Part One - An Unexpected Arrival

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The TARDIS wheeled through space, a small blue speck of impossibility against the majestic polka dots of the heavens. Civilisations rose and fell in its wake, as its two inhabitants danced with joy at their latest, remarkable, escape.

"Well, that was fun," grinned the Doctor as he bounced around the control room, his broad mouth framed by floppy hair and the ever-present bow-tie. "So where now? You ready for some more adventure, or do you want to go back to your boring job?" He raised a hand and pointed spindly fingers at his companion, a gesture which reminded her of old pictures and films she'd seen of Elvis Presley on stage.

Clara stifled a giggle as she folded her arms and pouted in mock offence. "My job is not boring. Take that back."

The Doctor frowned. "Oh, all right. So what do you reckon? How about Roman Britain. Even better, what about Roman Rome?" He clapped his hands and ran round to a lever on the console, grinning at her in that way which tore back the facade of a centuries-old Timelord to reveal the little boy dwelling just under the surface.

"Why don't we go somewhere even more distant?" she asked. "What's the most remote place you could take me to?"

"Ah...!" said the Doctor, pointing then scratching his chin, enjoying this new challenge. "How about..." He reached down to the lever but, before he could touch it, the TARDIS lurched violently, throwing them both to the ground.

The room spun and jolted again and again, buffeting them painfully against console and then wall. Clara rolled out of the way of a hatstand which speared across the floor, grabbing hold of a step and clinging to it for dear life as their ordeal continued, an insane roller-coaster ride which mercilessly continued without care for its passengers.

Eventually, thankfully, it abated and Clara pulled herself to her feet and peered over the central console. The Doctor's face, wide-eyed and worried, stared back at her.

"What happened?" asked Clara.

"I think we landed," said the Doctor, pausing for a moment as though testing that the ground beneath his feet was in fact solid. Satisfied, he darted round to the small display screen and frowned at it. "Yep, definitely landed."

"But where?"

The Doctor grinned. "Let's find out!" He flipped a lever to open the door and then offered his arm to Clara. With a raised eyebrow, she looped her arm in his and they marched outside.

They stepped out into a dull, grey corridor, a sterile and metallic place which smelt of a hospital waiting room. Clara peered to either side while the Doctor darted over to a wall panel. A short burst from his sonic screwdriver caused it to fall away in a shower of sparks, revealing a screen and a collection of flashing lights. "Now, let's see..." he muttered, waving the sonic screwdriver at the screen. "Hold on; that's not possible."

"What?" asked Clara, appearing at his shoulder. "What's not possible?"

"Well, you wanted remote. No idea how, but we are in Vascancera." He looked around worriedly.

"Sounds a lot more exotic than it looks."

"Oh, it's not exotic. Not at all," said the Doctor. "Vascancera is a prison. The prison. The most impregnable prison in all of time and space. It is controlled and guarded by automatons, totally incorruptible. Each prisoner is housed in their own block, with no hope of escape or parole. Just to make things even more foolproof, this whole prison exists outside of time and space. No-one gets in, and no-one gets out; just the robotic guards and four million of the worst criminals from everywhere and everywhen."

"Four million?" asked Clara incredulously.

"Yep. You name them, they're here. Caligula, Hitler, Clavis of the Seven Horns..."

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