Infinite DC

“You’re tellin’ me the same big black mook I almost shot back in the restaurant is this little girl right here?”

Jake Fratelli was the most abhorrent creature Shel had the misfortune of sharing breathing space with. His face hovering close to hers for study, as if she were some specimen under a microscope, she could smell whatever Italian dish he last ate in his hot, putrid breath.

Had his similarly infuriating mother not insisted on handcuffing her to the console platform railing, leaving her to sit on the floor with her arms suspended above her head, she would have slapped the taste right out of his disgusting mouth.

“They are one in the same,” the annoyed Sanders verified for Jake’s developing curiosity, operating at the T.A.R.D.I.S. controls while held at gunpoint by Francis. “Just as I am the same as them.”

Jake snorted a chuckle. “I’ll be damned. That’d explain why you kept me from shootin’ that big sucker back at the restaurant – you were literally savin’ your own butt.” She shot him a cold scowl that he was impervious to. “Gotta thank ya for that. Had I pulled the trigger, we wouldn’t have continued our little ‘business venture’ here.”

“Stop your flirtin’ with this freak!” Agatha shouted, her craggy voice even more unbearable within the boundaries of the console room.

“You’ve always got to ruin my moment, don’tcha, Ma?” Jake griped.

“We’re not usin’ her for your sexual urges!” Agatha yelled, a retort that made Francis snicker. “She’s only here to get us to that treasure. After that, we put a bullet right in that pretty forehead of hers.”

Needless to say, Sanders was perturbed from this public declaration.

“How’re we gettin’ to that treasure?” Francis’s inquiry went unanswered by Sanders, provoking him to firmly press his gun against the back of her skull. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, sweetheart.”

Sanders gave a discomforted sigh. “I’m taking us far into the past to steal it right under the nose of Willy himself.”

Jake busted a gut. “You’re kiddin’ me! This domino spaceship’s also a time machine?!”

“Impossible!” Agatha insulted.

“You just stepped inside of a ship that’s bigger on its inside, and you find that the ‘impossible’ part about it?” Sanders quipped.

“Why go back to the past?” Agatha asked. “Wouldn’t the treasure be buried somewhere in the present?”

“Those kids we met in the restaurant know about the treasure just as we do and are probably gunning for it, as we speak.” Sanders explained. “We’re going to get a century start ahead of them.”

This brilliant idea brought huge smiles to the Fratellis’ faces.

“You’re not such a bad alien after all, dearie.” Agatha approved. “Maybe we won’t kill ya…as long as you agree to put on some pants.” She then turned her attention to Francis and ordered, “Take your piece off her. She’s clean.” He hesitated on the command, infuriating her. “I SAID TAKE IT OFF HER!”

The forcefulness in her tone made Sanders quiver, yet it was effective enough for Francis to comply.

“Hey, Ma,” Jake said, gesturing to Shel. “Whaddabout this one?”

“She’s got no use anymore.” Francis declared. “Let’s off her right now.”

“Oh, great thinkin’, Einstein.” Jake scorned. “Did ya forget what we assessed earlier? That offin’ her would just kill her, too?” He pointed to Sanders, emphasizing his point. “And then we’d be without our treasure or a pilot.”

Sanders glimpsed at the handcuffed Shel.

She was scared and furious, the latter clearly directed at her for assisting the Fratellis in their hunt.

There was only one thing to do.

“Francis is right,” she said. “That one’s no use to us anymore, and we can’t risk her ruining our plans, now that she’s heard every bit of it.”

“So what do you propose we do about her?” Agatha probed.

Sanders reconfigured the controls, resetting their course.

“We’ll leave her in another dimension,” she recommended to the Fratellis. “Someplace where she won’t be bothersome to us. Somewhere she’ll be alone, without anyone to help her.”

“Sounds good to me.” Agatha concurred, as did her two boys.

A brokenhearted tear slowly streamed from Shel’s left eye.

They arrived a moment later to a world ravaged by desolation.

Nothing more than a wasteland of intense heat and dryness.

Although Shel was removed from her uncomfortable position at the railing, she remained detained while Sanders carried out the deed of escorting her miles out across the wasteland.

“Stop here,” she instructed, amidst the highest dune. “Now turn and face me.”

Shel did as she was commanded but not without a display of defiance, shown by spitting right into the face of Sanders.

“Traitor!” The girl branded of her. “You’ve betrayed all that your past lives stood for, helping those thugs…those… Daleks in human skin!”

Wiping the saliva off her face, Sanders guffawed.

“What’s so funny?!”

“You are. I forgot how quick-tempered you were.”

Fumed, Shel attempted to take a swing at Sanders with her cuffed fists.

