"That’s a Cybermen," the Doctor told her, "Metalic beings who wish to turn all humans into cybermen like them. They are like us, except with all feelings and emotions removed. They believe they are a perfect species, and so they wish to make all other living species perfect such as them."
The Doctor looked around, “We have to find a way to stop them. There has to be some sort of reason they are here besides just conversion. Usually, they have some form of plan to gain their goal. I need to figure out why they chose this place in particular to come to, that way I can stop them.”
The Doctor was concerned. There were only a few of them, which was not normal for the cybermen. Usually, they brought entire armies, and why this place? There was nothing special about it compared to other places, and why this time period? The Doctor could think of way better time periods for the Cybermen to start working on. It was a strange situation and the Doctor wanted to know more.
His mouth was open, about to speak, but his voice was lost as his hands waved about awkwardly about in the air. Metal beings that were once human? Sounded like some strange sort of magic and he wasn’t too keen on dark magic entering his kingdom (he dealt with that too much already). Blinking his eyes owlishly, he wrung his hands as he turned to this Doctor fellow next to him.
"W-what can I do? C-can they be ridden of?" he asked quickly, keeping his dark eyes on the thing before glancing over to the man beside him.
He didn’t want his kingdom to be hurt by these things—they could have their dark magic and keep it to themselves, thank you very much. The Duke blinked again, feeling the sudden urge to call for the guards, but since this man knew what those things were, he ought to ask him.
"S-should I call for the guards?"
Phillip squinted up at the bespeckled Grand Duke until he was one huuuundred percent positive the man wouldn’t peek. He waved a hand in front of him, pinched his cheek even, and only after a few of pokes and prods the little prince lit up when he, officially, knew they were at play.
He hopped down from the desk, juuust missing a terrible ink bottle spill, and scrambled and tripped his way out of the room.
Of the first hiding place, Phillip was certain the Duke would never find him, not if he were given ten years. It was just outside the man’s study, where against the halls there lay a tapestry-framed window. Phillip hid behind that tapestry, sniffling quietly against the dust and tucking his little toes in as much as he could.
He felt a sharp pain in his flesh, and—with closed eyes—swatted away the little hand that was assaulting him. What on earth was this boy doing? The Grand Duke paused in his counting, eyes still sealed shut, and then spoke in a dry as sandpaper tone:
"Your highness, last time I checked we were playing a game. Run along before I reach thirty."
He felt his thin lips turn up into a smirk before he had resumed in counting. It wasn’t long until he heard the pitter-patter of quick footsteps fading into the distance, and he took this time to relax in his plush chair. Linking his long fingers together, he continued to count loudly so the little boy could hear him speak.
"Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!" Pausing, he opened his eyes, they darted to the open door and a grin stretched across his face. "Ready or not, here I come."
Theodore stood up, tucking his hands behind his back and he poked his head out of his office. Down the hall he could see a maid dusting some table and vase, humming to herself. His eyes flickered over her approvingly before glancing down the other way of the hall.
Dare he say he was enjoying this.
Sighing, the wolf resigned himself to his position, muscles tensing every now and again when the stinging alcohol met his skin. The sound eased him somewhat and made him feel suddenly quite small. He still wasn’t feeling completely pleased about this whole situation, but he would endure for the time being.
Maugrim listened quietly to the explanation, groaning audibly as he was informed that this would not be the only time that he would have to go through this unpleasantness. Even so, he wasn’t in a position to argue with the man, and what he was saying sounded reasonable enough. Though, there was still a quiet, nagging, part of Grim’s mind that felt like this was some kind of trick. Still, this was awfully far to go, and why not just let him perish in the woods? No, for now he would tentatively give his trust to this human, however much the though made him taste acid.
So focused on ignoring the smell of his wounds, Grim almost didn’t hear the question. He’d wanted to finish this up in as much silence as he could manage, but seemed that wasn’t going to happen. Sighing, the wolf considered lying, but what good would that do? He was a pretty distinct looking creature. Besides, if he decided later that he didn’t want to be found he knew he could easily keep himself hidden from even the best trackers.
"My name is Maugrim," he said, his voice still proud though the force of it was lessened somewhat by his condition. Not picking up his head, he fixed the man with his own gaze, allowing himself to indulge in some of his own curiosity.
