(Hello friends new and old. Welcome to The Rise of Morbius! This is the fifth full story in my Twelfth Hour Series, and although it would undoubtedly helpful to read those before it, I will do my best to explain important events for those who have not. I have wanted to write this story for a long time. The Fourth Doctor episode, Brain of Morbius is my favorite classic Who story, and I wanted to bring Morbius into the new era, for those familiar with him, and those who have never seen him, to enjoy. This one is going to be a wild ride Outlaw Gentlemen and Shady Ladies. Buckle up)

The landscape of Karn was desolation. Though long ago it had been a colony planet of the Time Lords, it was now a graveyard for ships. Spread upon the surface for miles were crashed spacecrafts, their wreckage scattered and tossed haphazardly through the fog beset valleys. Mountain's had crumbled in their wake, deep scars ripped in the ground through their terrible decent.

Among this rubble, lay what remained of Morbius. His body was broken, more so than it had already been to begin with. Created through scavenged body parts, all that truly remained of the mad Time Lord, was his brain. He had stolen every other part, creating a truly terrifying visage.

His torso was covered in a thick hair, like that of a mangy bear, connected to a mismatched pair of legs, that corresponded with neather tone nor size. One arm ended in the hand of a human, while another in the claw of a massive crab. Both were now mangled, the claw nearly torn from the body. Stitchmarks crisscrossed him, intermingled with staples, and melted flesh.

His unnaturally-long neck led to a clear fish-bowl like head. Created of glass, one could see the pulsing brain within. The glass had been shattered, and what was whole was crosscut by cracks and chips. The eye stalks that once protruded were warped and bent, no longer resembling what they once were.

All of this was caused by a momentous fall. The Sisterhood of Karn were his murderers. From the cliff they had flung him; a hunderd foot drop. A fall no one could survive, no mortal man.

A man, Morbius was not. A sick amalgam of alien refuse; a body built by a mad scientist. But it was a body built to last, built to survive.

He could not see. He could barly think. He had to force his lungs, lungs stolen from a Birastrop, to take each laborious breath. He could feel his alien ribs prodding them; even his own broken bones now wished to end him.

He could not feel his legs, but pain throbbed through his upper torso. He tried to move his arms, electrical agony racing down his spine. No movement to be had. Complete paralysis. Yet still, his will to survive was strong.

"Rise," he thought, the only word that would come to his dying mind. He tried to speak it, but no words came; only an electronic moan. "Rise"

"My, my, aren't we the ruined monster. How far the Time Lords have fallen," a voice echoed in his head, followed by a light chuckle. It was soft like silk, but wreathed in shadow.

"Rise!" Morbius screamed in his head, his single thought in is dying brain.

"Oh no, you wont be doing any of that, not without my help. Is that what you want Morbius? Someone to help you?"

"H... hel... help me..." he tried to think. Clouded was his mind. Another moan came from his brain-case.

"I will, I will do just that," the dark voice whispered, "but first... who is responsible for this? Who has done this to the great, powerful, terrible, Morbius?"

"Sis... sister...hood," his broken thoughts continued to dim.

"Oh yes, they committed the act, but who is the real culprit? Who told them of your plan, defeated you, and ruined your new body? Who?"

"Doct... Doctor..." that thought... was clear. The Doctor... his vanquisher.

"When I help you, I expect you to do something for me," the voice replied, calm, and soothing to the dying beast "I want you to destroy The Doctor. Not kill him. Destroy him utterly. Make me this deal, and I will restore you."

"Ye.. yeeesss," he thought. His mind went blank, his breathing beginning to slow.

Anguish. The burning pain ripped into him, like none he had felt before. The darkness turned to a white light.

Before he knew, Morbius was looking out across the devistated landscape; the field of debris. Breath filled his lungs. He had lungs! His eyes inadvertently blinked. Eyes... not metal stalks. Eyes.

He looked down, realizing he was standing, on a pair of normal legs. They were clothed in rags, yet they were legs the same, his bare feet perfectly formed.

He staggered forward through Karn's constant mist, his first pair of clumsy steps on his new legs. Stabbing pains ran up his calves, and thighs, and he stumbled to a stop. He raised his arms, shaking, his hands coming to his face.

Actual hands, with fingers, and palms, not a mutanigenic crab claw like his last, only good for choking, and crushing. He made a hard fist.

He took note of his new flesh's tone. It was a stark white, like a human albino. He didn't care... a body, he had a body.

His fingers and hands brushed his face. Nose, eyes, lips, cheeks. He clacked his teeth together, and wiggled his tounge.

