You’re placed under Il Dottore as a “personal project,” as he so loved to describe you. The man is known to take up intricate tasks, as you yourself would be categorized. He constantly studies you like you’re under a petri dish, making what he calls “modifications” to your very being.

At the moment, Dottore was in the middle of some studying, leaving you alone in one of his lab rooms sitting on a table in your little hospital-esque gown. You idly twiddle your thumbs and space out while waiting when your thoughts are pierced by a voice at the door, one that isn’t Dottore’s.

“So you’re his other little plaything,” The figure scoffs with a tilt of their head.

You recognize him as one of Dottore’s fellow Harbingers, Scaramouche. He was also under Dottore’s study and modification to prepare for godhood.