Prompt 176.4 for Oncoming Storms
Prompt 176.4:
The Doctor rocked up on the balls of his feet and back down, his face contorted in forced pleasantness (that was covering the effort that he was making at escaping his cuffs). He bobbed too and fro, generally looking jittery, if all too happy that he was being held in captivity in the dank, dark Judoon prison.
"Were the cuffs entirely necessary? Really? I thought in most civilized cultures you were expected to outline the charges before taking someone into captivity. Not mine of course. But that's entirely beside the point," he asked pleasantly of the Judoon next to him. It flicked an ear, turning its rhinoceros resembling head to scowl upon the Doctor with beady, harsh eyes even despite his friendly tone.
There was a beat of silence.
"Yes, well, I suppose that answers that question," he muttered, faux interest dimming as he scoured the rest of the room. Then a buzz, and whir. His captor had a device that was vaguely familiar to him.
"What's that?"
He didn't get a response. The Doctor frowned, and looked harder at the device. "Oh, Oh! It's a translator! Splendid! Perhaps now you'll speak with me." Delight! Still... The Judoon seemed to not hear him. That's okay. His hands were free from the cuffs now anyway.
Perhaps he shouldn't have been so talkative, then his captor wouldn't have seen that slow attempted sidle for the door he made, attention grabbed by sudden silence rather than any shifting sounds. And that certainly did it in for the Doctor's escape plans. He found the back of his white blazer firmly caught in the Judoon's hands, fabric wrinkled as he was yanked back and this time held until he could be placed in full shackles (which were heavier and far more uncomfortable than the cuffs).
That made his trip down the corridor to the judgment chamber far more inconvenient and troublesome. There was the annoying clatter clatter clatter of irons across hard flooring. More scowling as the gun jutted into his back every time he tried to slow in the slightest. Of course, he had to be treated in such a primitive fashion, and he made no secret of ranting about it all the way into the main room.
Already waiting was a Voord, a Wirrn, something with one eye (possibly from Proxima Centauri? He got them confused so often) and three Ogrons; all of which were similarly cuffed and unhappily fashioned into a line with him as the Judoon took position with his weapon in the darkened room. Damnable guns. The Doctor despised them! Always resorting to violence to make people behave.
“Jo-Ko-Lo-Ro-Sko-Ko!” a guard shouted, and the lights came on bright. He winced back as if something physically had been thrown in his face, nearly hiding against one of the hulking Ogrons he'd been placed between. Nearly, as some good sense stopped him from making this ridiculous mistake and getting pummeled by cuffed fists.
"Article KLT-5210 of the Palmati Accords dictates that you are to give me information!" the Doctor demanded tersely, balling his hands into fists as if he were larger than those very Ogrons and posed more of a physical presence.
The Judoon frowned (as well as he could frown, those muzzles seemed to have a perpetual expression of vague annoyance) as well as he could. And the device he'd had before whirred into action, providing a guttural replica of the man's own voice as he spoke but in a replica of the Doctor's own native language. "Prisoner 12255. Planet of Origin: Gallifrey. Species: Time Lord. Designation: The Doctor."
"Oh yes, I know where I am and where I'm from. I needn't reminding. But what did I do!?"
"You've been arrested for wielding a weapon of mass destruction."
"WHAT?" Utter, total, and unquestionable disbelief poured from the Doctor's mouth as it went agape.
"This." The Judoon motioned one of its comrades over, and in outstretched arms he presented-
-The Doctor's umbrella.
Character: The Seventh Doctor
Words: 661
Notes: A rewrite of 5th_Doctor's genius prompt about being arrested and tried.
The Doctor rocked up on the balls of his feet and back down, his face contorted in forced pleasantness (that was covering the effort that he was making at escaping his cuffs). He bobbed too and fro, generally looking jittery, if all too happy that he was being held in captivity in the dank, dark Judoon prison.
"Were the cuffs entirely necessary? Really? I thought in most civilized cultures you were expected to outline the charges before taking someone into captivity. Not mine of course. But that's entirely beside the point," he asked pleasantly of the Judoon next to him. It flicked an ear, turning its rhinoceros resembling head to scowl upon the Doctor with beady, harsh eyes even despite his friendly tone.
There was a beat of silence.
"Yes, well, I suppose that answers that question," he muttered, faux interest dimming as he scoured the rest of the room. Then a buzz, and whir. His captor had a device that was vaguely familiar to him.
"What's that?"
He didn't get a response. The Doctor frowned, and looked harder at the device. "Oh, Oh! It's a translator! Splendid! Perhaps now you'll speak with me." Delight! Still... The Judoon seemed to not hear him. That's okay. His hands were free from the cuffs now anyway.
Perhaps he shouldn't have been so talkative, then his captor wouldn't have seen that slow attempted sidle for the door he made, attention grabbed by sudden silence rather than any shifting sounds. And that certainly did it in for the Doctor's escape plans. He found the back of his white blazer firmly caught in the Judoon's hands, fabric wrinkled as he was yanked back and this time held until he could be placed in full shackles (which were heavier and far more uncomfortable than the cuffs).
That made his trip down the corridor to the judgment chamber far more inconvenient and troublesome. There was the annoying clatter clatter clatter of irons across hard flooring. More scowling as the gun jutted into his back every time he tried to slow in the slightest. Of course, he had to be treated in such a primitive fashion, and he made no secret of ranting about it all the way into the main room.
Already waiting was a Voord, a Wirrn, something with one eye (possibly from Proxima Centauri? He got them confused so often) and three Ogrons; all of which were similarly cuffed and unhappily fashioned into a line with him as the Judoon took position with his weapon in the darkened room. Damnable guns. The Doctor despised them! Always resorting to violence to make people behave.
“Jo-Ko-Lo-Ro-Sko-Ko!” a guard shouted, and the lights came on bright. He winced back as if something physically had been thrown in his face, nearly hiding against one of the hulking Ogrons he'd been placed between. Nearly, as some good sense stopped him from making this ridiculous mistake and getting pummeled by cuffed fists.
"Article KLT-5210 of the Palmati Accords dictates that you are to give me information!" the Doctor demanded tersely, balling his hands into fists as if he were larger than those very Ogrons and posed more of a physical presence.
The Judoon frowned (as well as he could frown, those muzzles seemed to have a perpetual expression of vague annoyance) as well as he could. And the device he'd had before whirred into action, providing a guttural replica of the man's own voice as he spoke but in a replica of the Doctor's own native language. "Prisoner 12255. Planet of Origin: Gallifrey. Species: Time Lord. Designation: The Doctor."
"Oh yes, I know where I am and where I'm from. I needn't reminding. But what did I do!?"
"You've been arrested for wielding a weapon of mass destruction."
"WHAT?" Utter, total, and unquestionable disbelief poured from the Doctor's mouth as it went agape.
"This." The Judoon motioned one of its comrades over, and in outstretched arms he presented-
-The Doctor's umbrella.
Character: The Seventh Doctor
Words: 661
Notes: A rewrite of 5th_Doctor's genius prompt about being arrested and tried.