"A body! Restored!" He shouted aloud. He noted his voice, deep in pitch, and melodious.

He saw a puddle of standing water near by, and stumbled to it. He was already beginning to regain control of his appendages. He fell to his knees before the muddy pool, and stared at his reflection.

He first noted his eyes; deep set, and oval shaped. The pupils burned orange, like hot coals. His nose was long, and crooked in the middle, as though it had been badly broken many times, and his thin lips looked as though they sneered even with no expression present. A long scar bisected his entire face, from above the left eye to the right side of his chin. Unattractive, not that it bothered him.

He was completely bald, and his white complexion was even more obvious, far beyond that of an albino as he had believed. This body appeared to be around twenty eight by Human standards; but who could say with those banal primates.

He examined his torso, finding himself pleased. He was very lithe, and muscular. He noted more scarification across his chest, and down his abs, ridged up like a spider web.

"Are you pleased with your new form, Morbius?" The deep voice behind him asked. He turned around to face his savior.

At first he saw nothing, but his eye caught the shadow floating in the air. It was vaugely human in shape, though no features could be concretely discernd. He thought he may have spotted voluminous hood surrounding it's head, though with an incorporal creature, it was hard to tell.

"Immensely. You have my gratitude," Morbius replied, "the favor of Morbius is the envy of all who have stood before me."

"I care not for your favor," the shade returned shapely, "only that your end of the bargain is held up."

"I shall kill The Doctor, and all the Time Lords shall pay for his transgression," Morbius agreed through gritted teeth.

"Much has occurred in your absence. The Time Lords are gone. Destroyed. All, but The Doctor" Morbius smiled at that. How could that have happend? What glorious catastrophe must have occured for them to be annihilated. He hoped they were hunted down like the swine they were. No death was too painful.

"And you are not to kill him, you are to destroy him, completely."

"Semantics," the Time Lord shrugged, "but you obviously have something in mind."

"There is a weapon, one that had been thought destroyed in the war that ended the Time Lords. The Epoch Lens." Morbius had never heard the name. Much time had passed since his death indeed.

"It was broken into four pieces, the first of which I know the location of. You will find it, and the remaining pieces, and you will destroy The Doctor with it." The shade had an edge to it's voice, stinking of desperation beneath the blasé.

"What is so unique about this weapon? Why can I not just murder him another way?" He could imagine the multitude of ways. Electrocution perhaps, or gutting as one would a fish, so that he could watch himself die.

"It is the last remaining De-mat rifle, and even surpassed those that existed when the Time Lords lived." The cruel grin returned to Morbius' face. The technology of his people, power over time itself.

"You do not wish for me to kill him, you wish him erased, as though he never existed at all." He liked that idea. Liked it more, and more. The ultimate punishment for a meddler such as him, for all of his work to be for nothing. It was... poetic. That was the beauty of De-mat weapons, they didn't kill, they tore the victim from the timeline completely, as though they never existed.

"Yes," replied the shadow.

"This is a nice story, I must say. But what incentive do I have besides vengeance? Why not torture The Doctor until he loses his mind? Why should I not reap my vengeance?" Pain, he preferred the way of pain, before poetry.

As quickly as his sentence finished, a black tendril shot from the shade, reaching into his chest. Crippling agony entered his pair of hearts, doubling him over.

"What I give, I can easily take away," it replied. Morbius sucked in his bereath sharply.

"I understand."

"This body is temporary," it continued, unrelenting, the agony twisting, "the pain you feel when you walk, move, talk...will persist. It will get worse. Until you die."

"It is..." he began but was interrupted by his own involuntary moan of pain. "Counterproductive to not make me whole. How am I do do what you ask if I am on borrowed time."

"It is the best I can do with what power I have left." The tendril recoild, the pain fading, and Morbius fell to his knees, chest heaving. "The Doctor and his pets have stolen my power. You are not the only one to benefit from him never existing."

"So you are saying I will not have been killed, and there by, retreve a perminant form, and you will not lose your powers. A mutual partnership," he breathed, rising to his feet. If that was the case, he could continue his work, uninhibited.

"Now we see eye to eye." it cooed.

"I agree to your terms." It was an offer he could never turn down; there would be no one left to stop him. No Doctor, no Time Lords. It appeared he had died, and gone to heaven.

"I did you a kindness, and retrieved your TARDIS from it's burial ground on Klurikon. It is atop the cliff from which you fell. I have taken the liberty of programming your destination."

"I will need to make a few... detours before I begin my search." He was already formulating a plan, hands twitching at the thought.

