Infinite DC

“No way to control it! It’s totally automatic, whenever you’re around! I’m walking blindfolded, completely automatic, all of my systems are down! Down, down, down!”

Nina’s backside, obscured by the white-and-black plaid shirt tied at her waist, swayed to the tune of the Pointer Sisters. Her head bobbed from left to right, with her lengthy, black Joan Jett-styled hair sweeping along. She was watchful of the components inside the control console of Steven’s T.A.R.D.I.S., which she was on hands and knees modifying with her sonic screwdriver.

“Can we please cut this crap off?!” The vexing voice of Alyssa griped from outside the console structure.

An infuriated Nina crawled out from inside, nearly banging her head, to give a defiant stare to her preceding regeneration – a brown-haired, olive-skinned woman in a bright pink top and black shorts. “Don’t diss on my Pointer Sisters, Alyssa,” she growled.

As two latter regenerations of the Tinkerer, Nina and Alyssa were as intellectual as their original incarnation, Steven Curtsinger, yet they differed vastly in personas. Whereas Nina was the fun-loving type with a passion for dance and music, Alyssa was more focused and straightforward.

That much was obvious since Min recruited them for this undertaking.

“There should be twelve of us working here,” Alyssa voiced her grievance. “Five of us busting our butts is not enough.”

“There’ll be more – just you wait and see,” Nina confidently guaranteed. “Before you know, Sanders will be on her way here with Skeeta.”

Alyssa scoffed. “She’s sure taking her sweet time.” She then switched gears and addressed in a very sour tone, “And exactly how is Philip useful again? The last regeneration of us, and he’s a total geek!”

“Oh, leave the lil’ fella alone,” Nina defended. “I think he’s cute.”

“Cute?” Alyssa cringed. “Honey, Dwayne Johnson’s cute – and I would’ve appreciated it more if we’d regenerated into him.”

Nina tittered. “Philip is the perfect definition of what it means to be a tinkerer.”

Alyssa disapprovingly shook her head, unable to bring herself to agree.

And she did not have to with the disruption that vigorously blew into the immense console room. Min and Philip returned with Steven and Shel in tow, as well as the other five accumulated regenerations of Neas and their companions.

“So what’s the plan for dealing with Davros and his armada?” Alyssa asked Steven and Min directly, paying no mind to Philip.

Isabel shuddered. “Davros is involved now?!”

“And did you say he’s got an armada?!” Cara exclaimed, dreadfully emphasizing that last term.

“Who – or what – is Davros?” Harry questioned.

“Think Lord Voldemort, only a gazillion times worse,” Maureen streamlined.

“Bloody hell,” Ron nervously respired.

“To answer all concerns, yes, Davros will be here with a Dalek fleet,” Steven stated. “He’ll undoubtedly use the T.A.R.D.I.S.es he’s obtained through the other incarnations of you they’ve captured to create a cross rift in space and time, big enough to allow his armada to storm into the dimension.”

“If his armada is as big as I think it is, then that cross rift could tear the very fabric of reality,” Barry circumspectly theorized. “And not just this reality, but an infinite number of them.”

“Well, that sounds absolutely terrifying,” Gumball said. “But check out the big brain on you!” He enthusiastically nudged Barry on the hip.

Barry grinned. “I…I have a bit of experience in dimensional rifts.”

“Trust him, he does,” vouched Kara.

“I realize the disastrous influence a rift that size can have,” Steven accredited Barry’s observation, “but I also believe we can use it against Davros and his fleet. We call in more reinforcements, strengthening the beacon enough to broaden the signal and reverberate it across the infinite D.C.”

“Uh, excuse me, Pop?” Cara said, raising her hand to direct everyone’s attention to her. “What other reinforcements could we possibly call on?”

“I’m willing to bet there’s more of you out there with even more experience and companions to overwhelm Davros and his armada,” Steven wagered.

