Line Of Fire

This is Eric Jason...i don't know if you can hear me..or if anyone is even there. The year is 2015...the third day of 2015 to be exact...there was an explosion...a war ignited and the human race is on the verge of extinction. I am calling on anyone...everyone for one last shot. For one last shot to take this planet back...we're going to show them who we really are...and what we're really capable of.....Jason out.

1 week earlier.....

The cities of planet Earth began to awake, opening their eyes to a new day and dawn as it rose over the horizon. People began to ignite their car's engines and started to race off to their daily chores and jobs without a thought in mind. In every sense of the word, the day was normal or at the very least, a beautiful day thanks to the nice cool breeze coming from the south east.

Eric did the same as he had done for the past week; look for a job or meaning to his life in this time period. Ever since he was forced back in time and burdened with protecting the now regenerated Sonya, Eric's life has become a tangled mess. A barely recognizable figure among the hundreds of thousands that patrolled the streets of London; a blur to all that happened to glance at him.

That was until night came.....

Eric sat on a nearby bench, a fountain at his back and the stars in front of him. The crowds had died down as the day progressed, unlike the thoughts of Eric Jason that continued to pile up as the days rolled by. Then all of a sudden the night sky light up. A light so bright it kicked Eric out of his gaze at the ground below him. Slowly Eric stood up, his eyes now locked on the large white orb hovering of the city. The sphere acted like a beacon to all still awake; more and more people began to gather in crowds to view the abnormal occurrence.

With a sudden burst of energy, lines of fire sprayed down onto the city, engulfing nearby buildings in flames and explosions. Instantly the crowd began to scatter, screams roaring out and echoing through the country side as the sphere continued to light up the once sleeping city. Eric watched in terror from the corner of a nearby alleyway he had managed to escape to in the midst of the chaos. Little did he know, every major city on the planet was under attack, little did he know..this would be the beginning of a genocide...

There was only so much time the Metacrisis Doctor could run around the globe before his credit card ran out. And there was only so far he could go borrowing from ATM machines. That was the price of being human; he had to take the slow path. It wouldn't have been nearly as bad if he had had someone to share it with; but he didn't. Rose had been stuck in the parallel universe and he was brutally reminded of that a year ago. Or was that three years ago...he didn't remember. He had gone through a few time loops and distortions to speed along the clock anyway. So much so that when he finally arrived back in London, things had changed. Not big things, but little small, unimportant things. His favorite café for getting chips at had closed, and they'd repaved the street going by his apartment. When he arrived at school to take up his old job, he found it had already been filled. That was ok, he could come back in as a teacher for a different class until his old physics class needed a replacement. But he found it slightly disconcerting; evidently, the world couldn't wait for him. And usually, the world waited for the Doctor. Well, except that he wasn't really the Doctor, now was he?

The good thing about jumping back and forth accidentally in time, and being away in general, meant he had access to his old apartment. No one had lived there since he first rented it, and while the apartment manager was ready to sell to someone else, he'd coughed up some What species is he? - Dead Time Agent.'n'bull story about visiting a sick relative and getting sick with a deadly disease himself. He'd had to pay for a few months overdue rent, but he managed to get access to his equipment. Now there was a happy Doctor.

So he went to work, tinkered with his stuff, lived an ordinary human life and wondered when the next rip between parallel universes would occur. He had detected some odd energy near the Torchwood building, like someone had used a dimension portal to go back in time, but he'd never been able to follow up on it. No matter what he found, fate just didn't allow him to get back to Rose. He supposed it was best that way; the two universes didn't need to die because some heartsick human couldn't accept it and move on with his life. Still he almost willed for Rose to come back to him.

It was when he sat on the foot of his bed, a contraption in his lap, adjusting the frequency node of the circuit board that he felt a tremor beneath his feet. It was so small, that at first he assumed it must have been his body swaying due to fatigue. Then he felt it again, this time stronger, and he looked up towards the window. All was calm, all was quiet, and he could see the vague outline of the moon hidden behind a skyscraper.