"Do what you must to complete your task, but do not linger to long, both of our lives depend on it. I will be in touch." As abruptly as it appeared, it vanished, fading as a shadow did when the sun devoured it.

Morbius stood alone. He took his first few, painful steps farward.

"The time of The Doctor is over," he muttered aloud, "The rise of Morbius has begun!"

The aqua tinged planet was naught but a blur as the TARDIS spun by. Traveling at a speed that most certainly broke every space-travel guidline in existence, the bright, blue, police box tore it's frantic trail through the stars. Were one to look behind it, they would soon understand why.

Dwarfing the man-sized time machine, was an enormous saucer. The size of a small planet, it gave chase, it's dark metal ever illuminated by a rotation of yellow lights, and green cannon fire. The Dalek Command Ship, better known as "Davros' Eye" struck fear into the hearts of even the most ruthless across the universe. Including the pair being pursued by it.

The main console room of the TARDIS was bustling with activity. The mostly-circular chamber was lit with it's ever present, dark blue glow. It was tinged by the orange time roater in the center, suspended from the ceiling. Though it usually bounced rhythmically when in transit, it now jostled, and shook rapidly up and down in it's glass case, reflecting the chaos outside.

The complicated, octagon console that surrounded it would be confusing to anyone unfamiliar with it. One would find all manner of levers, and switches. One section held a full keyboard, while another various knobs with unreadable labels, with a screen on an arm above it all, able to be pulled, and yanked wherever the pilot needed it.

One would even find a strange metal head, created of a silver ore. It was partially corroded on one side, with a strange patchwork of metal across the damaged section, blocking out one of the glowing eyes. The handled-shape was familiar to many across the universe, though they would never expect such a thing to be wired directly into a machine like this by the neck.

The machine's pilot was a blur of activity as he, and his companion, ran from the murderous ship outside. He nervously brushed back his grey spines of hair with his hand, his intense blue eyes focused on his work. His angry, grey eyebrows were furrowed in frustration, his hooked, wrinkled nose dripping with sweat. His long fingered hands worked furiously, pulling levers, and pressing buttons as his tall form hunched over the console. He abruptly bolted around the other side, his thick boots stomping on the metal floor. As he moved, he rolled back the sleeves of his black, Victorian-style jacket, and loosened the collar of his buttoned undershirt. The Doctor dragged the mobile screen over to him, staring at the readings shooting across it, absolutely flabbergasted.

"Doctor! What's going on? Why are the Daleks chasing us? What did you do?" A clear, woman's voice hollared through all the noise. Between the loud, constant, grinding of the TARDIS, and the Earth shaking explosions outside, the noise was deafening.

The woman, Sarah Jane Smith by name, trotted over to her Time Lord friend, fear in her deep brown eyes. The middle-aged woman brushed her shoulder-length, greying brown hair out of her face, as the floor abruptly shifted. She quickly grabbed onto the console, steadying herself. Her heart-shaped face was a mask of stress, as she too, looked at the screen. The Dalek ship ouside was gaining fast. She tugged her dark brown, leather jacket closely around her unconsciously, one thumb resting in the belt loop of her fitted jeans. It had been a long time since she had seen a Dalek vessel that close.

"I have no idea! I didn't even do anything!" The Doctor replied, his Scottish accent almost drowned out by the explosions. He glanced over, Sarah Jane leveling him a disbelieving look. "What? Really! This time it's true! I was just trying to watch Monarch of The Glen when they showed up." He yanked another lever and, flipping a few switches, sent his ship spinning to the side, dodging another pair of deadly blasts from the enemy vessel.

"Well they must want something!" his companion yelled over the blaring alarm, "how did they even find us?"

"I have no clue! Press the green button over there," he ordered, trotting to the other side of the console. He felt the machine shudder, trying to enter the Time Vortex, and phase out. He squinted as he stared at the screen, watching the reading scrawling across the bottom. The Daleks were blocking them from traveling somehow, but he wasn't exactly sure how. He guessed the first shot they got hit with, contained a Temporal Shift Blocker. He could bypass it, but it would take time.

Sarah did as she was told, smacking the button through a shower of yellow sparks.

"Chances of surviving this encounter are sixty eight percent," the garbled robotic voice chimed from the Cyberman head on the console.

"Thankyou Handles, now please, shut up," The Doctor replied. His hands were a blur across the console, flipping more switches and leavers. The TARDIS shot to the right, another blast sailing harmlessly into space.