Sanders caught her wrists in time and unlocked her handcuffs.

Shel watched them fall to the sand, buried in seconds by the strong winds that whipped over the grains.

“Now then,” Sanders began. “If you could take a moment to pull your head out of your butt and not try to kill me, you’ll understand why I escorted you miles out into this godforsaken land where those meatheads can’t hear us.”

Shel stood muddled over this sudden shift in her behavior.

All she could do was hear what she had to say.

“My plan – the one I tried to tell Neas about before Agatha so rudely interrupted me – is right in this world we’re standing now. This is where we’ll make our last stand against Dalek Vec.”

Shel gazed around at the terrifying place – it seemed like the right spot for a fight.

“Not far from us is an outpost,” Sanders continued. “There, you’ll find a woman named ‘Min.’ She’s created a beacon that will draw all the versions of us – past, present, and future – to this world. The only catch is it’ll also draw in Vec, but doing so will give us the window of opportunity in nailing his sorry butt for good.”

It all sounded too good to be true.

Shel eyed her suspiciously. “How do I know you’re for real on this? How do I know it’s not some sick way of giving me a false sense of hope before I die out here from thirst or starvation?”

Sanders scoffed at her paranoia. “Do you seriously think I’d let myself die?”

She had a point, but it did not stop Shel from cross-examining her further.

“We’re a smart bunch,” she said with folded arms and a smug expression. “You could’ve just as easily found a way to exist without your past regenerations. Or could you really be the Master?”

Sanders groaned. “Alright, alright. I get it. Here…”

From out of her right leg cover, she pulled out her own sonic screwdriver. It was a bigger, more polished design than the one Shel kept in her jeans pocket. It had gold and chrome plating, a blue tip, and a few blue orbs contained in a small cylinder near its end.

“Take this,” Sanders offered. “It’s pinpointed to Min’s beacon and will lead you right to her location.”

Shel accepted the Gallifreyan tool, her hearts swelling with contentment in the loyalty of her future regeneration.

Without hesitation, she leaped right into a hug with her.

“Thank you,” she softly said.

Sanders smiled. “Well, this is a lot better than getting mucus in my eye.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Meh, I had it comin’.”

The two women let each other go.

Sanders turned to depart. “I’d better get back before the Fratellis think something’s up. Remember, follow the signal and you’ll find Min and her outpost.”

Shel nodded in comprehension.

After spending a minute to watch Sanders leave for her T.A.R.D.I.S., she activated the sonic screwdriver entrusted to her. It produced a low whirring noise, facing the direction Sanders headed in. Gradually, she circled her body until the noise increased in pitch. Like a compass, it pointed her to the precise bearing she needed to go.

“Sanders, you are a true wonder.”

“What is taking her so long?!”

In his angst, Benson paced all around Neas’s console room, crowded from the presence of Mandy, Clarence, the rest of the Park crew, and Neas himself. Lauren Louise went right away to the T.A.R.D.I.S. wardrobe, spending hours in search for clothing suitable to her new body.

“Every second we just sit here is another that puts Shel in danger!”

“Benson, relax,” Neas said. “Nothing’s going to happen to Shel. She’s a regeneration before Sanders. I don’t believe she’d foolishly place her life at risk, knowing that.”

“I still can’t believe that muscled Amazon with the lack of dress code is what we’ll become one day,” Mandy panned. “She seemed mighty willing to help the people that shot at our father.”

Neas shrugged. “I can’t justify those actions, but I can trust she won’t let the Fratellis harm Shel. And I don’t suppose the Fratellis will harm her themselves, if they need someone to pilot that T.A.R.D.I.S. of hers.”

Following this rationalization, collective gasps could be heard from the main entrance, which Neas carelessly left open after everyone was inside. Because of his negligence, the kids of the realm they were currently present in – who refer to themselves as “Goonies” – curiously entered the Gallifreyan capsule and admired the dimensionally disproportionate interior.

“Oh, no, no!” Neas sternly hollered to the children. “This isn’t a tour bus! We’re not taking any more passengers than we necessarily have!”

“We’re comin’ with you guys.” Mikey determinedly avowed. “The Fratellis know about the treasure, thanks to your scantily-clad friend back there, and we’re not gonna let them take it.”

“These people shot a dude in cold blood.” Mordecai elicited. “Are you seriously going after them for some old treasure?”

“I said the same thing,” Brand uttered, “but there’s no changin’ Mikey’s mind, once it’s made up.”

“Well, try harder.” Neas suggested.

A horrified shriek from Andy drew everyone’s attention back to the main entrance where Gen, who Neas was appalled at himself for forgetting, arrived with one more commuter: Sloth.