Then the ground shook hard as the nearby building blew apart in a roar of thunder and blazing fire. He gaped at the firework display, and clutched his contraption to his body as he ran to the window. Looking out, he saw what he had first imagined to be the moon, pouring out waves of fire like a flamethrower. "What?" he asked aloud, surprise and shock on his face. Bad things weren't supposed to happen on the slow path. The slow path was dull, and only the little unimportant things presented a problem. Bad things only happened when the Doctor was nearby, and...well who was he kidding, he WAS the Doctor. And that meant that he had to find out what in the galaxy was lighting up London like a carnival.

His screwdriver went into his pocket along with pieces of his contraption, and he burst through the door into the hallway. The hallways were vacant, but he could see a crowd of people outside, panicked and screaming. His heart went out to them, but there was nothing he could do til he saw for himself. Nothing he could do until...

And then the building shook as a tremendous explosion rocked it, the windows bursting apart as flames soared in. The Doctor was thrown to the ground as the ceiling caved in, and beams supporting the upper level fell down. As he knocked against one, he felt like a curtain had just been thrown over his head.

When he awoke perhaps several minutes later, it was with a groggy feeling that he had to get out of the building. His hands pressed against he nearby beams and he pulled them away in alarm; they were extremely hot to the touch. His eyes glazed over the hallway and he saw flames licking at the window frames, flames licking at the rug on which he lay, and flames climbing the walls of the hallway. Had he not been in the middle of it, had it not carried an ominous desire for destruction, he might've appreciated the display. Now it seemed he was doomed to lie in a fiery grave--which would not have been a bad thing if he was going to die; his body would be burned up and no one would discover any timelord oddities his half human, half timelord body had. But he wasn't about to die while there were people to save and a mystery to solve.

He hauled himself to his feet, a groan leaving his lips as his head spun madly. He placed a hand to his head and navigated the smoke filled hallway to the stairs. Luckily for him, the stairs were exempt from the flames. It was almost smoke free and he allowed himself a moment to breathe deeply.

The ground shook again and he was nearly thrown down the stairs. He clung to the arm railing as plaster fell down from above, landing beside him and smashing to pieces. With a dull realization that that could've been his head there, he lumbered down the stairs until he had reached the last door. He didn't even have to place his hand against this door; he could see the glass fogged up and the brilliant light showing underneath the door. Still he gingerly pressed a hand to the door, and confirmed what his other senses had detected; there was a roaring fire on the other side. It was the only door leading to the first floor though, so pulling out a hankerchief and holding the door handle, he swung it open and leapt over the flaming doorway.

He almost staggered as he landed, and he noted dizzily that much of the lobby was ablaze. He did his best to avoid the heavier pockets of flames, and made his way towards the fire escape. With a hard shove, the door gave way and he was free.

The outside wasn't much better though; there wasn't as much to burn, but the screams that filled the streets made his ears hurt. An overwhelming stench of death hit his nostrils, and he almost keeled over. His head swam, and with great force of will he made his way to the more secluded part of town. There the flames didn't fall, but he didn't have time to comprehend why. His main concern was getting out of harm's way and resting before his head exploded. He collapsed against a wall and bags of garbage, and allowed his eyes to travel to the sky. The moon that was not a moon was pouring its wrath over the city. And he had a minor concussion and absolutely no idea what it was.

Eric ran, he ran faster than he had ever done before. A sudden explosion caused by the beam entering a nearby shop throwing Eric onto his back, the sight of horrified people roaring past and by him reflected in his eyes as he looked up. Fire continued to rain down on the remaining citizens around him as he slowly stood up and took a look around around him.

A nearby screen caught his attention, the image of a news reporter, his words muted by the roaring screams but the images clear as the ship above him. Camera angles of ships firing down on cities across the globe; some showing jets and other military vehicles fighting against the space ships. Some cities able to get a few down, but the overall effort was reported as a failure. Looking down at his dimensional compressor on his wrist, Eric remembered what he had stored in it. Looking over and up at the sphere, Eric thought to himself, It's the only chance these people have got...i have to do something.....

Activating the dimensional compressor, Eric's body was immediately covered in his rebellion armor. Using the extra strength his armor gave him, Eric hurried over a fallen light pole and attempted to pick it up, "Nope" he grunted, turning his attention away from the pole, "Too heavy". His eyes danced around the ground around him until they fell upon a car door that had been melted off from the beam. Grinning, Eric rushed over to it and picked it up. Using both hands, Eric flung his body around and tossed the car door at the sphere.