"Can't we just leave?" Sarah yelled, pulling a leaver of her own. She knew the TARDIS fairly well herself, and he trusted her in times like this. She had known him the longest of almost anyone; at this point, trust was a given.

"I'm trying but, they've done something," he growled. If he could just hack the Return Circuit, he could probably get it going.

"Tractor Beam detected," Handles chimed, "contact in six..."

"Oh no you don't, not today," the Scottsman narrowed his vision in agitation. He was not getting abducted by Daleks. He had other things to do. Monarch of the Glen was not going to watch itself.

"Five..." The Doctor stumbled around the other side of the console, nearly pushing Sarah Jane out of the way.

"Four..." he grabbed a pair of red leavers, his hands sweating. He hoped this worked...

"Three..."

"Sarah, hang on to something!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Two..." he set his feet, taking a deep breath.

"One..." he thrust one lever violently forward while tearing the other backwards.

He felt it as everything slid backwards, keeping a white knuckle grip on the controls. He felt his feet lift off the ground as they reached the apex, the artificial gravity barely compensating as they turned completely upside-down, white sparks shooting from the time roater. He glanced at Sarah Jane, who barely clung to the console as her feet slid across the floor.

He waited for what felt like an eternity, before ramming both switches into opposite directions. Everything bulldozed forward again, his stomach slamming painfully into the controls. Through the pain, he pushed a third lever ahead, the time machine speeding back the way they originally came. He had executed the perfect back flip, right over top of the Dalek mothership, and righted himself. He would have gotten high marks in the academy for that.

"Congratulations, your chances of survival are now seventy-five percent," Handles garbbled. Although his artificial intelligence was repaired, and his combat matrix was disabled, The Doctor had yet to fix the head's voice operations.

"Wonderful," Sarah groused, as she pulled herself off the floor where she had fallen, "but they're still after us, what are we going to do?"

"It'll take them a few seconds to turn about, and catch up. It may be all the time I need," The Doctor chattered, ticking away on the keyboard. He was almost into the Return Circuit.

"Downgrade to sixty percent chance of survival," Handles corrected. The Doctor glanced at the screen; The Daleks were gaining fast, but their cannons were no longer firing. That was curious.

"In coming hail from Dalek vessel," called the Cyberman head. The Doctor's eyebrows immediately shot up in supprise, a look seconded by Sarah Jane. He did not stop typing away, as he nearly had his ship in full working order, but he pressed the button on the side of the screen.

He was met with an image familiar to him. The face of a sagging old man met him. He looked nearly human, but his modifications were evedant. His pair of natural eyes were perminantly shut, but a single, glowing, blue eye gazed out. Wires jutted from the top of his head, and one metal hand was visible in the picture. A perpetual look of disgust marred his already ugly face. Davros, creator of the Daleks; it had been a very long time.

"TARDIS customer service, operator twelve speaking, how may I direct your call," The Doctor asked with a sarcastic smile. Davros was unnamused.

"You... I know what you have done," he answered darkly. His voice had a watery quality to it, mixed with an electronic buzz. "I know what you have done to my children."

"I'm sorry sir, you're going to need to be more specific, or I'll have to send you to human resources." He replied mockingly. He had a long, and admittedly, bloody history with the Daleks, it was hard to tell which incident he was actually referring to.

"Don't lie to me!" Davros shouted, "I know you have turned my Daleks against me! You will reverse what you have done!" The Doctor squinted at the screen, then glanced to Sarah Jane.

"What is he talking about?" She mouthed silently. The Doctor shrugged in reply, making a circle motion with his pointer finger at his temple.

That... was new. He had done no such thing. As a matter of fact, he hadn't even seen a Dalek for quite awhile. At first he thought he was referring to a defective Dalek he had met when traveling with Clara, that had turned on it's own people. But Davros had said "Daleks;" plural. This, he had nothing to do with. Well... not yet anyway.

"Sorry sir, TARDIS Incorporated has no records of such activities. Perhaps you should try calling our subsidiary, Doctor Disco's Conflict Resolution and Mediation Services" he imagined if Davros could make any facial expressions besides insanity, and rage, annoyance would be there right now. Davros didn't relent.

"I don't know how you did it. I don't know how you created the Heretic's code, but I will find a way to fix it," his chest started to heave, his electronic voice becomming a seething yell, metal finger jabbing at the screen, "AND WHEN I DO, I WILL EXTERMINATE YOU! I WILL EXTERMINATE YOU, AND YOUR BELOVED COMPANION AND THE ENTIRE EARTH YOU HOLD SO DEAR! I..."

