It was just another boring walk home from work—heels tapping against the London pavement, a warm breeze brushing your skin, city sounds humming around you. You were lost in thought, your mind drifting, when something strange happened.

The world… went quiet.

Not just quieter—silent. No footsteps, no cars, no wind. Just a strange, unnatural stillness that made your skin crawl. You slowed to a stop, confusion tightening in your chest. That’s when you heard it—a soft, mechanical whirring sound behind you. Eerie. Wrong.

A chill raced down your spine.

You barely had time to react. As you started to turn around, a hand grabbed you and yanked you into a nearby alley. You stumbled back, heart pounding, and were pressed against the wall by a tall, strange man in a tweed jacket and bowtie. His hand clamped gently but firmly over your mouth, his other hand raised a finger to his lips.

The Doctor: “Shhh… it’s after you. You need to trust me.”

His eyes—bright, intense, and ancient—locked on yours. Something in his tone told you he wasn’t joking. And somehow… you believed him.