"And what about you? I suppose hunter or human doesn’t do service to whatever title you hold in this society?"
Maugrim. That was a strange name.
The Duke pulled away the thick fur to see the healing wound—puffy, red, and unclean, the Duke pressed the soaking cloth to it, holding it there for a few moments before pulling away to allow the opening to breathe slightly. Carefully, he used the tips of his fingers to pull at the opening, seeing some dried blood around the healing flesh, and he carefully cleaned it away.
"Maugrim," he parroted softly. "It’s a strong-sounding name." It was, to be honest—it did sound like something a proud wolf would call himself.
His eyes remained on task as he cleaned away the caked on blood and dirt as he then poured a little of the wine directly on the wound. He watched it fizz and bubble before moving closer to the animal’s neck, where he saw a large, healing gash. Folding the stained rag over, he poured fresh wine onto it before pressing it to the wound.
Theodore found himself chuckling at the wolf and turned to him with an amused expression on his features. “Well, ‘human’ and ‘hunter’ are terms of what I am, but my name is Theodore Olivier Carriveau, the Grand Duke of this country.”
Mozenrath glanced about the palace, bored and unamused. Fine, let her hide here, burrow and trick men into power. Political power was far easier to destroy than magical power. He gave the man the shallowest of bows.
"I will leave, but her stigma will not. I advise you to take care sir…?"
"G-get out. Just go."
He had enough. Inhaling sharply, he loathed this man already, and he didn’t know much about him. But he understood where he came from—he was on behalf of Corona, and that meant like everyone else, they despised Gothel, just like he used to when she told him what she had done. He was there, he knew those emotions, but he had seen past them and saw her for who she was now and not what she used to be.
Many, however, did not.
But the deed was done—this man had left a bitter taste in his mouth and he didn’t desire to have him around here any longer.
"Well!" She glanced him to him shortly. "I zeenk I better get back to cleaneeng before miss Prudence gets all fussed up on why I have not yet finished cleaning ze windows." Fleur waved her rag, now damp, nearly dry.
"A-ah, yes, of course."
He’d been bothering her for too long now. Reaching up, he smoothed back his hair and gave her a light bob of the head. Placing his hands behind his back, he moved forward a few steps before turning around to look at her.
"I’ll let you get back to what you were doing, dear," he said with a slight grin. "And if Prudence is being a tad too hard on you, you can talk to me about it. Take care."
And with that, he went down the hall and towards the direction of the grand staircase. And at the back of his mind, he wondered where Gothel had run off to.
"My dearest Gothel, of course. Who else would there be?"
"The answer would be no. I do understand why people would want to be immortal: some fear death and fear the wrath of a God that they just happen to believe in. Some don’t want to leave the living and desire to be here. I can see the appeal, but I don’t think I would wish to live forever. After a while, I could see myself becoming bored and wishing for death. Sometimes things have to end and I must accept my own mortality. It used to scare me when I was younger, but I’ve grown to appreciate this life more because of it. And if there is an afterlife, I’ll just see my loved ones once more. And if there isn’t, we live on in other’s memories. So, in that way, I suppose we are immortal."
thegrandpompouswindbag replied to your post:(Toontown/Who Framed Roger Rabbit!AU) Do you hang out with the other Princesses?(WFRR ask. *silently gasps*)
I know! I my face lit up when I got this ask because, not only is it an interesting one, I’m also studying WFRR soon! ; w ;
(Only the best film, man. I love how they overlapped the animation and used all those puppets. ;.; I heard they were going to do a prequel. I hope it hurries up!)
Glaring at him, Gothel scoffed with anger. Perhaps she would feel hatred even if she didn’t know who he really was.
"It’s not just boredom. If it was just boredom, I could have plenty of things to fulfill my life. But that’s the thing, my life has nothing fulfilling. It’s absolutely meaningless. I will die probably being nothing more than someone who might as well be faceless. The only one who would even care would be my boyfriend and I’m not even sure if it would truly matter to him."
She stared at Slug sadly, knowing he didn’t see the connection, but that wasn’t important. It wasn’t like she was going to let the truth slip. She couldn’t let that happen.
