The Doctor is tied with his hands behind the back of the chair. His head hangs low, his face fresh with bloody scars from the beatings. The Doctor's hair is a greasy mess. You've never seen the Doctor at such a low point. Because not only is his body broken, more importantly, his spirit is broken. He's been defeated; at least that's how he acts. He has no hope left, no plan to escape, no plan to live. He just takes the beatings, not answering the questions. The reason he doesn't answer, well, he just doesn't care enough. He hasn't spoken a word aloud in six months. He just grunts, only if he's hit hard enough. "I'll ask you again, Doctor. Where is Rose Tyler?" The Doctor does nothing. Says nothing, doesn't even move. He's punched in the jaw, brass knuckles cracking it. His head lifted up, only because there are two hands around his face pulling it up so he can be looked in the eyes. "Where is Rose Tyler?" Their faces are nearly touching. The Doctor makes eye contact, never breaking it, never blinking. Just staring with those eyes. Oh, those eyes that have seen the stars, that have witnessed so many die, those eyes that remember everything. "Alright, Doctor. You're definitely a tough safe to crack. We'll get in there; we'll get in your head. Have a good night, well, with no sun light in these steel and concrete cells, who can tell?" The lights were shut off. For the three months. No one saw him and he saw no one for three months. Just him, his thoughts, and the complete dark.
"How did you sleep, Doctor? Well, I think we both know that answer. You didn't! No, we've had you plugged into a special device. I love it. It pumps just enough nutrients and proteins to keep you from dying on a day to day basis. So no one ever has to come in and feed you. Now, the best part, is that it also pumps a huge amount of adrenaline into your body, keeping you constantly awake and super aware. In fact, you're only alive due to your double hearts. A human's lone heart couldn't handle that much adrenaline. But you and your Time Lord binaryvascular system definitely can. Now, Doctor, how are you doing? You feel alive?" The Doctor looked up, unassisted, his scars now miraculously gone, his face good as new, except now, now he has a beard. A long, greasy beard. The Doctor turned his head to the right, and looked at the wall. They both were looking now, and saw it. Written on the wall was 'My turn'. The Doctor took hold of him, his hands now free, and threw him into the wall. The Doctor walked over and picked him up off the floor and sat him down in the chair. He then tied him to the chair. He hooked the man up to the machine. The Doctor broke his nine month silence.
"You leave a Time Lord, hooked up to an adrenaline machine, knowing he that when the regeneration cycle is starting that he can using the regeneration energy to simply heal instead of an actual regeneration?" The Doctor took a breath. "You're a bloody idiot. Especially giving a Time Lord three months to absorb the adrenaline into the body, to be used at his choosing. I'm also having trouble wondering why you leave alien technology in my hands for three months. It's like you want me to make a sonic screwdriver. One last point for you. Why on earth, considering these variables, would you come in here with no back up? No guard, no observers, nobody to immediately report a security breach. What are you playing at?"
"Simple, Doctor. It's already been reported. I'm no fool, Doctor. You act as if I don't know you." The Doctor stared him in the eyes.
"You don't know me."
He looked at the Doctor, with those same eyes, and said, "Oh, Doctor. I know you better than you know yourself."
"Right, well. I don't know what that means, so I'll disregard it. Now, with my sonic screwdriver, I was able to raise the dosage of the adrenaline machine. However, it will deal out the dosage nearly five hundred times faster. You will not survive."
"What, Doctor? Killing humans for funsies, are we? That's cruel. That's murder. Especially the inhumane way you're doing it. What are we now Doctor? A monster?"