“I doubt that,” Maureen rejected. “I’m the last of my regenerations – the twelfth overall – and Time Lord biology shows we’re only allowed twelve regenerations.”

“But you’re not the last,” Philip told her. “There’s a thirteenth regeneration of you out there, and her name’s Sanders. We’ve met her. She’s the one who helped make all of this happen.”

Maureen’s jaw dropped at this news; she was speechless with disbelief but, most of all, elation.

“Steven, you said we’re gonna strengthen the beacon,” Min said. “How are we gonna do that, when we’re already exhausting enough energy from your Type-X T.A.R.D.I.S. as it is?”

“Simple,” Steven brimmed with confidence. “We use the available Type-Z models we have. Collectively, they have enough energy to boost the signal.”

Catching on with her father’s idea, Rhyanna shared in his conviction.

“Sounds ace, Pop,” she said. “Let’s get to our T.A.R.D.I.S.es, grab some connector cables, and give it a go!”

Cara winced uncomfortably. “Wouldn’t ‘T.A.R.D.I.’ be the more appropriate plural form of ‘T.A.R.D.I.S.’? ‘T.A.R.D.I.S.es’ just sounds so weird! Like, you don’t say ‘Jedis’ when referring to more than one Jedi.”

She continued in her ranting while following Rhyanna, Isabel, Lindy, and Maureen out of Steven’s T.A.R.D.I.S. and to each of their own.

Watching them depart, a puzzled Darwin scratched his head and looked to Bugs. “Excuse me, Mister Bunny,” he said. “But do you have any idea what’s going on?”

Bugs shook his head. “Not a clue, shrimp.”

“Uh, just for reference, he’s a goldfish, not a shrimp,” Gumball told Bugs.

With so many of the ship’s occupants pointlessly communing among themselves, including his Hogwarts peers, Draco Malfoy seized in the opportunity of sneaking out of Steven’s T.A.R.D.I.S., following the exit of Rhyanna, Isabel, Lindy, Cara, and Maureen. He managed to do so, utterly unnoticed.

Lauren fought the unbearable impulse to walk right up to Kristin, standing there across from her and keeping to herself from the overcrowding number of captives. It disgusted her to think that Davros and the Daleks would have the gall to abduct her, just to use her to control Neas and his other lives.

If anything she wanted to do for her there and then, it was comfort her.

Luckily, Candace had it covered.

Her face was the only true proverbial one that Kristin needed right now.

“You holdin’ up okay, Ma?” She examined.

Kristin put on the best smile she could for her. “I’m hangin’ in there, hon. I’m just thankful you’re here, even though I don’t want you to be. I suppose if there’s any bright side to this, it’s that we’re back together. I just wish your father…” She choked, tears welling up.

“They didn’t get him also, did they?”

“No. He’s…” Kristin could not bring herself to reveal to Candace about her father’s Time Lord background. She instead shifted the discussion back on her daughter, explicitly centering on her hardened physique. “My goodness! Look at you!” She cupped her hands at Candace’s biceps, squeezing them. They were like solid rocks to her gentle touch. “You’ve grown into quite the amazon!”

Candace chortled. “Yeah. It was more Gallifreyan science than good ol’ family genes. Rassilon turned me into his personal weapon for the Time War – made me into the Gladiator I am now.”

“We should’ve never allowed the Doctor to take you to Gallifrey. Had you not gone…I mean, if I had known about any of what’s happening now beforehand…I would’ve done everything to keep you safe back on the farm.”

“Ma, it’s alright. Truth be told, I’m grateful for the chance of growing up on the very planet where I was born. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been on all the adventures that have turned me into the brave woman I am here and now.”

Kristin lovingly beamed. “Oh, sweetheart. I always thought of you as a brave one, long before then.”

Candace’s hearts touched from her mother’s sentiment.

The poignant scene between them was shortly disrupted, thanks to Lauren, who approached Kristin purposely.