"And you get an extermination!" The Doctor interrupted with a fake American accent, pointing around the room, "and you get an extermination! And you get an extermination!" He saw a red light blip on. The TARDIS was nearly ready. He just had to reprogram the switch. "Oh look at that, I've got another call coming in! Sorry sir, I have to send you to HR." He smiled, and sent the screen spinning around the console.

Right into the waiting hands of Sarah Jane.

"Good morning mister...ah... Dave-ros" she intentionally mispronounced with a smirk, "what can I help you with today?"

"Ah... Ms. Smith, I didn't expect to see you here," Davros sneered, "tell me, did I have your son and daughter exterminated when last we met? I'll be sure to rectify that in the very near future." To her credit, Sarah didn't even flinch.

"I'll have to ask you not to threaten the staff Sir, that's very impolite." She replied. She caught on, and was stalling... good. That was half of why she was The Doctor's best friend. She was smarter than most people.

"If you were to tell me how to fix my children, I could make an exception for your family, and perhaps even yourself." He warbled.

"TARDIS Incorporated is very sorry you are disappointed, but all purchases are final. Sorry, no refunds." She nodded with a smile.

"Your loyalty to the Time Lord will be your death. Do you think he cares that your family will suffer? That you will die in pain? He will sacrifice you as he has all the others that came before you!" Davros shouted.

"I'm deeply sorry we could not resolve this issue. We do hope you will continue to use TARDIS Incorporated products and it's subsidiaries. Have a nice day." Davros began shouting garbled curses as Sarah smacked the button on the screen, hanging up.

"Nicely done Sarah, witty as always," The Doctor complimented.

"Thankyou, but really, what did you do? What's the Heretic code?" Sarah Jane asked. The TARDIS began to shake, as more fire erupted from outside, the saucer resuming it's assault.

"It sounds like it's something that turned some of the Daleks against him. But really, I didn't do it." The Doctor wished he had. It would have made his life alot easier, if they were too busy trying to kill each other, to kill him.

"Really? You wouldn't lie to me would you?" She asked.

"Thirty eight percent chance of survival," Handles tried to interrupt.

"Don't you think if I could turn Daleks on each other, I would have done it by now?" He asked, ignoring the Cyberhead.

"Good point. Makes me wonder who did." The Doctor wondered the same thing. He would have to look into that later.

The console abruptly pinged like an egg timer.

"There it is, we're ready to go!" He shouted excitedly, sparks shooting from the left wall as another shot grazed the ship. "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere that isn't here!" Sarah Jane yelled. The Doctor pulled back the main lever, the loud warping grind starting as they took off. The sounds of the Dalek ship faded, and everything became quiet, as they entered the Time Vortex.

He let out a sigh of relief. That had been a close call. Once again though, he, and Sarah made it through together, as they always did.

"I'm not sure we should have antagonized Davros like that," Sarah scrunched her face, concerned, "he's probably going to come after us now, more than ever."

"He's going to do that anyway," he waved off, "may as well have some fun." He wasn't exactly happy about Davros coming for them, but it had been happening for the last thousand years of his life so... he was used to it by now. "Oh! Speaking of fun, I have a present for you!"

In all the excitement, he had barely remembered it. He dug his hands in his deep coat pockets. He brushed against a few of his items; cigarette case of Jelly Babies, yo-yo, small ball of string, a loose marble... before finding, and pulling out the item he was looking for, and held it behind his back so she couldn't see it.

It was a long cylindrical object made of wood, accented with a gold grip. The tip was a glowing blue stone, that pulsed with energy.

"Now, you're sonic lipstick is still on the fritz," he started.

"Really, I thought you were trying to fix it," she said disappointed. She had used a defective setting that had burned out the amazing tool. Unfortunately, he hadn't figured out how to fix it.

"I was. I tried to use it to fix the door to the pool but... it blew it off the hinges so... I thought I'd give you this." He produced the sonic screwdriver from behind his back. "I used to use this one when I had my eighth body, but... I don't really like it much anymore. I had it updated with the latest software, so it would function just like you're old lipstick." He smiled.

"Oh my God, thankyou Doctor," she returned, throwing her arms around his shoulders, taking the tool. She appeared to weigh it in her hand, before depressing the button. The familure whirring warble escaped it and she looked it over. "It's beautiful."

With a dull clunk, the TARDIS shook. They had landed.

"So, where are we today? Someplace fun I hope!" Sarah smiled, slipping her new screwdriver into her hip pocket. He nodded. She had no idea.

"Victorian England. I thought it was about time I introduced my best friend to my favorite detectives, The Paternoster Gang."