
The Doctor found herself gazing into an old, familiar, blank and expressionless faceplate. Despite herself and the imminent danger she couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia for a long passed face and time.

The Doctor found herself gazing into an old, familiar, blank and expressionless faceplate. Despite herself and the imminent danger she couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia for a long passed face and time.


The Doctor and Yaz find themselves separated on the surface of a barren and inhospitable world. it’s not long before they are captured by the dreaded Cybermen. But why are the silver giants roaming this seemingly dead world, and what is the name of this bleak planet?

Unblooded and unproven yet in this new body, who else could the Warrior turn to, for advice, for wisdom, for solace and understanding but an old warrior, an old friend.

The Doctor recognized the smell before entering the room, the smell of an embalmers. Medicinal, sterile but the scent of death ever present. She knew exactly who was there.
‘Davros, of course it would have to be you…’ the hints of accusation and disappointment coloured her words. It did not go unnoticed.
‘I see, Doctor, that your manners haven’t improved with this new face either.’ Davros purred as she slowly edged towards her old enemy.
Found in the ruins of a bombed house in London during the Second World War this was the only item to escape the destruction undamaged.
It is now housed in a sealed bunker within the UNIT Black Archive as it’s said anyone who gazes upon it for too long becomes an unwitting victim to a mesmeric influence…



‘Welcome home, Doctor. I hope you don’t mind but we’ve been keeping your wee spot warm.’