“Everything okay?” She caringly inspected.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Kristin maliciously snapped at her. “My daughter here was gracious enough to check on me, not that it’s any business of yours, young lady!”

“Ma,” Candace scolded.

“I’m sorry,” Kristin grumbled. “But we’re packed up in here with total strangers – I don’t care if some of them are just you with other faces – and I just lost my farm to a bunch of Daleks!”

“What?!” Candace and Lauren simultaneously exclaimed to the unsettling news.

“And I’m startin’ to feel like this is all your father’s fault,” Kristin told Candace.

“Don’t say that, Ma,” Candace said. “If Pop were here, he’d try everything to get us out of this.”

“I really wish I could believe that, sweetheart,” Kristin refuted. “But he’s made too many mistakes in the past that we’re takin’ all the heat for.”

Lauren could not have felt more ashamed of herself, listening to the justified rantings of her wife from her original life. In fact, her entire day has been one huge consequence to her past actions.

“She’s right,” she guiltily muttered. “My secrets…my actions…I’ve made too many faults that have rippled across the universe. All I can say is that I’m sorry.”

Kristin quizzically frowned at the guilt-ridden young Englishwoman. “What’re you babblin’ about?! Who are you?!”

Lauren shrugged, lightly chuckling. “I’m beginning to ask myself the same question.”

She turned away, retreating back to the corner of the cell she emerged from.

“See what I mean?” Kristin refocused on Candace. “There are some unbelievable weirdoes in here.”

Candace did not look away from Lauren, following her retreat.

There was something about the young woman she recognized in the way she folded from Kristin’s condemning tongue, which was not even directed at her.

“Excuse me for a sec, Ma.”

Leaving her side, she joined over to Lauren’s.

Without the slightest bit of hesitation, she consciously whispered to the English blonde, “Pop, is that you? You’re a Time Lord?!”

Lauren’s crystal blue eyes widened at her awareness.

“How did you know it was me?”

“Well, from the way you just caved to Ma back there, it was pretty obvious. Plus, you’ve been always known to do that, whenever she blames you for something.”

Lauren side-eyed the nearby Kristin. “Not to her, it seems.”

“Why don’t you just tell her? She’s right there.”

“She’s going through enough stress with this situation we’re in. Outright telling her that I’ve regenerated again – for the second time, as a woman – would only put her further through the ringer.”

A short distance from the two conversing blondes was Kimbyr, secretly fiddling with her smartphone – an act that caught the surprise of Margie, Lindsay, and Autumn.

“You mean the Daleks actually let you keep that?!” Lindsay probed.

“More like they failed to,” Kimbyr said, her emerald eyes not once diverting from the bright touchscreen. “I kept it in a very safe place.”

“What place is that?” Autumn enquired.

Kimbyr coyly smirked. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Can you get a signal?” Margie asked.

“I can,” Kimbyr confirmed. “Long before this mess hit the fan, I amplified the signal to reach out across dimensions – and I managed to pick up on Min’s signal. I threw a text message over to her just now.”

“Who’s Min?” Lindsay quizzed.

“More importantly, will she be able to help us?” Margie added.

Kimbyr despairingly sighed, pocketing her phone away. “I don’t even know. All we can do now is hope she gets my message.”

“C’mon, Greg. Please try to snap out of it.”

The women’s attention was mutually drawn nearby to Wirt, who was crouched right in front of his catatonic half-brother, Greg. Dwonch was there beside Greg as well, cuddling him.

Not one to ignore a child in need, Kimbyr came to Wirt’s aid, with Margie, Lindsay, and Autumn following close behind.

“What’s the matter with him?” she asked.

“H-He was scared stiff, watching a four-armed monster tear grown men literally to pieces,” Wirt described.

Margie grimaced. “Did you say ‘four-armed monster’?”

“Yeah,” Wirt acknowledged. “His name was Goro.”

“Raiden and I fought him at the farm,” Lindsay forlornly told her preceding regeneration. “He didn’t make it out of the fight.”

