The inside of the TARDIS was buzzing. Not because of the temperature—though that could change quickly—but because of the tension hanging in the air. Endeavour stood with arms crossed, flames licking his body like an eternal inferno. He didn't move an inch. Not out of courtesy, but because he had a mission.
"Not a finger," he growled, eyes locked on Jack Sparrow, who was dancing around the console like it was a treasure chest.
"Relax, Fire Man," the pirate smirked, his voice dripping with mischief. "Just… admiring the décor. Very minimalist. Shame about the lack of candles, though."
"Jack…" The Doctor didn't even glance up as he flicked a switch on the console. "If you touch anything, the ship crashes into a black hole. And you die. Slowly. In pieces."
Jack's grin widened, as if that was an invitation.
"Oh… a challenge?"
Endeavour stepped forward, flames roaring higher.
"No. A threat."
The tension could've been cut with a knife—or with the sonic screwdriver, which the Doctor was twirling absentmindedly as he muttered to himself. The reward. Finally, he'd hit 20%.
Right before his eyes, the system interface appeared:
[Reward for reaching 20% achieved]
You have received: Psychic Paper
Allows you to show anyone exactly what you want them to see. Perfect for lying, distracting… or looking important.
The Doctor's grin turned sly. "Oh, brilliant. A portable lie. How did I ever live without you?"
While the Time Lord marveled at his new toy, the rest of the room was far less composed. Erina Nakiri had frozen the moment she saw Endeavour standing there, a living, breathing inferno of raw power. Her survival instincts screamed louder than her pride, so she gracefully (or so she thought) inched away and stuck close to Usagi, who looked like the most… normal person here. If that was even possible.
"Is he always… on fire?" Erina whispered.
Usagi gave a nervous smile, trying very hard not to look as lost as she felt.
"I… think so."
Before they could exchange more awkward small talk, a chorus of groans filled the room. The rest of the unconscious passengers were waking up. One by one, men and women in strange outfits and even stranger expressions sat up, blinking in confusion.
And then chaos exploded.
"Where am I?"
"Who the hell are you people?"
"Stay back, traitors!"
"Why does that guy smell like rum?"
"WHY IS THERE A HUMAN TORCH?!"
The Doctor spun on his heels, grinning like this was the best party in the universe.
"Ah, yes… introductions. My favorite bit. Everyone yelling, nobody listening. Fantastic."
The noise was deafening now—questions, accusations, panic. The TARDIS felt like a boiling kettle.
The Doctor clapped his hands once, loud and sharp.
"QUIET!"
Shockingly, it worked. Dozens of eyes turned to him. Some fearful, some angry, some just plain baffled.
The Doctor leaned on the console, hands spread wide, smiling like the chaos belonged to him.
"Welcome. Don't ask where you are, you won't understand it. Don't ask how you got here, you won't like the answer. All you need to know is two things: one, don't touch anything—yes, I'm looking at you, Jack—and two… someone's playing with the rules of the universe. And I, my dear friends, hate when people do that."
Jack raised his hand innocently.
"And who the hell are you to give orders, eh?"
The Doctor whipped out the Psychic Paper with a flourish, holding it up like a badge.
Jack squinted, frowned, then blinked.
"Oh… Supreme Captain of the Interdimensional Council of Rum and Adventure… does that even exist?"
"It does now," the Doctor said with a wicked grin, tucking the paper back into his coat.
The chaos wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
And outside… something was stirring within the cracks that still hadn't fully sealed.