Paying the Price

"Ow. Everything hurts. God." I moaned, resting on the wooden benches inside the art gallery. My injuries were helpfully healing from my newly-unlocked aura, and I had all the time I need to fix the world.

"Obviously, crashing through a window will get you some cuts. What were you thinking?" Tom Baker's playful, but concerning voice called out to me. I glanced up to stare at him.

"Um, fixing this corrupted world from fucking itself...? Listen, don't ask me how, but I know you're the Doctor. I need to borrow your Tardis. And your spare key." I demanded urgently, the old veteran of time recoiling to my demand.

A good paradox would fix the timeline. I know there's going to be some changes along the way, but honestly... it's better than this world I'm having.

The Fourth Doctor looked... reluctant.

He shook his head, leaving me into a level of confusion. He simply walked away with a cane in hand, before entering into another art room. I scrunched up, confused as to why he would...

I followed him, pulling out my own sonic screwdriver in hand for any cybermen or daleks.

There, I saw him.

He was staring at the painting of Gallifrey Falls. It was 3D, with use of Time Lord technology, in a parallel pocket universe where everything felt real. He stared at it longingly, as if he missed his own planet.

His home.

"Simply dreadful, isn't it? The last battle of the Time War. Where the Doctor was alone. He was the last of his kind." He explained. I sat next to him in silence, watching the artwork of Gallifrey.

I was very confused on the context he was talking about.

"Wasn't Gallifrey saved? By a bunch of madmen in police boxes, surrounding their Tardises in the lower atmosphere and freezing the whole planet in an another universe....?" I asked. I remember Eleventh suggesting this idea to the other doctors, and it worked out perfectly.

Then... why was he talking like it... failed?

He lowered his gaze. "That, my boy... never happened. The Doctor of War activated the Moment, a weapon designed to destroy galaxies. As his punishment for committing genocide to Time Lords and Daleks, he survived, suffering from the guilt of what he had done." He explained. So this was the timeline where the events never happened...

"But... he could've saved everyone. Why didn't he? He's got a freaking time machine, and he could go back in time, and fix everything!" I exclaimed. The Curator merely sighed at my statement.

I hate not knowing what the hell is going on.

"What has done cannot be undone... In this timeline, different than yours, the Doctor of War fled himself into distant universes, believing he was too dangerous to live. After all, he couldn't bare the pain of surviving... He threw himself into a Black Hole, where he could die along with the Tardis." He explained. Jesus, things just got dark...

I'm pretty sure the Tardis can't be ripped apart from the gravitation of a black hole, even with it's shields were down, I'm sure it'll just... wonder around from the flow and get himself... into another... universe...

"But... he didn't die. The Tardis couldn't have ripped apart, since it's basically powered by another black hole, and he could've just survived..." I muttered. The Curator nodded.

"But he did intend to kill himself. By lowering the Tardis' defenses, he could've been sucked and wiped out from the gravitation flow of the black hole, but he did not... he survived, travelling in an another unknown universe, alone and grieving." The Curator explained.

I think I'm getting the picture now...

"And I'm guessing you wandered around this new universe and found a habitable planet, that being Remnant, and lived the rest of your lives... curating artworks?" I raised an eyebrow. He said nothing.

It's very simple as to why he didn't decide to save this world.

"You retired. Abandoned the name of the Doctor, but living the life of an old curator watching paintings... And you regenerated early on in time as your fourth and favourite incarnation to dwell the PTSD using comedy..." I realised. This was no Doctor. He was a tired old man, sick of living forever.

No matter what he did, it only brought suffering. He secluded himself, alone and lonely, just him suffering as a good man with too many rules.

"No more. No more of this... nonsense. Let the world burn. Just as the same as mine." He spoke those cold words.

What in fuck's name was he talking about...?

Let the world burn?!

Was this guy senile?! No matter what, you don't let the world burn because you grieve that your homeworld was burned from your actions. THEN WHY WAS HE SO CASUAL THAT HE "ALLOWS" THIS WORLD TO FUCK UP?!

I stared at him like if he was crazy. Nevertheless, he explained his logic.

