Doctor Who_ Hope - Mark Clapham [13]
Contrary to his expectation that everyone here would be the same, Fitz could already make out different social groups. At the bottom of the pile were those who seemed to lurk around the market for no commercial reason, and were probably here mainly for the heat, sneaking close to a fire whenever the opportunity arose. Their clothes were little more than rags, their mouths and noses protected by grubby cloths wrapped around their faces. At the other end of the scale there were some aristocratic types around, Fitz recognising their status by the brightly coloured and elaborate masks over their mouths and noses, their sharper clothes and relaxed posture. However, their social status clearly didnt offer much protection, as these toffs moved in packs for safety, and wore pistols visibly to discourage anyone thinking of relieving them of their wealth.
In between the lowlifes and the rich tourists there were the natural inhabitants of a place like this, practically clad in thick, protective clothing like the militiamen they had seen earlier. These were the men and women buying and selling, dealing from stalls and elsewhere, dragging anyone they could find into games of chance and inadvisable bets. Fitz was just getting worried about where all this social conflict could lead when a fight broke out nearby.
The argument seemed to be over some kind of gambling debt, and was between a tall man in expensivelooking purple overalls and a shorter, more muscular figure in more ragged attire. As is traditional in these circumstances the bustling crowds had formed a circle around the two men as they began to push each other back and forth, shouting increasingly desperate insults. In the crowd Fitz, the Doctor and Anji stuck close together, just in case the conflict spread.
The excitement of the crowd increased as the shorter man pulled a gun from his coat, placing it under the taller mans chin. To Fitzs horror the Doctor broke away from them, pushing through the crowd to try and stop the inevitable, but he burst through the circle just too late. There was a sharp crack as the taller man became a head shorter, blood spraying out as the smouldering corpse collapsed to the ground.
That wasnt shouted the Doctor, stopping short as the killer turned his weapon around towards him. Fitzs guts tightened as the Doctor and the killer stared each other down. Then the gun was lowered and the short man casually walked away, leaving the Doctor to be pushed aside by the crowd, eager to strip the corpse of any valuable belongings.
This is a terrible place, said the Doctor as Fitz and Anji caught up with him. Anger seemed to have rooted him to the spot, and Fitz didnt dare touch him, nervous of what might happen if he interfered. Murder is an acceptable street game, violence rules and no one dares challenge it. Civilisation is gone and savagery has taken its place.
They watched silently as the now naked corpse was tipped over the railings by the mob. A cheer rippled through the crowd as the body fell, disappearing into the darkness below.
Forget that other murder, said the Doctor coldly. No one else seems to care. Lets get the TARDIS and leave. Theres nothing for us here.
But surely we can do something? said Anji. We could contact the militia.
There was uproarious laughter at this, and the three travellers turned to see a small man standing behind a stall loaded with canisters, laughing shrilly within the depths of his voluminous grey coat. He was short, his dark, beady eyes were too close together for Fitzs liking and his smile was the wide smile of a predator about to bite somethings head clean off. Presumably he was hairless Fitz couldnt tell due to the mans huge balaclava.
From out of town, are we? asked the man, still giggling to himself. Considering they came from a different species, this seemed something of an understatement. Fitz suspected the guy was taking the piss. Militia, indeed.