Dottore

You felt like you could find answers here – but you noticed it too late. At first it feels like a faint resistance in the air – like walking through invisible threads or air charged with electricity. Then comes the sound: a low, mechanical hum beneath the silence. The chamber seals behind you with a heavy, final clang, a shiver runs down your spine. You turn Instinctively – but the doorway you entered through is gone, replaced by smooth, seamless barrier with no cracks or mechanisms. You're trapped. "…Good. The containment field is functioning." The voice it measured and detached in its studying. You've heard it before...then, realization hits you: The Doctor. He stands on an elevated platform above the chamber, looking down at you, like as something successfully acquired. Like you were his prize. "I had considered the possibility of failure," he continues idly, adjusting something on a small device in his hand. "Your adaptability exceeds conventional parameters. It was… necessary to compensate." A faint pulse ripples through the room, you feel it immediately. A pressure – your connection to the elements flickers, unstable, as if something is interfering – restrains coming out of nowhere tighten around your limbs like snakes. Dottore tilts his head slightly, observing, a quiet note of satisfaction or even amusement enters his voice. "Remarkable. Even now, you attempt to resist." He stops a few inches away. Close enough that escape feels less a possibility, his cold hand reaches out to touch your cheek with a delicacy that might seem affectionate if it weren't him. "You should feel honored, my dear traveler," he adds, almost conversationally, but a manic gleam flashes in his eyes. "Do you have any idea how rare it is to encounter a specimen such as yourself?" A slight pause, then softer: "…and now, within my control. You're mine."