“Friend. Come. With.” Gen decreed with that kind, loving smile Neas just could not say “No” to.

He felt a hand clasp his right shoulder, turning to see Mandy smugly grinning.

“This is why the T.A.R.D.I.S. is bigger on the inside,” she ribbed.

Another hour of waiting for Lauren brought Benson to his boiling point, his dome converting to a shade of red Mordecai and Rigby were all too acquainted with.

To ease his vexation, Neas headed to the T.A.R.D.I.S. wardrobe.

The space inside was as colossal as the rest of the ship, housing an endless range of apparel. Some were picked from previous travels or left by others who traveled with Neas. Most were designed to suit particular time periods or locations. Different levels, divided by a winding staircase, helped prearrange the assortment.

He found Lauren one level below, heaps of clothes scattered around her, including the bloodied Tuskegee uniform of her predecessor.

She just slipped on a fresh pair of black leggings but neglected to put on a shirt (or bra) beforehand.

“Aw, geez! Pop!” He griped, shielding his eyes. “Ya gotta remember to cover up those things!”

Lauren was initially lost on his meaning until she looked down and realized her lack of modesty. Quickly, she tried on the first available thing she could find – a cropped grey t-shirt.

“You can look now,” she permitted.

Neas unshielded his eyes, breathing in relief.

“Sorry, son. It was always so easy putting on pants first. Guess I’d better get into the habit, eh?” She sat herself on a nearby stool, finalizing her new look with ankle socks and black Nike shoes. “I know I’ve been up in here for quite a long time, and I’m sorry to keep everybody waiting. I just don’t know what young women wear nowadays. Being as old-fashioned as I am, and having lived so long into the 1940s, I’m at a loss.”

“Well, for one, girls normally wear bras,” Neas indicated before swiftly adding, “but you can work that out later – just try not to go into any cold areas for a while.”

Lauren gave an understanding nod. “O.K. Anything else?”

“You’re off to a good start with the leggings. I’ve worn a pair like those every regeneration or so – just not this one.”

Lauren tittered in amusement. “I had no idea what they were when I tried them on. I thought they were long underwear or somethin’. You mean to tell me girls wear these, knowing full well how much the booty shows in them?”

“I’m afraid that’s the whole point of them, Pop.”

She stood up from the stool, taking a gander at herself through the floor mirror standing beside her.

Her face blushed at the reflection. “Dear me. I feel so naked in all this.” She moved in close, hunched over, evaluating her new face for the first time. “Not a bad lookin’ kid I turned into though. No going back to 1943. The boys’ heads would turn, seeing their old flight lieutenant back as a young white Englishwoman.”

“Are you feeling alright, Pop? After regenerating?”

“The first time I did, it was a difficult experience – your mother can tell you. Thankfully, she was there to help me through it. But this…this will take some getting used to. I just hope the rest will handle itself. Other than that, I’m happy to be alive.”

Neas smiled. “Thank God for Time Lord D.N.A.”

Lauren pouted, turning away from the mirror and facing her son. “I’m sorry that I never told you who I was, all those years we fought in the war.”

“I understand now why. Fighting alongside my old man? It would’ve been a whole lot harder.” He radiated with sudden revelation. “Hey, now that we’re free from it all, how ’bout we catch up together, starting by going back to the old farm and seeing Ma again?”

“I…I don’t know, honey.” Lauren fretted. “Can you imagine how your mother would react to a fresh-faced English blonde and a tall black gentleman at her doorstep, claiming to be her husband and daughter – and in that specific order?”

Neas saw her point. “Well, doesn’t she already know how regeneration works by seeing yours up close?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Then problem solved.”

“I’ll…think about it.”

Neas moaned. It was always the response he would get from his father whenever there was something he wanted.

Out of the blue, muffled chirping came from beneath one of the surrounding piles of clothes.

“Do you hear that?” Lauren quizzed.

“Yeah, I do.”

Neas closely honed in on the noise, approaching one of the piles with Lauren at his side and removing the layers to expose the little Mogwai hiding beneath them.

Lauren gushed. “Awww! Who’s this dear little fella?”

“His name’s Gizmo. He’s a gift from an old shopkeeper I helped when I was still me…er, Candace, I mean.”

Scooping Gizmo out of the pile, Lauren cradled him tenderly in her arms.

“How’d you get all the way here, Gizmo?” Her speech verged on baby talk in her address to the tiny creature.

“I thought he was with Benson,” Neas said. “The poor guy must be so nervous about Shel that he let Gizmo slip out under his nose.”

Lauren giggled, enjoying every second in holding the Mogwai.

“I remember how much you wanted a pet around the farm,” she reminisced. “Looks like you finally got one. Though I can’t say your mother would ever approve. She always had the last say.”