Margie wished Lindsay had not relayed that information to her. From her point of view, those events had yet to occur. With the timelines out of sync, she would forget all about it; but she would first have to make it out of their predicament alive. She would rather not let the notion of Raiden’s death be the last thing on her mind before dying herself.

After getting over her grief, she refocused on the petrified little boy in front of them. Nodding to him, she asked Wirt, “What’s his name again?”

“Gregory,” Wirt replied. “But I usually call him ‘Greg.’”

“Lemme see what I can do,” Margie volunteered, taking Wirt’s place in front of Greg and placing her fingers against his temples.

Wirt, Lindsay, Kimbyr, Autumn, and Dwonch all watched as she closed her eyes and employed a type of telepathic link between herself and Greg. Lindsay and Kimbyr knew Time Lords were capable of such a feat, at least from what they were taught by the Doctor. One unique use for it involved hypercubes, a Time Lord form of communication that physically resembled white cubes, able to store a Time Lord’s thoughts or speech before sent across time and space.

Margie’s link with Greg lasted for as little as a few seconds until…

“WHOA!” Greg yelped, inadvertently silencing the other captives. “I had the coolest dream!” He pointed to Wirt. “You were there!” And then to Lindsay. “And you were there, too!”

Margie reopened her eyes, smiling.

“He’s…He’s alright!” A jubilant Wirt cheered. “I-It’s like he doesn’t remember.”

“Remember what, Wirt?” Greg asked.

“Nothing,” he told his brother. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Of course I am,” said Greg, who afterward reached into his lime green overalls and retrieved a handful of candy. “Any you guys want some?”

“I’d love some,” Margie consented, taking a piece from the child. “Thank you.”

It was the happiest little moment under the grimmest of conditions.

Unfortunately, as they were, it was short-lived.

The hiss of the opening cell door became a cause for concern for the captives, considering that it meant bad news every time.

All eyes centered on it, just as Neas returned, escorted by two Daleks.

Once he was in, the Daleks departed and resealed the cell shut.

Neas had not anticipated such a “warm welcome” as the one he got with all of his fellow hostages crowding around him and showering him with desperate questions, like reporters at a press conference:

“What happened?”

“How long are they gonna keep us here?”

“Why did she want to talk to you?”

“Did she hurt you?”

“Did you try to negotiate with her?”

“What’s going to happen to us?”

Neas did his best to calm the large ensemble before him, but his voice could not carry over all the frantic, overlapping queries. The best he could do was shout at the top of his lungs, “QUIET!”

And he got exactly as he requested, not a minute after.

Clearing his throat, he continued, “It wasn’t much of a conversation – more like a personal proposition that I’m not going to detail on. All I know is that the Daleks are taking us to the arena.”

“What arena?” Mars asked.

“LeMarier didn’t tell me,” Neas said, “only that they intend for us to fight to our death inside it.”

“To our death?!” Andy cried in panic, clinging tearfully to Brand.

“If that be what those bilge rats desire of us, then me and my crew will go down fightin’!” Willy declared to the eager roar of his men.

“I don’t wanna fight to my death!” Rigby whimpered. “Can’t we talk this over with them?!”

“Talk nothin’!” Finn aggressively disputed. “Let’s just kick their butts!”

“We don’t even know if they have butts, man,” Jake said. “Did you even get a good look at their cans? They’re actually cans!”

“I don’t think any of you guys have to worry,” Neas convinced them. “You’re all only leverage.”

“Gee, thanks,” Benson sardonically uttered.

“No, he’s right,” Sanders supported. “The Daleks are forcing only the regenerations of the Gladiator to do battle, not their companions.” She then morosely added, “And they could mean for us to fight each other to the death.”

The possibility angered Lindsay. “They don’t have the guts to kill us themselves, so they want us to do the job for them. What a bunch of—!”