"This world is beyond saving. I've watched too many outcomes, and it was nothing but chaos and death. I've tried. So many times as the Doctor. And I've failed. Salem has always won, and Ozma always loses. He could not win against the Queen of Grimm. It was too late for them. They were irredeemable, and could not be changed." He recalled, so longingly and sorrowful.

Ah, he DID try to redeem those suckas.

"I showed them the universe, travelled with them, just like my companions. But the human side of them never did change. It was inevitable, Salem became the Queen of Grimm, and Ozma died. I could never change the outcome, no matter what I tried. It would only lead to despair..." He gripped on his cane tightly, recalling the past memories and trying to forget them.

But I had other ideas.

"But you're the Doctor. You save PEOPLE. To hell with everyone else who doesn't like it, you made a promise with that name! Never be cruel, nor cowardly! Never give up, never give in-"

"𝑰 𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑫!"

An earth-rumbling outraged shout from the Curator made me flinch. He stood up, his face devoid of any cheerful emotions but his eyes told me everything. He was sick of everything.

And he was sick of my voice.

"I, could never be the Doctor, ANYMORE! I've tried, attempted, and prevented the events, but I couldn't do it. They told me I was a madman, their savior, their hero...! But HUMANS... were just the SAME! I AM NO DOCTOR! AND THERE IS NO ONE IN MY SHRED OF KINDNESS, TO EVER, EVER, SAVE A LIFE FROM THIS PLANET!"

His eyes were full of negative emotions, all bottled up for centuries. He's suffered too long, lost so much, and he's just tired. Tired of doing his work.

.

.

.

.

.

And seeing such sloppy work made me pissed.

"Bull. Shit." I seethed through my teeth. I saw the Curator gripping his cane more tightly in outrage. I've lived more than he did, but I didn't whine like a little bitch because everyone told him he was a freak.

I've lived through lives called as a freak. I ignored them since, and what I was seeing was just an old man tired of being called a freak from his precious 'humans'. He couldn't handle it, so he betrayed them.

This was a man who lived for human kindness and friendship. He saved others for kindness, and now he was simply tired of all it because these 'humans' couldn't send it back. And what the hell was he going to now?

Let the world burn.

Now I don't like that at all.

Granted, his motives and actions were understandable, but this just leaves me annoyed because someone couldn't decide to clean up a mess. I mean, people don't clean up other's messes because it doesn't relate to them...

I clean up other's messes so it can be clean. Calm, and peaceful for anyone to live. In which I want to live in it, so what? The world's fucked for all I care. I don't know if I'm going to live in it, but I better clean up it's messes in order to not make the world into a troublesome place.

I'm cynical. I'm a different kind of selfish, but I'm the guy who would do the dirty job where everybody doesn't because they are pathetic. I just want to live a calm life, for fuck's sake...

We stared at each other for a solid minute, before breaking the silence with a sigh of exhaustion. I didn't care what the Curator's expression held, but I'm certain he was very surprised.

"If you're aren't going to help me... then you might as well leave me alone." I stated to the old man, and I was off searching for his Tardis to fix the world. A hand gripped my shoulder when I went passed him.

"Where are you going? Off to steal my Tardis and make things worse?" He scowled, gripping tightly on my shoulder which was unexpected from an old man. I was feeling a little deja vu in some cases...

"You don't know that. Someone has to fix the world, and it isn't going to fix itself. It's better than this hell we're having-" Aaaand I was smacked and thrown into the floor with a flip. Realising that the Curator used Venusian akido on my ass.

Seriously, for an old man, HOW THE HELL DID HE FLIP ME OVER?!

"I can't let you do that. I can't let you use my Tardis and change time." He stated, confident that he could beat me. I frowned, before kicking away his cane and let him fall to the floor.

He yelped, before groaning when he hit the ground. I grunted and lifted myself up, kicking away the cane when he tried to reach for it.

"And how are you supposed to that..? You're not going to best me with that thin, old, frail body of yours..." I nurtured my aching back, my back tensed when they were smacked with sudden stress upon contact via floor.

"I'll let you rest on the floor for a little while, Mr Curator... now where's that time mach- UGH!" I was kicked to the gut and then sliding on the floor. I groaned, asking myself where did that came from, then realising it was coming from the old man himself.

"Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young." I muttered as I quoted, before grunting myself up to see an old man stancing on the Venusian karate.

Battle an old man who's literally centuries old?

