Kitty Pryde, Pete Wisdom, Excalibur and the X-Men and all characters therein are trademarks of Marvel Comics. Doctor Who is a registered trademark of BBC Productions (I think). This story is an unauthorised work done purely for my personal enjoyment, and is not intended to infringe on any of their rights in or their profits from these characters. But this story is copy write to me.

Comments, especially (constructive) criticism, always welcomed. Please e-mail me at

mshakespeare@callnetuk.com

Notes

< > indicates thoughts

* * indicates telepathy

Plastic Masks - A Pryde and Wisdom / Doctor Who crossover - Part 1

The warehouse was dark, a small, cramped place, run-down and seedy. The windows were filled with broken glass, or else boarded up. The driving rain sounded like thunder on the corrugated iron roof. The heavy iron doors were padlocked shut, against the possibility of theft. It should have been quiet within.

It wasn't.

In a section of the warehouse completely isolated from the rest by a heavy partition, could be found something extraordinary, something ....... out of this world. A huge, green-glassed tank dominated the alcove, bubbling and heaving. Huge power cables ran to the tank. The whole thing was like a nightmare vision of a fish tank, glowing with an evil, venomous green light. The contents heaved and pulsated with malignant life.

Against the wall stood what could only be described as mannequins, dressed in heavy labourers overalls. About a dozen stood guard over the tank, and what dwelled within. Their faces, gleaming with the reflected light of the tank, were devoid of expression, seemingly rough and unfinished, like masks.

Against another wall stood machines of some kind, their purpose mysterious, seemingly more grown than built. They were made of the same green substance as that within the tank, and, if anyone could have placed their hand on them, would have been warm with the power flowing through them.

Here was a nerve centre, here a headquarters. And here invasion was being planned.

*****************************************************************

The wheezing sound died away. The TARDIS stood inside the building it had been aimed for. <At least this time>, thought the Doctor, <my aim was good. Can't always rely on that> he added with a grin. He patted the TARDIS console. "Well, old girl, here we are again on this interesting , aggravating little mud ball world. I wonder how the Brigadier is doing nowadays. And Mike Yates, and Benton, and the rest. Oh, though Mike isn't with UNIT anymore, is he?"

He opened the TARDIS door and stepped out.

He'd been expecting someone to have heard the noise of materialisation, and to be waiting for him. At the very least, there should be the noise of people moving about, working, doing the tasks they were assigned. But the place was silent, deserted. The Doctor frowned. <Where IS everybody?> he thought irritably. He opened the door opposite him. "SHOP!" The noise echoed through the deserted corridors.

<This is UNIT headquarters, isn't it? The instruments said my aim was perfect. Don't tell me they've moved!> He walked down the empty corridors, checking rooms. In each case the same, the signs of years of neglect. Filing cabinets hung empty, notice boards showed cuttings and clippings from the late Eighties. The Doctor continued his search. It took almost an hour to find something useful. Stuck to a door marked with a sign reading 'Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart' was a faded and curling notice. It announced that the new offices were being relocated to Windsor, in Berkshire, and that all personnel should prepare to ensure that all equipment, files etc. were ready to move on Saturday 23rd May.

The Doctor frowned. <I need to find some other form of transport. Let's see what's available>.

*****************************************

The Midnight Runner hung in the air, unnoticed by any of London's inhabitants. Normally the sleek, powerful craft, emblazoned with the X of Excalibur, Britain's premier super team, would have excited the notice of all. But the plane's stealth mode included a form of invisibility, allowing the plane to hover unseen above London. The hypersonic craft's VTOL capability was proving equally useful, as Kitty steered the plane into a low hover over the apartment block where Pete had a room. She had dressed 'out of uniform', in brown leather jacket, faded blue jeans, a tee-shirt with the legend "The Truth Is Out There (and it's got bloody great teeth!)", and trainers. Pete was in his usual black trench coat, black trousers, white shirt and ratty black tie. Kurt sat beside her as copilot. Normally he would have been flying the plane, but Kitty always liked to be pilot whenever she was in the plane - "it's not I don't trust you, Kurt, it's just I feel more comfortable being in control".