Her expletive was cut off by the hiss of the cell door, once again opening to permit the visitation of Davros, Dalek Vec, and a few other enforcers. Their presence in the cell was met with more intensity than previously, knowing what they had in mind for the prisoners.

“Dalek Vec,” Davros beckoned.

“YES, MY MASTER!”

“You will escort the Gladiators to the teleport, once after I have selected three of their companions to join them.”

“IT SHALL BE DONE, MY MASTER!”

“So much for ‘leverage,’” Benson gritted to Neas.

The captives tensed more than ever, as Davros proceeded to survey them, his chariot whirring through the collective. Some of them fretfully parted, not desiring to be hand-picked by the mad, deformed man.

After minutes of mental torture, it appeared that he made his first selection, edging dangerously close to Clarence. The pudgy ten-year-old was terrified already of him by his monstrous appearance; the prospect of being forced into fighting to his death was a cruel joke at his expense.

Mandy did her best to shield him with her body, yet Davros tested her, circling his chariot around them.

Lauren’s fists clenched in viewing this repulsive scene of the Dalek creator toying with Mandy and the frightened child. “Davros,” she screamed, bringing the spectacle to a much-needed end. “You’re a bully, you know that? No, you’re worse than a bully – you’re a coward! Enlisting children to fight for your sick pleasure!”

His inquisitiveness now fixated on the young English blonde, Davros honed his chariot in towards her.

“Your voice…could it truly be you? My Tinkerer?” He insatiably rasped. “You have chosen a new face since our paths formerly crossed – much younger and feminine – a reflection of your beautiful mind. The same mind I owe to the Dalek Empire’s discovery of trans-dimensional travel. And, as a gesture of my gratitude, you shall be my first choice in accompanying your Time Lord offspring in the arena.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

It was a bold-faced lie, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of reveling in having the upper hand on her. From his disgruntled expression, her efforts paid off.

“Steven?”

She turned her head and glimpsed over to Kristin, hearing her utter the name of her original self. The look of realization on her face broke her hearts; all Lauren could do was regard her with apologetic eyes.

Meanwhile, Davros was far from finished.

There were still two more to choose for the arena.

He operated his chariot to where Dwonch sat with Greg and Wirt.

She figured ahead of time that the creep would be heading her way; and if he attempted to do the same to Wirt and Greg that he did with Clarence, hell was coming at him from a decorated war veteran.

“You,” he spoke to her, thankfully.

Dwonch gave a soft sigh. She whispered to Greg, “Stay with your brother, sweetheart.” Giving him a kiss on the forehead, she stood up and faced her executioner. “So we talking, Hawking?”

“Your dexterity and definition are manifest signs of combat experience,” Davros observed of her.

“I haven’t got all day, you prick,” Dwonch barked. “Are you gonna pick me for your little thunderdome or are you gonna keep kissin’ my butt? You’re at the right height for that second option.”

Her feistiness only entertained Davros; it was an expected habit for a human.

One left for the choosing.

His chariot whirred across the room, its destination targeted for Sloth, who had kept with his mother and brothers.

“And the grotesquely malformed human…”

“NO!” Gen cried.

“Back off, freak!” Agatha screeched. “You’re not taking my boy!”

“Ma!” Sloth demandingly moaned, moving his mother aside. He pounded a fist to his chest and said, “Big boy now! Go and fight!”

“Sloth, don’t go,” Chunk appealed, growing to respect the one member of the Fratelli family capable of kindness. “You’ll die.”

Sloth’s gapped smile flashed to the boy who recently became his only friend.

“Chunk stay safe.”

It was all he could tell him before Davros’ Dalek enforcers escorted him, Dwonch, Lauren, and the few regenerations of the Gladiator out of the cell.

“Hey,” Brand called to Davros. “What about the rest of us?”

“Yeah, what happens to us?” Mordecai asked.

“I assure you all will be well cared for, after the deaths of your saviors.”

The remaining captives were left with this ominous reassurance as the Dalek creator departed from the cell, the door shutting behind him.