Fuck that, I'm running. I'm genuinely afraid of old men after I got post-traumatic stress disorder from a certain old man with a cane...

I ran to the other room, surprising the Curator of my 'tactical retreat'. He ran for an old man in his age, before getting-

BONK!

Yeah, I smacked him straight in the face with a baseball bat. He was knocked unconscious (hopefully dead), lying on the floor while I sheepishly held the baseball bat in hand. I threw the object away and began searching for clues.

Well, I've got a broken unconscious old man who's lived too long. Let him sleep without any nightmares or voices in his head. Oh, did I mention I could share my Sleeping perk temporarally, regardless of the distance?

Anyways, I hope I won't get killed by Tom Baker fans...

...

Seriously, how is finding one blue wooden police box hard to find in this place?!

Also, I found the Tardis key from the pockets of his blazer. Right now, I'm scanning for Artron energy, the same stuff that powers the Tardis, but I can't find a speck of matter for any of it.

It's as if it's not here.

"Damn. Damn, damn, damn!" I cursed, headbanging to a wall. It's a damn big blue box that's wooden and out of place. How hard can it be?!

I've searched everywhere in the art gallery. Nothing. Not a single police box. Though, there is a strong possibility that the Doctor might've fixed the chameleon circuit...

BUT: It doesn't mean I can't find the Tardis.

Running past Technoblade, I rushed out to search for-

.

.

.

.

.

Wait, Technoblade...?

"SUBSCRIBE TO TECHNOBLADE!!!"

I was screaming for my life when a Pig faunus wearing a golden crown, a red royal cape, white shirt, red bandana for belt, grey pants and black shoes ran and charged at me with a diamond sword.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" I screamed for dear life when I saw fucking Technoblade trying to kill me. I dodged the swift swing of his sword, got mostly stabbed and cut, and I was sure fucked when I heard this:

"DEATH! DEATH! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" He screamed while he took out his fists and bashed me through the fucking street. I was screaming whilst flying and I was certain I was tossed like... fucking 25 FEET FROM HIM?! WTF?!

"WAITWAITWWWAIAIAWWAIT!!! I SUBSCRIBE! I SUBSCRIBE TO TECHNOBLADE!!! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!! PLEASE!!! DON'T KILL ME!!!!!!!!!" I wailed for dear life, fucked if I know that Technoblade was the BEST MINECRAFT PLAYER and he could kill me any second.

"Who are you? I appreciate the subs, but why are you screaming?"

His calm and confused voice stopped me from screaming. An odd silence washed over us as I stared at Technoblade who was deadpanning at me. I slowly stand my ground, watching carefully to the pig faun- no, GOD.

"TECHNOBLADE?! HOW- YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!! THIS IS RWBY, NOT FUCKING- MINECRAFT!! SUBSCRIBE TO TECHNOBLADE?! WTF?!" I shouted in pure shock, never have I ever met Technoblade in real life. Technoblade watches the scenery as he sheathes his sword.

"Old habits die hard, I suppose. Who are you? I thought this place was abandoned." He asked. I calmed down. Technoblade was asking who I was. With deep breaths, I introduced myself.

"I'm Mark." I said simply, and I was cursing myself for the little introductions needed. Technoblade took a moment to process this.

".... Okay, Mark. Why are here, in this abandoned city where you shouldn't be here?" He raised an eyebrow. I blinked repeadily.

I tried to explain the details to Technoblade while trying not to freak out.

"So you slept for, like, a few weeks, and you wake up in a post-apocalyptic world where everyone you know is dead, and you're trying to fix everything by time-travellin'." He questioned. I nodded my head.

Technoblade rubbed his chin and glanced at me.

"So, uh, you got any clout?" Technoblade asked suddenly. I fell, facefaulting to the ground anime-style while rubbing my head from the fall. I shook my head in denial.

"Shame. Well, I'm off to go kill some Grimm. See ya nerd. Have fun trying to save the world." He sped past me, running into a pink and red blur in the distance. I sweatdropped at the sheer ridiculousness of meeting Technoblade.

Wait, he said he hated orphans. I count as a orphan because I don't have parents. So why didn't he kill me?

"..." I said nothing.

Let's try not to think too much...

...

