thought running through his mind was of someone he had missed for so long and promised he would see again. He ran around the console, inputting the coordinates: London 2206. The TARDIS flew through the time vortex at full speed, the control room shaking violently.

"Where are you? Also, this place is too... clean. Where's my chair, where are my books, where oh where is my typewriter?" he muttered, frustration mingling with urgency. But before he could start to sort things out, the TARDIS thudded, the time rotor stopped, and The Doctor looked at the doors. He realised he was going to need to fetch something from the second control room. His steps were hurried but deliberate, the weight of his mission pressing heavily on his shoulders.

The Doctor knew that the battle was far from over, and as he moved through the corridors of the TARDIS, his mind raced with plans and contingencies. He could feel the presence of the Valeyard lurking, waiting for any moment of weakness. But The Doctor was determined—no matter the cost, he would not let the Valeyard win.