The sphere lit up with flames as the door punctured the hull of the ship, causing it's beams of chaos to stop and turn its attention solely on Eric. The sphere began to descend onto the city against its will; smoke pouring from the breached section of the shell. "Booya!!" Eric proclaimed happily as the sphere began to smoke; but his celebration was short lived as he quickly noticed the direction of the ship. With wide eyes, Eric turned around and bolted towards a nearby building as quickly as he could, "Not good! Not good!" he exclaimed. As soon as he moved in the direction of the building, the sphere behind him shot a beam, engulfing the building in flames. As Eric's options of escape began to dwindle, so did his running room, a few yards in front of him stood a turned over double decker bus and no room to run around it. Nice going Eric..your life for one of their ships. Good trade

There was very little the Metacrisis Doctor could due to treat his head injury; it wasn't like he could rush over to a hospital and make sure nothing was broken. The city of London was under attack, and the hospital would be full of the dying. No, he thought with a pained grimace, he wouldn't be jumping the queue. Besides, given a few minutes, all would be right. His timelord body would han--no, he was a human. Humans got hurt, humans needed to rest, humans needed to sleep. Dang but humans were so fragile! Just one hit, or one fall from the top of a tall building would kill them. And sadly, he was one of them. Not that that was bad of course; he liked humans. They were one of the most beautiful races he had ever encountered. He just disliked being battered around like some chew toy.

But complaining, whether to himself or aloud, wasn't about to get him anyway. He could stare hopelessly up at the sphere like every other human who was not running was doing, or he could do something about it. But what? Try as he might, he just couldn't force his brain to come up with a good solution. What he needed was his Tardis. He NEEDED his Tardis! But there was no welcome wheezing and grinding to meet him; there was no phasing in and out of the blue doors. He was on his own, with his tinker toys and his sonic screwdriver.

His screwdriver! He'd almost forgotten about it. He fumbled it out of his pocket and messed with the settings, getting it on a scanning frequency. Sadly, the first thing he needed to do was analyze it, and once that had been done, he would be able to figure out what frequency might disable it; if it was susceptible to that. Not all technology was, though he had his doubts that this was anything as powerful as a Dalek fleet or a cyberman ship. Lucky for him then, perhaps. Usually that had ulterior motives, and desperate plans that needed to be stopped. What was the plan behind this then? Outright invasion? His mind wheeled at that, and for some reason he felt there had to be more than just another species trying to take over the Earth. Well if it was anyone like the Sycorax, he'd just swagger up to them, challenge them with his authority as the Doctor, and send them packing--after a battle of wits and a lot of running.

He took a while to actually get to his feet, his body still uncooperative with his mind. In fact, his mind felt in perfect shape, and was busy wheeling over several possibilities, while swimming in a pool of arrogance. His head hurt tremendously as he lumbered towards the streets, unmindful of the exploding buildings nearby, but he had an idea.

And then just as suddenly, it disappeared, for in the blink of an eye the sphere had dropped down on the city. Blinking away the dampness of his eyes caused by the smoke, he watched as the sphere practically hurtled towards the ground. It was in flames, obviously damaged by something, and it seemed almost...angry? Against all practical judgement, he climbed to the top of what he realized later was a bus. He clung to the railing, and as he adjusted his screwdriver's settings again, he realized there was someone running down the street. There was something strange about him, the Doctor decided, and it wasn't the hoodie he was wearing. Maybe it was the focus he seemed to have, and the fact that the sphere seemed to be careening around the edge of the building after him as it fired its weapons. He cringed from the insane heat that suddenly seemed to envelop the air, but he stayed his position on the bus as he pointed his screwdriver towards the sky. Several quick pulses were transmitted from his sonic, and he aimed to confuse the sensory inputs of the sphere; whether that meant a sensor fluke of lots of attacking enemies, all the systems shutting down to engage repair mode, or finding an absolute lack of enemies, he wasn't sure. Either way, it was bound to say something! He just really hoped on the latter as he ducked his head down behind the bus.