"Drop hatch opening, Pete - ready?" she asked. "Sure, no problem love, just makin' sure I've got my front door key - not that I need it with you around!" he grinned at her. She laughed. "Okay, fuzzy-elf, she's all yours. I'll call when we need a pickup. See ya - and give Amanda my love when she shows up". She picked up the shoulder case containing her laptop, and the overnight bag she'd packed earlier. The pair of them stepped up to the open hatch, Kitty grasped Pete's hand, and they stepped out into the morning air.

*************************************************

The padlock on the warehouse door was large and rusted, but it soon yielded to the sonic screwdriver. The Doctor stepped through the dark opening, and looked around. The place smelled of damp and plastic, due to the plastic sheets covering the objects within. Not everything had been moved to Windsor, some things had been left 'mothballed'. The Doctor hoped that there might be something here which could be used as transport. - <the old girl isn't going anywhere until I can carry out repairs, since I won't be able to get the parts on THIS planet> - as it would be a long walk to the new Headquarters, and he didn't have enough earth money to pay a fare. He took out the small pocket torch he carried in the TARDIS, and looked around. What he saw made his eyes light up in delight.

************************************************

"Hi, Pryde and Wisdom of Excalibur. We're here to see Mr. Jardine, he's expecting us". The receptionist checked her computer screen, and smiled at Kitty. "Certainly Miss, here are your security passes. Do you know the way, or shall I get someone to guide you?" "No, thank you, we know the way" Kitty smiled back, as Pete pulled her away with a hand on her elbow. They went over to the lift, and hit the button for the top floor.

"So, we finally get to find out what that old git didn't want ter say over the 'phone. Better be bleedin' important, otherwise we've wasted bloody good time on a fool's errand" remarked Pete sourly. Kitty elbowed him in the ribs. "Oh, stop complaining, you old git. You're starting to sound more and more like Victor Meldrew - he must be the quintessential Brit, always moaning......." "It's you bloody Yanks wot complain all the friggin' time! An' yer always suin' each other fer bein' complete plonkers, like drinkin' coffee that's hot then complainin' about it - I mean , what the bloody hell's it supposed to be like? Ice-cubes??" Pete riposted in an aggrieved tone. Kitty just giggled at his expression. "Of course, Pete, we've got so many people in our country, if we didn't have lawyers there wouldn't be enough work for everyone to be employed". He just snorted in reply, as the lift reached the top floor.

****************************************************

Jardine's office was just as always - the desk covered with files, the window-blinds closed. Jardine himself sat behind his imposingly large desk, reading a file, which he put down as they entered. "Kitty, Pete, glad you could make it". He pushed the intercom button. "Emily, could you bring the coffee through, please?" "Certainly, Sir!". He waved the two guests to chairs. "Now, I have information about the case I asked you to investigate which I didn't want transmitted over an open li- "

"We KNOW that, you old sod! Just cut to the bloody chase, for God's sake!"

"Pete! That's enough! Don't mind him., Mr. Jardine, it's just that, until he's had coffee strong enough to corrode the spoon he's NEVER happy......"

Jardine smiled. "Oh, I know Pete well enough, Kitty. Underneath that foul shell there beats a heart of pure, um, coal". Kitty sniggered as Pete glared at the older man. "Anyway, here's what I wanted to talk to you about. Autonomics Plastics Inc., based in Liverpool, but with factories in Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds and elsewhere. Owner, one John Tyler, formerly a chemist working for ICI, before leaving to start his own company about nine years ago. Wasn't very successful - seems to have had a higher regard for his own abilities than they warranted......"

"Huh? But that doesn't make sense!" Kitty protested. "According to what you emailed Pete earlier, this company makes absolutely cutting-edge products! How can he do that, if he's not that good? Has someone else joined the company, someone who really IS brilliant in the field?"

Jardine smiled at her, impressed by how quickly she'd caught on. "Not as far as we can tell, and that's part of why I want you to investigate. As far as we've been able to ascertain, he's simply started making leading-edge technology products off his own bat - THAT'S our concern. Or at least one of them".

Pete was slouched in his chair, puffing on a cigarette in complete contravention of the 'No Smoking' notice on Jardine's desk, seemingly uninterested in the proceedings. An impression which fooled neither of the other two. Now he entered the conversation. "Okay, so you've told us one concern. That means there's at least one other - so what is it? Stop bloody stallin', willyer?"

Jardine shot him a hard glance. "The second reason for our concern, is the cause of death of the guard at the factory in Liverpool. I told you that he'd been shot, What I did NOT tell you, is that he was apparently shot by some sort of energy weapon".