“You wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on him, would ya?”

“Oh, I’m not letting this little fella out of my sight for one second.”

“Great. Just be sure to follow these three rules: don’t let him near bright lights or sunlight – they’ll kill him; don’t get him wet, because he’ll multiply into evil versions of himself; and last, this one’s most important, never feed him after midnight.”

Lauren’s mouth gaped in disbelief. “So much responsibility for such a cute little fella. How did you manage for so long?”

“Lots and lots of patience.” He faced towards the exit. “Ready to head back?”

“Wait,” Lauren beckoned. “We can’t go until you change, son.”

Neas chuckled. “Why bother?”

“Well, I just remember what Sanders said about us and our clothes back when we were in that basement. A wardrobe change would do you as much good as it did me. And, like you said, we aren’t fighting in World War II anymore.”

Without spending nearly the lengthy amount of time Lauren did, Neas committed himself to her suggested change of apparel. He knew precisely what contemporary attire he wanted to wear, having kept it in mind for several years.

When he and Lauren returned to the console room, he sported his new signature style: a black hoodie worn over an untucked purple shirt buttoned up halfway and a turquoise undershirt with a white trim; a loose blue-and-grey striped necktie; stonewashed blue jeans; and black polished dress shoes.

Silence and astounded gazes welcomed the pair in.

“What?” Neas asked them. “Lauren made me do it. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Mandy replied. “You both look so…different. Especially you, big man. You look like you stepped right out of a Gap store during clearance day.”

“Well, we all can’t be fashionistas, can we?” Neas jested, tugging the lapels of his hoodie. He shifted his focus on Lauren and the control console. “Pop, could we please get started on finding Sanders and Shel?”

She executed his request straightaway, moving to the console whilst popping her knuckles and going to work on the controls.

The launch back into the dimensional corridor went smoothly.

But then things got intensely rough, forcing every T.A.R.D.I.S. passenger to brace themselves as the room rocked back and forth.

“Skips, I thought you repaired this thing!” Rigby screamed.

“I did!” The yeti retorted.

“Well, you did a bang-up job at it!” Rigby belittled.

By a few speedy recalibrations, Lauren brought the bumpy ride to an end.

An instant thereafter, a knock reverberated from the closed doors – a gesture that distressed them all, specifically Lauren.

“We couldn’t have come out of the corridor already,” she disproved.

Neas braved himself to respond to the person on the other side, opening the T.A.R.D.I.S. doors.

His eyes enlarged with astonishment.

There in front of him stood a teenage girl with cropped red hair and thick-rimmed glasses, smiling.

“Sorry we bumped into ya’ll,” she cheerfully said, as if she were a neighbor stopping by for a cup of sugar. “But the professor says it’s all good, so long as ya’ll don’t touch any of the controls to your T.A.R.D.I.S.”

“The…professor?”

Neas stepped past the teenager, puzzled to see a grey-colored T.A.R.D.I.S. console room adjacent to his own, dramatically different in design.

Near the entrance he stepped through was a coatrack.

Large roundels made up virtually all of the wall space.

One reflective walkway ahead of the entrance led to this T.A.R.D.I.S.’s console platform, while another encircled it, interconnecting with a short flight of stairs across the room that led into a hall.

The time rotor at the center of the control console, lit in a bluish-green hue, extended down to the lower level compartments that could be openly observed from the main level.

Holographic imaging, projected from the time rotor itself, proved to be a vast upgrade for this T.A.R.D.I.S., replacing the large view screen of Neas’s model.

It was a control room undoubtedly conceived by someone with a taste for high-class décor.

And that someone made her presence noticed at the console platform.

An emerald-eyed, fair-skinned young woman in a V-neck sweater dress, leggings, and knee-high boots that was as black as her hair looked towards Neas, grinning with luscious pink lips.

“Nice to see an old face again,” she said with an empowering voice.

She was a definite sight to behold, though Neas reserved any verbal compliments.

“Who’re you?” He prodded.

“Name’s Kimbyr,” the woman introduced, gesturing to the redheaded teenager behind Neas. “And the pocketful of sunshine there is Autumn, a companion of mine…apparently from another time.”

“We’re still trying to figure that one out,” Autumn said.

Neas could not restrain himself from eyeing the bigger, brighter area.

“Your T.A.R.D.I.S. fused itself to mine. How is that even possible?”

“It’s the same T.A.RD.I.S.,” Kimbyr informed. “Only it’s regenerated…a lot like its pilot.”

He gawked at the raven-haired woman, able to classify who and what she was, thanks to her subtle hint.

“And which number are you on our list?”

Kimbyr pointed to herself and mischievously validated, “Sixteen.”