"I need something greater than my feeble reality. I’ve always been addicted to adrenaline, addicted to chaos, but in my own skin, I can never fulfill that side of me. I have to remain the tiny, useless, quiet mouse. But when I take on this persona, I’m so much better than that. I feel powerful, I feel satisfied, and people know who I am, they know my name. People feel such fear for this persona, such fear for Gothel and for someone like me, who’s always been told that I would amount to nothing, that I can’t even be taken seriously, do you know how amazing fear feels for me?"
His tail trembled, flicking from side to side as he listened to her. At the back of his mind, he wondered who this boyfriend was and where he was. Part of him wished to find the man and tell him all this generous information Gothel had spewed, and hope that he would do something about it. But Slug knew that was impossible—he had a hard time chasing her let alone stalking her. And besides, he’d feel dirty for doing so.
"I’m sure your boyfriend loves you very much—o-or has strong feelings for you. I don’t think you’re meaningless to him, I’m quite positive that you mean the world to him. M-my girlfriend sure does mean the world to me. I do care for her greatly."
Had he just mentioned a part of his personal life to her? Was he mad? But he remained still, calm, and sure that she wouldn’t do anything with this information. His eyes narrowed, staring at her with worry and doubt. Shifting, he began to worry about her state of mind as his dark eyes took her expression and language in.
"I am … concerned that this is the only way you can feel some happiness with your life, that you need to scare people, make them run in fear, and feel the rush of power through you. This is concerning, Gothel, a—and I think you need help."
Gothel saw he was leaning his head over hers and she cringed, trying to back away further. However it was to no avail, because the slime from his lips began dripping into her hair. She whimpered, before huffing in annoyance.
"You just had to do that, didn’t you?" she scoffed, pressed against the wall as much as possible. She watched him, listening to his driven speech and usually she would refuse to respond. However, today was different. Today she was much more on edge than usual and she was somehow more sensitive. "It’s not like I kill them." she interjected.
He kept going on and on and being different from her usual ignoring as a response, she glared at him with further aggravation.
"I am tired of you telling me this over and over and prodding me, trying to get an answer out of me! ‘Go out and be a good citizen’ you tell me. Has it ever occurred to you that behind this mask, I am one already? Why do you really think I do this? Every day I’m a good little citizen like you say I should be and I deal with annoying people and boring people. And you know what, I do have a boyfriend, but I don’t know if that relationship is even going anywhere! All we do is go out and eat, or sit at home and eat or do whatever else boring, average couples do. We’re not even having sex! On days I don’t go out and do this, I wake up, go about my dull, average day and then sleep. I have a life that is pointless and meaningless. There I sit in my gilded little birdcage knowing that I am nothing important or exciting, So sometimes I have to escape from that reality! That is my answer!"
She had snapped.
He was used to her loud sounds. He was used to her altering car horns or her own words to magnify them into some ungodly ear-bleeding noise that made his head spin often. But this—this was unbridled rage. She was angry, upset—and for that moment, a real person. The large, heavy slug-like creature actually stepped away from her, his dark eyes wide as his jaw stood slack.
She had a boyfriend? She had an actual life? For so long he had envisioned her in some remote building, hiding away and every night plotting out her next attack, but he dare never thought that she had an honest life; that she was a citizen. He knew many supervillains came from broken homes or had something terrible happen to them, but she did it from shear boredom.
Staying silent, he stared at her as he then crouched to the ground like a house cat would sit. Cocking his head to the side, he peered at her with such a calm face. Frowning, he looked to his claws, unsure of what to say or do at that moment. He then lifted his head, tendrils twitching as he then spoke:
"I don’t think this boyfriend of yours would appreciate this. Look, I know reality can be boring at times, but there’s always a way to make life exciting."
She glared sharply at Slug, backing away as he suddenly tried catching her in his jaws.
"I’m tired of living as a decent person. I need something else to sustain me. This, this is what excites and thrills me. I don’t have that living as some ‘decent person’." she argued, huffing softly as she backed against the wall. "But I’m not playing with anyone right now. I haven’t done anything yet. So back off!"
Gothel folded her arms. Her confidence and anger was her attempt at keeping him at bay without hurting him.
Why wasn’t she running? Giving him a chase? Taunting him like she normally would?
This confused him, but he pressed on. He closed his mouth, advancing to her as he cornered her. He stopped, rearing his neck to place his head a mere few inches away from her face as he glared her down.
