Doctor Who_ Bad Therapy - Matthew Jones [28]
‘Right,’ the scarred man said, his voice bright with enthusiasm. ‘Who’s first?’
45
4
At Your Own Risk
‘I’ve had a shave today, thank you,’ the Doctor quipped, but Jack could see that his expression was grim. ‘And I doubt my young friend here needs one.’ The Doctor stepped forward and moved in front of Jack, putting himself between the two men.
The scar-faced man advanced on them. ‘That’s all right, ’cos I ain’t no barber.’
‘Really? Then you should put the razor away. There might be an accident.’
The man looked with genuine affection at the knife in his hand. ‘That’s the general idea,’ he added, and giggled softly.
‘You don’t have to try to hurt us,’ the Doctor said, suddenly serious. ‘You can just let us go. There’s nothing to be gained from harming us. We’ve already destroyed your blackmailing operation. It’s over.’
The man stepped forward until he was only a few feet from the Doctor. The embers of the fire lit the young man’s face from below, making his features look skeletal in the halflight. ‘I don’t have to hurt you. Oh, I should, I know.
My brother won’t tolerate anyone interfering in his affairs. Particularly not filthy little queers like you. But that’s not why I’m going to stick my knife into you. I’m gonna do that just ’cos I want to, that’s all. ‘Cos it’ll give me a thrill.’
And then he moved. Quickly. Too quickly for Jack to see the whole movement. The arm that held the knife arched down towards the Doctor. The blade slicing the air close to his throat.
The Doctor dropped into a fighting stance, knees slightly bent and arms protecting his face. Stepping forward, he swept his left arm out in front of him, blocking the attack. In one movement, the Doctor spun one hundred and eighty degrees, crouching slightly until he was under the thug. He tucked his hip into the man’s groin and straightened his leg quickly. The power of this movement was more than enough to send the ginger-haired man sailing over the Doctor’s shoulder, to land on his back on the hard cellar floor.
‘Venusian hip throw,’ the Doctor explained as if he were instructing a class at a dojo. ‘It’s actually designed for people with five arms, but it’s still effective on those of us who have to get by with two.’ He reached for Jack’s arm. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’
47
The ginger-haired man had climbed quickly to his feet and moved to the stairs, blocking the only means of escape. He looked shaken, clearly not expecting the little man to put up such a struggle, but he was unhurt.
‘You don’t get away from me that easily.’
The Doctor directed Jack towards the far wall of the cellar. Jack backed away quickly until he was standing by the little table. He was relieved to be out of the action. He hadn’t been involved in a fight since junior school and felt completely out of his depth.
Twice more the ginger-haired man attacked. The first time the Doctor tripped him as he lunged, and he sprawled at the Doctor’s feet, swearing loudly. Just as in the first attack, once the man hit the floor the Doctor disengaged, stepping back and allowing him to clamber to his feet. The Doctor had the opportunity to really hurt the man once he was on the ground, but instead he waited patiently for his adversary to climb to his feet and attack again.
The third and final time that the scar-faced man attacked, the Doctor’s mar-tial arts didn’t help him. He applied a painful-looking wrist-lock, but the ginger-haired man managed to pull an arm free and brought his elbow crashing into the Doctor’s stomach. The Doctor folded over, winded. As he gasped for air, the thug kicked him to the ground.
This time the scar-faced man didn’t waste time with boasts or threats. He dived on to the Doctor, straddling him, and started to pummel his head with his fists. The Doctor squirmed beneath him, trying to protect his face from the increasingly savage blows.
‘Jack!’ he shouted, his voice muffled by his hands. ‘Jack,