I found the platinum blond twins hiding inside the bathroom stalls. Don't ask me how I landed myself in the toilet stalls, I just needed a quick piss. And I just happened to hear two children in a boy's stall whispering...

"Blanca, stop trying to change it! I know we're not actually siblings, but..." Albus' voice whispered to the now newly-discovered not-sibiling.

"Not by blood. Just help me do my hair, Albus..." Blanca whispered. I slammed the stall of the door open. They screamed in fear. I noticed Blanca's hair was wet, and the platinum hair was obviously dyed, revealing the raven hair underneath.

I stared at them skeptically along with a deadpan.

"Seriously?" I questioned them both.

They were too much in a fright to answer, so I sighed in acts of relief to calm them down. I rubbed my eyes at the sheer ridiculousness I had to deal with. Broken Doctor, Technoblade, not by blood-related sibilings... what else, the Tardis is right next to me?

...

"So you two are saying that you're not blood related. No shit. But what's in it for me?" I asked them, not particularly caring of the fact they were not blood-related. They touched their hands together like any sibilings would.

"It's that... there is a family law between both of us that never let us meet each other, and we break it, bad things happen to us..." Blanca explained softly. I raised an eyebrow.

"What 'bad things'? Death?" I suggested. They went silent. I was joking.

"Do you two, uh, love each other? As in, make baby lovey dovey?" I asked, and they all made disgusted faces at my face.

"EW!" "Ew, no!" Oh, thank god. I wasn't going to deal with Romeo and Juilet for the whole month. God knows I'm sick of dealing with fairy tale characters...

"Listen, I need to find a police box. It's blue, wooden, big, and has the strangest feeling you'll ever felt, because this object depends on the future of this world. Got it? So please, stop dying your hair and get your asses moving..." I ordered, rubbing my eyes in pain. They nodded confidently, puffing their fists.

...

"I found it." Blanca said, pointing nowhere but a empty dark alley. Albus gave a skeptical look at his sister. While I was certain Blanca had more than sight.

Though, I needed to check something first. "You're blind, Blanca. How could you 'found' it? Can you sense it? The odd humming of time and space?" I asked, getting a 'WTF' look from Albus. Blanca said nothing.

"I-I... could feel it. It's... alive, but it's very, very, very sad. Like a sad puppy who lost their mother... It's crying... I... I am sad too..." She uttered, her blindfold soaking from tears. She stepped forward, and revealing the camouflaged Tardis.

"Woah!" Albus exclaimed. How can the sonic screwdriver couldn't detect the Tardis in the first place? Anyways, Blanca found the Tardis...

I tapped the wooden exterior. "This, ladies and gentlemen, ahem- boy and girl, is the TARDIS. Stands for: Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. TARDIS. It's what's going to help us prevent this hell from happening in the first place-" I paused mid-sentence when the key couldn't turn. I tried again, thinking that the rusty keyhole might've-

Eventally it got to the point that I slammed the doors to open. Didn't even budge, and the key I got...

Was broken in two.

"Oh, you gotta be fucking with me..." I exclaimed, clutching my head at how fucked I was. The sibilings watched with confusion and fear as their last hope was gone.

"Great! You've broken the key of a time machine! You're an idiot!" Albus shouted in outrage, disapointed at my actions. A vein formed in my temples as I glared at Albus. Albus backed away, sweating.

"Hey, it's open." I turned around to see Blanca opened the Tardis doors.

I stared at Blanca for a solid minute, before Blanca shrugged off and entered the Tardis. Albus shrugged at me like it was normal to him, as he pat my back and entered the Tardis as well.

Kids, these days.

I entered the Tardis.

...

Albus couldn't believe what he was seeing. It... was bigger on the inside than it was on... the outside! Holy moly! His eyes widened like baseballs, in awe of the Type 40 Tardis, Made in Gallifrey, owned by the Doctor.

"Yes, yes, yes. It's bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. I hate to cut the inside joke that lasted over 57 years, but we gotta go now. Off to preventing the hell, we go!" Mark, if he remembered the man introducing himself, got to a hexagonal table, which was full of...

Buttons! Levers! Switches! So many buttons that Albus wanted to touch and press all of them! Yeees, press all the buttons...! His eyes glimmered like stars.

