Apocalypse Rising (Book Four)

The Apocalypse's Daughter

Share my pain, all. This one is a heartbreaker. If no one is crying by the end of this, you're a Dalek. And because I'm that mean, you have to read all the way through it to find out the answer as to who's in the Metacrisis.

How does the Apocalypse handle Jenny? More importantly, what does Jenny get to learn from her mother?

Here's "The Apocalypse's Daughter!"

***

"What the hell's it doing?" Donna shouted as the TARDIS rocked.

"The control's not working," the Apocalypse answered, trying to fix them. "I don't know where we're going!"

Something on the console went bang, spewing sparks, but everything went still and quiet. The Apocalypse jumped to her feet and ran outside, squinting, surprised by how dark it was. "Why would the TARDIS bring us here, then?" she asked, looking around the junkyard railway . . . thing.

"Oh, I love this bit," Martha smiled as they looked around.

"I thought you wanted to go home," Donna looked at her.

"I know," she nodded. "But all the same . . . it's that feeling you get!"

"Like you swallowed a hamster?"

"Don't move!" a young man shouted, and a few humans ran out of the darkness. "Stay where you are! Drop your weapons!"

"We're unarmed!" the Apocalypse quickly raised her hands, seeing the rifles aimed at them. "Look, no weapons. Never any weapons. We're safe."

"Look at their hands," one of the soldiers said. "They're clean."

"All right," the man who'd spoken said reluctantly. "Process them." He nodded at the Apocalypse. "Her first."

"Oi, oi!' the Apocalypse protested as she was pulled forward. "What's wrong with clean hands?"

"What's going on?" Martha asked as one of the soldiers pushed the Apocalypse's arm into a machine.

"Leave her alone!" Donna chimed in.

"Something tells me this isn't about to check my blood pressure," the Apocalypse quipped, but yelped when something grabbed ahold of her arm. "Agh!"

"What are you doing to her?" Donna glared at the soldiers.

"Everyone gets processed," the first soldier said simply.

"It's taking a tissue sample," the Apocalypse explained, wincing. "Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow! You'd think by now I'd be used to this."

***

"What are they trying to do now, clone you?" the Doctor stared at the marks made on the Apocalypse's hands and arms.

"They say they just want tissue samples," the Apocalypse shrugged slightly.

"Awful lot of trouble shoving you into a machine just to get a 'tissue sample,'" the Master frowned.

"I can't exactly argue with them," the Apocalypse looked at them. "They couldn't kick me out, I'd tell everyone."

"Death without regeneration," the Doctor scowled.

She ducked her head. "Yes."

The Master and the Doctor exchanged dirty looks. This was just going too far.

***

"Ow!" the Apocalypse winced, pulled out of her memory by the pain. "And extrapolated it! Some kind of accelerator?"