In a mansion on the edge of a city, the butler was finishing up a phone call. “…I see. …Very well, Mr. Fox. Mister Wayne will contact you shortly. …Goodbye, sir.” He hung up the phone and sighed. “…To lose Lucius Fox, of all people…” his thoughts were interrupted by a bookcase sliding to the left automatically, revealing a concealed staircase. The butler’s employer walked up the stairs and into the main mansion. “Good evening, Master Bruce,” greeted the butler. “I hadn’t expected you to use that entrance until after your evening patrol.”
“I needed to use the Batcomputer to double-check that reading I needed help with,” explained the butler’s employer, Gotham’s richest man, Bruce Wayne. “Who were you talking to, Alfred?”
“To Mr. Fox. I’m sorry to report that we’ve lost him.” Bruce’s eyes widened.
“…Nothing?” he asked.
“Not a trace,” sighed Alfred sadly. “He didn’t recognize the standard quotes at all.”
“It’s getting worse!” growled Bruce.
“First Master Grayson, then Miss Kyle, now Lucius,” recalled Alfred. “How can one forget a man like Martin Luther King Jr.?”
“I’m hoping a specialist I called can shed some light,” remarked Bruce.
“A specialist, Sir?” The buzzer then rang. Alfred answered it. “Wayne Manor. How may we assist?”
“Winston Zeddemore here,” replied the person at the door. “I heard there was a theory that a ghost was involved in the good Reverend’s disappearance from national memory?” Alfred looked at Bruce in surprise.
“He’s a bit early, but we need speed, Alfred. …He knows about my night life.”
“…Come right in, Dr. Zeddemore,” bid Alfred as he pressed the button that opened the gate. He and Bruce then headed to the front door and let Winston in.
“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Dr. Zeddemore,” greeted Bruce as he and Winston shook hands.
“Please, just call me Winston,” replied Winston. “So, the famous Batman wants my help, huh?”
At the outermost edge of Bruce’s property, a blonde woman in strange clothes pulled out a recorder. “Personal Log entry 7Z. Earth date, seventh month, twenty-second day, two thousand twenty-seventh year. Local civilization, Gotham, United States of America. Lieutenant Tysar reporting. Yet again, I’ve been skulking around like the criminals that run rampant throughout Gotham, stealing food to survive. …I’m starting to hate hot dogs, but they’re the nearest thing I can get right now. …Sorry, it’s just…it’s been at least three Earth years since I was taken from New Davius. I…I really miss home. …No real new thing, other than a famous Earth figure disappearing from public…huh?” Tysar stopped recording as she heard a noise. It sounded like something going Vworp repeatedly, then it ended in a thud. “…Log entry addendum: I think I heard a peculiar noise that no Earth machine makes. I’m going to investigate.” Tysar packed her supplies and wandered along the edge of the property for a few yards…then she saw it. It was a blue box with windows and signs. Tysar gasped in disbelief. “…You…you haven’t-! …Have you?!” Tysar rushed to the door, then stopped, hesitating. “…Log entry addendum: I think…either the loneliness of being stranded on Earth starting the second quarter of its 21st century is getting to me…or I may be saved! …I’m looking at a vehicle of historical significance for our people! It’s a blue box that locals would call a Police Box from London in the 1960’s. Our people would know it as a vehicle that brought four people to our ancestors in the time of their greatest need on the ancestral homeworld. …If this is real, I’m going to attempt to enter it.” Tysar stopped recording and read the sign. The letters were English, but somehow they were translated into characters and words she understood so she could read that one had to pull to open the doors. She hesitated…then pushed the doors. They swung inside and Tysar gasped. “…It’s real! …I don’t believe it! The TARDIS! …It’s real! …And I can go home!” Happy tears welled up in her eyes as she stepped inside the box.
Tysar looked around the interior as it defied geometry! The inside was bigger than the outside! There was a hexagonal control console in the center with a glass cylinder in the center of the console. “…Log entry addendum!” Tysar said as she began recording again. “It’s real! The TARDIS! It’s real! …I can see a path to home, after three years of losing hope! …I’ve entered the TARDIS, but the Doctor is nowhere to be seen. …Hang on, there’s a display saying something. I’m going to read it.” The display read “Decontamination complete. Awaiting pilot recovery.” Tysar blinked. “…Pilot recovery?” she muttered. “What happened here?” The display then changed.