Blanca smiled, as if sensing her brother's excitement. But what she felt from... the Tardis, was weak. It was tired, and exhausted. It was so...

Sad.

Mark spun around flicking switches and pressing buttons. "Right, since it's the old Tardis, not your average modern Tardis console, commandeering the old gen consoles of the classic series is REALLY hard to control especially when you can't find the right demat lever...!" Mark grumbled, figuring the controls of the classic console was proven difficult.

"Ah, here it is." He said, as he pulled down the throttle. Suddenly, the Tardis groaned and wheezed, demateriallising itself into the time vortex.

...

I was no stranger in Doctor Who. Both realistically and metaphorically. I spun myself around the console, switching and turning buttons. The Tardis console was meant for 6 pilots, each having a section to control the Tardis.

Now, I'm just one man. It's going to be hard controlling this thing, and I doubt this ride will go without a hitch-

"Uh... mister? Where are we? You said... you said you could find our mom. Where is she?" Blanca asked. I froze, pretending to ignore what she just said. She asked again, and I bit my lips.

"You know the truth, don't you?" I looked at Albus. Their mother was dead. Blanca probably knew that too, but a young girl at her age, she must've refused her mother was dead, and she was lying to the truth.

Albus lowered his head in shame.

"Well, I ain't going to sugar-coat this for you. Your mother is gone. As in, dead. Now, before you burst into tears of refusal that your mother isn't dead, did I mention this is a time machine? I could go back in time.... and save your mother from... dying?" I tried to reason with the girl.

"Okay. Mom isn't dead. She's just missing. Right, mister?" Blanca said. I paled like a whitesheet when she said that. It was creepy.

"Okay... back to few weeks earlier... here... we... go..." I slowly turned back time, setting the thing into few weeks, and materiallised the Tardis in Vale.

Thud.

I opened the doors. Just an ordinary city of Vale. I sighed in relief. I looked back at the sibilings. Albus was impressed in awe at the fact of time travelling, and Blanca gripped her brother's arms tighter as if she sensed something.

"I guess this is where we part ways, kiddos." I crouched down to their level. I ruffled their hairs a bit, gaining a glare from Albus. I rolled my eyes, telling them to go to the Police Department. They questioned my logic and I deflected it with time travel logic.

Soon, they walked to the streets of Vale. Tagged along with me. I grunted nervously, thinking it was too risky to show myself to the public and unfortunately meeting the RWBY cast accidently.

I told the police of their missing parents, and I let them go alone in the department. Without a hitch. I gulped along the way in walking to the alley where I parked the Tardis, then I released my breath when I touched the door.

I had a time machine, and I could do everything what I wanted.

I entered the Tardis. I needed to kill Onyx Smith. Before the hell happens.

...

BANG

I was holding the smoking barrel of the pistol. It was easier said than done. Hush was dead, the demonic monster was gone, I got rid of the demonic pentagram, I freed the mentally tortured blondies, and I was done.

Hush was dead.

Now, where to travel next....?

...

I was pretty exhausted, done from all the work. I decided to visit the orphanage for some tea, and I left the Tardis alone and away from the wrong hands. I could've fixed everything, time-traveling to the past and making sure chaotic things never happened...

But to the Curator's advice, Ozma and Salem never changed. Meaning that event was a fixed event, never to be changed or to be tampered. Something told me I had to make things interesting. Whatever.

Sometimes I just wanna die-

"There he is. The rebel." I heard multiple voices, all of them aiming at me. I turned around to see multiple hooded folk standing in front of me, and I prepared my weapon-

I didn't have a weapon. Shit.

Everything went black.

I woke up, realising I was tied to a wooden post. The cultists were chanting some mystic voodoo shit, and I was going to be executed from fire. Hell no, I wasn't going to lit in flames!

"The sinner must be punished in holy flames. And into ashes, he becomes. Let the ritual begin." One cultist held a torch and lit the wooden pilllars on fire. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck...!

The flames burnt me, like I was dumped in lava and left to die. Hell was upon me. Everything hurt. I was burning in hell. I screamed, the fire turning into my senses into pain, and I had enough.

I ripped the ropes from my body and kicked the post at the cultists. I snapped their neck, ripped their bones, teared their skulls from their heads, until the floor became red.

Fuck everything.