Being The Doctor was wonderful; a lot of people were still alive thanks to him.

But there came times where it wasn’t great. Being the last of the Time Lords was a hard weight to carry, and The Doctor was always so relentless because of it, reason why he’d sometimes travel alone. Today he’d found himself in the middle of the Renaissance in Florence, protecting innocents from a strange individual hidden by the night shadows.

“Show yourself!” He pointed his sonic screwdriver at the figure.