“Non-Gallifreyan detected. Spatio/temporal origin not of local time zone or planet.”
“…N-No, I’m not,” confirmed Tysar. “Look, what required decontamination?” The display changed.
“Pilot was infected with artificial virus of Skarosian origin. Cure has been synthesized and introduced into air supply and all traces of virus have been purged.”
“Skarosian virus?” asked Tysar in horror. “The Doctor just came from an encounter with my people’s greatest enemy?! Where-?!” The display changed.
“Proceed to Zero Room where pilot is being healed. Path will be indicated. Pilot requires reviving.” Lights then lit up on the floor.
“…Right, I’ll do what I can!” Tysar followed the lights deeper into the TARDIS and found herself outside a room. She entered the room and saw a woman with African features sleeping in mid-air! The woman wore a burgundy outfit with a rose-hemmed skirt and a headband with a large rose on the left side, but her outfit wasn’t important. “…This is your pilot?” asked Tysar. “…This is…the Doctor?” The woman then groaned.
“Oogh, Amy!” said the woman groggily. “I warned you about your hammer!” The woman’s eyes fluttered open. “…The…the Zero Room? …Oh…oh yes, Amy…and Lurra…the disease! I-!” The woman then saw Tysar. “…Am…I seeing things?” asked the woman.
“No, I can assure you that I’m real,” said Tysar. “Your ship landed on Earth and-.”
“Landed?” Memories then stirred in the woman’s mind. “…Yes…yes, I programmed the TARDIS to land when…when all traces of a disease were eliminated. I had accidentally contracted it and…wait, if the TARDIS landed and you’re here…then it worked!” The woman then floated in a fashion that put her upright. Her feet then touched the floor. “I think some introductions are in order. Who are you?”
“…Lieutenant Tysar, New Davius Scientific Survey Corps!” replied Tysar. “Current status: stranded on Earth in its 21st century! Local civilization name: Gotham!
“New Davius?” The woman’s eyes widened. “You’re a Thal! But you lot shouldn’t-! …Did an energy wave grab you from wherever you were and plop you here in…Gotham, you said? American city?”
“Erm, yes, to all those questions,” answered Tysar. “And you…?” The woman took off her glove and held her wrist out. Tysar checked the woman’s pulse…and her eyes widened. “…A double pulse!” she whispered. “…You really ARE the Doctor!”
“And I’ve been tracking those energy waves,” explained the Doctor as she put her glove back on. “They’re called chronal surges and they have a tendency to take people out of their native time and space and put them into new ones, either in the past or in the future. So…looks like I need to bring you back to New Davius.”
“I’d like that, yes,” said Tysar.
“First things first,” declared the Doctor, “let’s see if there are any chronal surges here, hm?” With that, the Doctor hurried to the console room with Tysar behind her.
While Tysar got acquainted with the Doctor, Alfred checked the grounds, having heard the TARDIS’ arrival. “I’m SURE I’ve gone senile, Sir,” remarked Alfred over the comms. “It sounded similar to when the Doctor’s vehicle vanished, but…”
“If you have the presence of mind to say you’re senile,” replied Bruce, “there’s a good chance you’re not.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Sir.” Alfred then goggled. “…Sir, the TARDIS IS on the edge of your property.”
“See if you can make contact with-.” The doors opened and the Doctor and Tysar came out with the Doctor looking worried.
“This is impossible,” she muttered. “He can’t just vanish from time like-!” She then saw Alfred. “…Alfred Pennyworth!” she said with a smile.
“A new companion for the Doctor?” asked Alfred.
“Try again,” replied the Doctor as she presented her wrist. Alfred then felt her pulse.
“…Sir, has Superman ever said anything about Time Lords changing faces?” Alfred asked over the comms.
“He said it was a survival mechanism, according to the Kryptonian Archives,” replied Bruce. “Why? Is the Doctor different?”
“If you want further proof,” said the Doctor, “I offered you the chance to come on a trip after Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn’s disastrous mess with the Krynoid, but you said you had a vacation all lined up.”
“Master Bruce, the Doctor HAS changed her face,” confirmed Alfred. “And far be it for me to tell you what to do, but I believe she may help us and Dr. Zeddemore in this caper.”
“Dr. Zeddemore?” asked the Doctor. “Then Martin Luther King Jr’s ghost is gone as well?”