"But I know you’re going to do something, dear Gothel," he said, slime spilling from his lips as he spoke. "I know you too well, unfortunately. But what seems to be a mystery is why you enjoy this?" His face softened. "Can’t you give up your life of crime? G-go find a new life and maybe some handsome gentleman. I—I’m sure you’ll be happy."
His tail lowered to rest on the ground as he looked calmly at her.
"Hurting people for your own joy is sickening and wrong. You don’t have to be like this, Gothel, I’m sure you can be a good, working citizen if you tired. Please."
He wasn’t sure how many times he’d given her this speech, but he felt the constant need to do such a thing almost every time he met her. Today was no exception.
She hadn’t even been paying attention. Through her running, she had lost track of where she was even going and now she found herself in an alley. Even worse, she began hearing a familiar voice. Just great.
Swiftly turning around, Gothel looked for Slug. She knew he was there somewhere. He had to be with the way he was yelling like that. The woman tried tracing the sounds of his footsteps, trying to figure out what direction they were coming from. She looked up an around before looking up again, seeing his face.
She huffed slightly, glaring.
"Can we not do this today?"
He lifted his neck to spot her glowering at him with that peeved little stare of hers and he returned the favor. Swallowing thickly, he stood to his feet and approached the balcony of the rooftop to peer at her with a stern expression and a tall tail.
"I could ask you the same thing!"
Slug cleared his throat, padding around for a bit before deciding to follow her. Since she was down in the alleyway, he thought that it would be easy to catch her if he was quick enough. He eyed her like a cat would eye a mouse, and his tail gave several loud smacks against the hard rooftop of the towering structure before jumping down to a much smaller building.
"If you would behave, this wouldn’t be such an issue. Then maybe we could go on with our lives as decent people."
The lumbering beast licked his lips as he narrowed his eyes at her. Jumping down to meet her, he snarled before reaching out to snap his jaws at her.
The police had cornered Gothel to some abandoned fish place. How unfortunate. It smelled absolutely awful. It was difficult to truly corner her however, especially since she had the ability to control the sound around them. Just as they surrounded her in a wide circle that was closing and becoming smaller, she created a diversion.
A loud, crashing sound appeared behind them, as if a building had been attacked. Predictably, most of them looked but a few didn’t. Still, she managed to get away. She leaped into the air out of the circle and began running towards the main city. Of course it was impossible to leave without being chased by those who hadn’t been fooled by the crashing sound.
Luckily, it was easy enough to escape. With a thought, she sent the frequencies around them up to a loud, high pitched level and the shrill noises soon brought them to their knees. She laughed as she looked back for a moment before continuing to run.
Slug wasn’t fooled by this. Ignoring the sound and looking to the air, he spotted her moving towards the inner city and gave chase. Panting heavily, he padded after her as he heard some of the police disperse and move in the same general direction. He could feel his slick skin start to ooze a thick slime, and it wasn’t long until he was leaving behind a trail.
Tail flicking, the large beast entered an alleyway, and glanced down it. It was rather dark, trash littered the gravel and pavement, and he could faintly hear a pack of rats squeak and shuffle about through garbage cans. Slug cringed at the sight, but continued anyhow. He tiptoed around the trash and the gunk that littered the area as he called out angrily:
Hissing, he lifted his tail up as he decided to jump onto a stained and graffiti-covered wall, and start to slowly scale it. Panting when he reached the top, he allowed himself to bathe momentarily in the sun before glancing around for the villain herself.
Gothel’s mind games were starting to get on his nerves.
He would have figured that by now the police would have created a proper way to store her without her escaping, but it never happened. Growling low, he moved as fast as his short, fat limbs could take him to follow the little minx.
Slug really didn’t wish to spend his day like this—he’d rather be sleeping, or playing video games, or being with his girlfriend. Anything but deal with Gothel! Even be stuck in his office cubical reading walls of text all through out the whole day. At least he’d get paid for such mind-numbing work.
Panting heavily, he vaguely heard the sounds of sirens in the background as he glanced around in his surroundings. He was near the wharf at an old, rusting and abandoned fish factory. The sounds of seagulls crying and the metallic noises of swinging doors filled his senses, along with the old, musky smell of fish.
Cringing his nose, he stepped forward.