Ian Chesterton sucked on his cigarette wondering at the ship's ability to recreate this earth drug and it's inability to get them home. The Doctor was pottering around as usual, fiddling with things and hmming and hawing. Barbera was off with Susan talking about something or other. They were supposed to be going home as usual, but it was anyone's guess where they'd end up. Ian was a little glad to away from Susan after her recent idea of 'a fun game'. Barbara seemed as collected as ever but then she hadn't 'won'!
"Chesterton!" Ian's reverie was broken by the familiar sound of an agitated old man. "Look at this! Quite remarkable! Hmm?"
Ian looked at a small screen in a bank of equipment at a lot of squiggles which he couldn't understand.
"I'm sorry Doctor; it's all greek to me!" he admitted.
"My dear boy! Look! This is a reading for Earth! Twentieth century! I do believe you are going home! Eh?"
Ian stared at the screen. He's heard this before, but not with any evidence, even if he couldn't make head nor tail of the evdence. Was this it? Were he and Barbara finally going home?
In a space between times a blue box fell endlessly and at it's destination a short angry Canadian huffed on a cigar and said "I never liked you, and you you just over the line, bub. Say hello to the real me."
*Snikt*
Razor sharp claws burst out of the man's hands as outside an antiquated blue policebox materialised...
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