Airports were weird. So many people from so many cultures mixed together, all in the same space, the same walls in the same tubes of metal rocketing through the air at the speed of sound, and rarely does anyone talk to each other. The movement of the airport remained a relatively quiet hum compared to the roaring city sounds outside, the loudest noises were always children or the emotionless voice that droned information coming from every direction. Pav walked across the hallways, Bag slung over his shoulder. He had flown down instead of enduring the long drive this time, but hadn't brought much. He was only here a short while anyway. Or so he thought.

Everything was blearily normal. He got off the plane, walked to the front slowly, got a coffee, threw it out because it was gross, hailed a cab outside, got out on the wrong street. He stood motionless and silent on the street, looking at unfamiliar shops and people bustling by, minding their own business. He had been to London plenty, but he didn't know the city well enough to know where is directions had done him wrong. he picked a direction(the wrong one but he didn't know that) and tried to find a land mark he could orient himself with.

As he strolled, hands in his pockets, eyes wandering the streets looking at but not really observing the city around him, The ground shook. He looked up at the dark night, confused at first. An earthquake? He had felt those before but he thought England didn't get many. The ground shook more violently this time. It took a lot of effort for him to stay on his feet, looking around for somewhere safe to wait it out. Just as his eyes met a nice looking open spot, the building in front of it burst into violent flames. The previously dark and unbearably normal night was suddenly bright with activity. Not the kind of activity Pav had been hoping for.

People screeches and screamed, running about as fire rained from the brightly lit sky. If Pav had had any drink in the past number of hours besides his sip of poorly made coffee, he would have likely wet himself or something of the sort. His eyes stayed wide, transfixed. He stared at the bright light, fire raging and pouring from the sky like bitter vengeance as he stood still, like a deer in headlights. he was snapped out of his stupor when someone ran into him, pushing him out of the way, he stumbled back just as a loud roar of fire leaped to life behind him. White hot pain tore through his back, concentrated intensely on his shoulder as searing pain from flame and debris reminded him why he should have really been moving in the seconds he wasted standing still. He cried out, drowning in the cries of others and clutched his shoulder, tears blinding him. Panic and Adrenaline pumped through his veins, seeming to slow time. Everyone was running in every which direction. He picked one. Arguably the right one this time. He wasn't sure how many times he'd turned, or how long fire and rained from the sky and the ominous light suspended in it but it stopped. He stopped too, frozen in place for a moment as he hurriedly recalculated the situation. his view was obscured by a building and what looked like the end of a bus, He would go look.

He stumbled, less frantically than before by mostly insignificant increments considering his possible impending doom, around the building and to the bus. He stepped back and looked up, bewildered and confused at the sight his eyes were perceiving. The light, not really a light but he didn't have anything else to call it as of yet, was going after one man dressed very oddly that he could just barely see through the bus windows. Another was standing on the bus holding what looked like a very small flashlight that made an obnoxiously loud noise at it. He sincerely hoped it was more than just an obnoxiously loud noise because he happened to have other things he wanted to do with his life than die right here. past the bus was very little cover, so he went towards it, not that he was very far. He sort of hid behind it, and used his good arm to pull himself up and watch from the window for now, looking for something, anything he could do besides clutch to this metal box with his trembling hands an cower like the coward he was.

Eric was grateful, grateful because he was still alive, grateful that something malfunctioned in the angry ship that was set on ramming him. A few moments ago he was flailing through the streets of London, trying to find something to shield him from the ships gaze and set path to no avail. Now he clung the wall wide eyed and staring down a now smoking hot ship, parked just inches away from his terrified body. Stepping to the side, Eric let out a cough and waved the smoke away from his face as he circled the craft. "What the heck was that?" Eric coughed, taking a closer look at the space ship, "One moment your chasing after me..the next your dead..and i am..talking to a machine. Nice going Eric..".

Rubbing the back of his head, Eric lowered it and released a deep breath before continuing his inspection of the killer space ship. Running his hand over the side, Eric looked for some sort of door or way to enter the ship with no avail, a released sigh marking his frustration as he placed his hands on his hips. Looking over his shoulder, Eric glanced over his remaining surroundings. Buildings still stood tall, some marked with burn marks, others appearances headlined by debris and broken bodies. The sounds of sirens and paramedics roared across the town; the brightest sign Eric had heard or seen all day to say the least.