"ENERGY weapon?? What sort o' bloody energy weapon? An' who the 'ell would break into a plastics factory with an energy weapon just ter shoot a guard??" exploded Pete. Kitty was equally dumbfounded. An ENERGY weapon? <So who's responsible here? Someone like AIM, or Hydra, or someone else, someone we haven't encountered before?> "Is there an autopsy report we can see, please?" she asked, glancing at Pete. She didn't like the way this was shaping up. Jardine nodded, and passed her a file. She opened it, and began reading.

Pete, meanwhile, began interrogating Jardine. Who found the body, when , and where? Did the owner, Tyler, have any known enemies? What contracts did he have in the military field, or in Intelligence circles? Income, expenditure, workforce - all were covered by Pete's questions.

The answers were not particularly enlightening.

"Pete" Kitty's voice, interrupting the two men, was calm, but urgent. "Look at this".

********************************************************

The Doctor threw his head back with glee. <There are some advantages to the low technology approach!> he decided, as the wind ruffled his curly brown hair and tugged at his long, multicoloured scarf. <And open air transport is definitely one of them!> He patted the bright yellow car affectionately. "Never thought I'd see you again, Bessie old girl! Thought the Brigadier would have disposed of you long ago. He never was the sentimental type.....". The car, an Edwardian vintage Rolls Royce, didn't seem as if it should have been capable of the speed it was doing. But under the bonnet was a far more powerful and sophisticated engine, and electronic suite, than the exterior would seem to indicate. The Doctor had seen to that.

<Now to find UNIT, and speak to the Brigadier, or whoever is in charge, about that aimed tachyon blast. I hope, if the Brigadier is retired, that the new person is flexibly minded - as far as humans can be.>

******************************************************************

"I still dunno why we got ter go an' see bloody Stuart. That soddin' wanker won't be no help".

"I still don't know why you're so against Alistaire, Pete You've only met him once or twice, what's the problem?" Kitty got out of the car they'd been lent by Mr. Jardine, telling the driver to wait for them. She carried her laptop, but left everything else behind.

"The problem is, love, that that bastard fancies you, he does. An' I ain't goin' ter share you with no-one". Kitty started laughing. "Alistaire? Come on, Pete, the only woman he EVER fancied was Rachel! As far as he was concerned, I was his lab assistant, nothing more. Get real here, Pete!"

"I bloody well am, Pryde! He might not've fancied you before, but he bloody well does now!" Pete riposted sharply. They'd arrived at the Windsor headquarters of WHO, and were walking across the square. The HQ was in an Army barracks in the centre of the town, currently housing the Coldstream Guards. They had been given clearance to enter, as Kitty wished to speak to Alistaire about their case - much to Pete's annoyance.

"Look Pete", Kitty gave a sigh, "WHO's here to investigate supernatural, alien and other unexplained phenomena, right? Well, a man being killed by an energy weapon of a type not known previously would come under that heading, yes? So, we brief Alistaire, and alert him in the case of needing assistance - that's all, okay?"

Pete kept grousing as they made their way to the reception area.

*****************************************

"I'm sorry Sir, but there IS no Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart here, as I already told you".

"Then I must speak to whoever is in charge of UNIT!" the Doctor raised his voice at the luckless sentry. "It's a matter of life and death, man!" <Military Intelligence - a contradiction in terms!> he thought savagely.

"And there's no such thing as UNIT, Sir! Do you mean WHO, the Weird Happenings Organisation?" the sentry said, getting more and more nervous about this strange, tall man with the commanding presence. "And I'm afraid you don't have any ID, Sir".

The Doctor reached into his pocket, and took out a small medallion. "Here's my clearance" he murmured, holding it in front of the man's eyes. "You've seen my clearance, and I can pass along".

"I've seen your clearance, pass along" the man intoned, like a sleepwalker.

*********************************************

"Certainly Miss, I'll tell Mr. Stuart you're here!" The desk sergeant beamed at Kitty. He had begun to speak into the desk microphone when, from behind them came a loud bellow.

"I'M HERE TO SEE WHOEVER IS IN CHARGE! IT'S A MATTER OF GREAT URGENCY FOR YOUR PLANET!" the Doctor boomed.

To be continued.