Valerunner
Probably shouldn't be here.
- Pronoun
- She/her
The young man smiled, his deep crimson eyes twinkled at the notion. "Hell yeah! Come on, Doc!" He barged the wooden doors open, and a barrage of smoke and neon lights slammed against him. Fowler could only look on in disbelief.
The air was thick and somewhat stingy, and above him lay massive skyscrapers, piercing the orange, polluted skies. Only a beam of light shone through the smog and the cold, steel architecture, and it barely reached the tiled pavement. A siren blared across the city, broadcasting what sounded like a war cry. In the distance, a faint sound of synchronized marching could be heard, followed eerily by gunshots, tuned with a surgical efficiency.
Fowler looked back inside the TARDIS with a bewildered look. "Doctor, I think we're in a military camp."
The air was thick and somewhat stingy, and above him lay massive skyscrapers, piercing the orange, polluted skies. Only a beam of light shone through the smog and the cold, steel architecture, and it barely reached the tiled pavement. A siren blared across the city, broadcasting what sounded like a war cry. In the distance, a faint sound of synchronized marching could be heard, followed eerily by gunshots, tuned with a surgical efficiency.
Fowler looked back inside the TARDIS with a bewildered look. "Doctor, I think we're in a military camp."