In his mind, Eric began to work over the consequences of staying where he was or bolting away. If he stayed he would surely be detained and questioned by the police or whoever was able to clean up the mess in the city. If he left, he might never find out what is inside of the mysterious space ship. "If only i remembered to store a wrench in my compressor.." Eric groaned as he came to a conclusion and went to work on finding a way to pry open what had previously tried to kill him.

Time seemed to slow, which was an odd thing for the Doctor to envision, as he waited behind the bus. Soon enough, he had his answer, and the ground shook with a terrifying thunder that knocked him off the bus. He lay on the pavement, staring up towards the smoky sky, the sounds of paramedics and fire trucks in the distance. Help was coming...

He coughed as he hauled himself back to his feet, and stumbled for the bus railings. Up he climbed until he was seated on top, or rather on the side of the bus, and he peered down at the scene below. Flames trailed in the wake of the angry ship, and the ship itself was flaming from the impact of something fairly big and metallic. His brown eyes glazed over the scene, and he had to keep himself from falling off the bus. All he wanted to do was to lie down and sleep for a while, but the situation demanded he stay awake and solve it with his clever brain and his incomparable stamina. He almost fell off the bus again.

He continued to stare at the scene as his brain tried to piece together what to do next, which it wasn't doing as well as it should have for a mind that was "working perfectly." His eyes traveled after the strange man who was doing what humans did best, investigating strange unknown things. Actually, he was surprised that he hadn't run away in terror, which tended to be what most people did, that and call in the army. The army would probably be storming through wanting to take it back to their lab to find out how it worked and whether they could adapt the technology for their own use. If there was any finding out to be done, it had to be now and...he knew he'd seen that hoodie somewhere before!

"Villengard!" the Metacrisis Doctor shouted as he swooped off the bus, and landed unceremoniously on the pavement below. His head swam furiously, but he fought to keep it under control as he swaggered in Eric's direction. "Or near villengard anyway. Right near the banana grove. Bananas are good..." He had to forcibly stop his mouth from rehashing previous thoughts before he started babbling on a completely different subject. Which wasn't bad of course, but it wasn't in any way related to their current dilemna, and he really wanted to stay related if his head could handle it. "Nice design, augmented strength, resistance against beam weapons, bad intention. What is it with you humans always developing weapons of war?" He gave Eric an admonishing gaze that was dulled only by the slightly glassy look in his eyes, before he turned his attention back to the strange ship. Opening it was easy, so long as it wasn't deadlock sealed. He squatted down, ignoring Eric's presence beside him, and buzzed his screwdriver over the cracks the spaceship inevitably had.

Pav cowered fearfully behind the bus as the spacecraft(that was fairly obvious now, he'd seen some strange things but this may be the most violent) He heard, now that his ears weren't full of the sound of nearly dying, the sound of paramedics in the distance. He slumped against the bus and looked up at the man above it, who he could barely see every once in a while when he almost toppled off the side. He was obviously not well. he hesitated behind the bus, crouching near the floor, hand overing around his hurt shoulder. Eventually his swimming thoughts and fear weren't enough to combat concern and curiosity.

He straightened up and stepped up onto a ripped edge of the very much out of commission(probably forever) bus. He reached to the top, wincing and letting out a whimper when it pulled the painful skin on his shoulder more taut. He paused, reconsidering, but reached up again. gritting his teeth. It wasn't that bad. Tears stung his eyes and he pulled himself up onto his foot on the broken edge. It shifted under him and he nearly died of a heart attack, despite being relatively close to the ground. He reached again and pulled himself slowly and with a lot of effort and grit to get through the pain of his shoulder and pull himself onto the top of the bus. It occurred to him that he must be a rather sick sort of masochist to prefer to get over this bus than just walk away.  He didn't get unto his feet, shuffling on his knees the short way to sit on the other edge and slide off far more effortlessly than he had gotten up in the first place.

He let out a pained huff of air as his feet hit the ground. He looked up to the two men in front of him, he had absolutely no idea what they were talking about but he wanted in. He wanted to know what this thing was and why now of all times, and so, so much more. He trotted up a little breathlessly to the two men but first things first. He looked between two of them and furrowed his eyebrows
"are you guys okay?" he asked worriedly. "a-and what is that" He asked, motioning to the thing intent on setting fire to the city, well, previously intent on setting fire to the city.