In Progress DW/ME: The False Redeemer (Spoilers)

*Commander, the Illusive Man wants you in the comms room. Says it can't wait.*

As always, he thought. “Whatever this is, it better be good. The last time I had a message from him, I nearly died. Again. “ He whispered to himself as the steel doors whirred and whisked around him like a puzzle. He punched in the command, which always made his heart rise to his throat. Every time he had to put that damned command in, it always meant he was gonna get shot at. Or worse.

The glass table dominating the room descended, and an orange grid surrounded Shepard as he stepped on the glass. A familiar figure appeared before him, in holographic pixels. Sharp, elderly eyes stared at him with what looked like cybernetics which only served to make him less human. He had an eternally burning cigarette in his hands, or perhaps went through an ungodly amount a day. He is seated relaxingly, but the man exudes an intense aura, and the massive star behind him didn't help much.

“Shepard, I've got another dossier you might want to look at.” The Illusive Man's voice is as monotone as ever, like a wise, uncaring old man.

“That it? No details?” This seemed weird; the Illusive Man usually has extensive files on everyone he suggests for the team.

“Not this time; all we've heard are rumours and myths. Only hard data we could find is his ship. A blue, wooden police box. Always looks for trouble.”

Shepard's brow furrowed. “This is a joke, right?”

“Far from it; some civilizations regard him as the Sainted Physician, and the ood hold him in high regard, almost like a deity. Intel says he's currently in the Citadel. If you manage to recruit him, the Collectors will be a cakewalk.”

“You really are confident in this guy and we don't even have a name or an alias. Far I know he's a madman with a box.”

“He goes by the name of The Doctor. Good luck, Shepard. You'll need it.” And with that, the hologram faded, and the room assembled itself back to normal. It was always good news for him when there's a potential recruit against the Collectors, especially someone the Illusive Man trusts that much. Too much. Something didn't sit right. He could've just recruited this Doctor instead of spending two years rebuilding him, not for a lack of gratitude, but he is usually efficient.

“You okay, Commander?” Jacob's voice snapped Shepard from his trance.

“Yeah, just fine.”

“Seems odd for the Illusive Man to lack actual intel on someone he suggested for our team. Think it's a trap?”

“Whatever it is, this Doctor sounds impressive. Joker, get us to the Citadel.”

*Aye aye, Captain.*

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The Presidium, afternoon. The artificial sky shines as brightly as it always does, reflecting on the serene waters of the lake. The pathways are meticulously polished, and all manner of alien life walk in and out of buildings, but none seem to be in any hurry. In the middle stands a replica of a mass effect relay, regarded as the last gift of the Protheans and the Milky Way's most expensive piece of art. In the Rapid Transport hubs, a distinct, whirring sound echoes through the empty parkway, disturbing the eerie silence. A keeper watches motionlessly as a great wooden box materializes from thin air. The whirring stops, and the keeper moves along, getting on with the day. The doors quickly swing back, revealing an oddly handsome young man, wearing a burgundy bow tie, accentuated by a striped polo shirt, red braces and a brown tweed jacket. Long, cotton trousers cover his long, stilt-like legs and his size 10 feet give him the silhouette of an old, crazy madman. His face, bright with wonder, is long, almost rubbery, with a pronounced chin and thick, floppy hair swept to one side. His smile stretches from ear to ear, and his darkened blue eyes lit like a neon flashbang.

“Ah, the Citadel. The throne of the Milky Way Council, home to the soon-to-be First Bountiful Human Empire and centre of galactic power. Lost of aliens around, be careful. Some bite, others charge, some crush you with their minds. Now, where's the nearest VI?”

“Doctor, why are we here?” Amy interrupted the rambling Doctor, poking around the walls and looking at the sights. Her face contrasted her friend's heavily; her usually happy eyes showing irritation, her red hair impeccably in place yet flowing down her shoulders, and her skin pale as white, accentuating her red hair and her lipstick. Her black overcoat hid her outfit, which for once was practical, in her mind. Boots for running, jacket for when cold, jeans so they don't rip, and a shirt she didn't like, in case it ripped.

“I mean, it looks cool and all, but sending us to the “centre of galactic power” spells trouble for you.”

“Yeah, and isn't anyone gonna notice a big blue human police box in the middle of their parking lot?” Rory butted in, closing the TARDIS behind him. He stood behind Amy, looking like a shy teenager out of place.

“Well, considering we've been running around saving time and space, we never really see any friendly aliens. And aliens here are used to this sort of thing. Besides, it's not like there's a world-ending alien hiding here.” The Doctor immediately rebuffed, not even stopping to catch his breath.

“Now, where do we go first? Amy? Rory?” He then asked, grinning like a child in a candy factory.

“To the restaurants?” Rory suggested.

“How do you even know there's a restaurant here? You probably can't eat the food.” Amy snapped back.

“There's a sign there, see? Leo's Diner, Zakera Level 26. No harm in trying.” The young man's face brightened a bit, seeing something vaguely familiar; English words.

“They say the Citadel restaurants are the best of the best. Come along Ponds, you only live once.” A chill ran down the couple's spine. It was like he was taunting them, seeing when they will crack and break the news to him. Amy accepted, petrified by her Doctor's words.

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