This was going to be a post yesterday, but my stomach was hurting a lot.
So far, the 6th chapter post for my fanfic since last week, and this week, which is not bad for me.
So to let you guys know, I'm doing college class again, but it's on Saturdays and Mondays at 8 and 9 am, unfortunately
And for the omega seed, I'm thinking to have it speak, I've been looking at all the other types of tardis, a lot of them can talk back, but i kind of like having the engineer be the only one able to understand omega
Also, should Omega be a custom grow tardis or be one of the types of time lords made tardis, like 89 or 100's? Let me know
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The night air hit her face like a slap. London rain, metallic and dirty, plastered her hair to her cheek as she landed in an alley. The glitch-fold that got her through the police hadn't exactly been… smooth. Her atoms still buzzed like they'd been playing hopscotch across probability.
She bent double, clutching her knees, laughing like a maniac.
"Woo! Ten points for Team Engineer. Style, grace, and an exit that makes David Blaine look like a children's party clown."
[You should know the master was playing with you if he was serious, you would have died before you birth you're next thought.]
The System pinged in her head. No box, no fanfare — just words sliding into her brain like graffiti on wet glass.
[Permanent XP Multiplier: 315%]
[Immediate XP Dump: 34,600 → Processed]
"Three hundred and FIFTEEN percent XP boost!" she shouted at the rain. "Ohhhh, System, you spoil me!"
The dry, scrolling words flickered across her vision.
[Nemesis Mechanic engaged. Permanent XP multiplier active: +315%.]
[Warning: Nemesis also scales in power.]
She blew a raspberry. "Yeah, yeah, fine print. Don't kill my vibe, text box."
[You are vibrating at unsafe enthusiasm levels.]
She gasped. "You can sass now? Oh, this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
Her feet slapped across the wet roof tiles as she skidded to a stop, crouching. The giddy laughter gave way to a sharp inhale. Focus. She had a boost. She had a nemesis. She had a ridiculous cosmic gamer cheat system. What she didn't have… was gear.
"Right. Inventory check." She clapped her hands, eyes rolling skyward. "Do I have anything cool yet? Like a laser screwdriver? Sonic spork?"
[Inventory: One (1) trenchcoat, one (1) TARDIS seed 'Omega,' one (1) suspicious amount of sarcasm.]
"Wow," she muttered, "that's pathetic. Even the Doctor starts with a screwdriver. I get sass and a houseplant."
The "houseplant" in question pulsed in her pocket. The seed of Omega, her future TARDIS, made a faint humming sound—like a smug cat.
"Don't you sass me, too," she hissed at it.
It pulsed again. Definitely sass.
Omega let out a psychic pulse; it wasn't words, but I got the feeling that it said(I'm going to say it female), "That's not a tool. That's a war crime on your wrist."
She gasped. "Oh my gods, you can sort of talk now!"
"I've always talked. You've just been too busy monologuing at cats to notice."
She clutched her chest. "My baby can sass! I'm so proud!"
"Don't call me baby. I'm older than your reincarnation body."
[Level Up.][Level Up.][Level Up.][Level Up.]...
[Level Up → LVL 6 → LVL 16]
[Stat Screen Opened]
Vitality: 150 → 164
Strength: 150 → 162
Dexterity: 50→ 64
Intellect: 150→ 163
Wits: 30→ 40
Luck: 150
[Core Perk Unlocked: Prototype Tech-Crafting]
Her eyes widened. "Oh-ho-ho… jackpot."
The words kept coming.
[Skill Unlock: Improvisation Lv.1]
[Skill Unlock: Gremlin Ingenuity Lv.1]
[Skill Unlock: Mad Science Lv.1]
"Gremlin Ingenuity?!" she screeched, startling a cat out of a trash bin. "Oh, that's offensive. That's accurate, but offensive."
She flicked her hand, pulling up the perk trees. Rows of glowing nodes like a gamer's fever dream hovered in her vision.
[Core Class Perk: Engineer of Time.]
[Specialization: Fabrication of tech that shouldn't exist.]
[Sub-Perk: Time-Tinkering — able to weave minor time dilation into gadgets.]
[Warning: May cause spontaneous paradoxes.]
"Ohhh, this is beautiful." She kicked her boots against the puddles. "Paradoxes are just the universe's way of saying 'try again but more heartbreaking'."
[New Design Slot unlocked → Omni-Tool Base Construction Available]
She flopped back against the wall on top of a roof, laughing until her sides hurt. "Oh, Master, you absolute beautiful bastard. You've basically given me a powerful tool."
The System chimed.
Quest Generated: 'The Hand that Builds'
[Objective: Construct Proto-Omni Tool.]
[Requirements: Alien alloys, advanced energy conduits, adaptable neural interfaces. Suggested source: UNIT Research Division.]
[Reward: Skill Tree [Techsmith], XP, and Omni-tool framework.]
She plopped down cross-legged and yanked out a rain-soggy notebook. Sketches tumbled across the page, drawing the design, manic scribbles of an Omni-tool design: part Mass Effect hologram, part Swiss Army knife, part eldritch glowstick.
"Okay, okay," she muttered, gnawing the pencil. "Needs modular tools, hardlight projector, hacking interface, plasma torch… oh, and coffee dispenser. Non-negotiable."
Omega pulsed, unimpressed.
"Shut up, Omega. Coffee is a weapon of survival."
The System chimed:
[Blueprint created: Engineer's Omni-Tool (Prototype). Status: 4% complete.]
She groaned. "Four percent?! That's, like… barely a button."
She sighed, tapping the pencil against her forehead. "And where can I find a unit base in 2006 England, hmm?"
Omega vibrated. A psychic pulse from the seed: a picture of UNIT logo, glowing red.
Her grin spread like wildfire. "Ohhh. You bad, bad influence, now my tardis baby show me thy way."
She bounced to her feet, trenchcoat dripping. "Right then! Next quest: rob UNIT blind!"
[Warning: High-risk target. Probability of success: 2%.]
She giggled. "Two percent? That's plenty! Murphy's Law is on my side. When things go wrong, I win XP. When things go right, I get parts. Win-win."
The System scrolled dryly:
[That is not how probability functions.]
"Shhh. Gamer logic only. No math allowed."
And with that, she dashed off into the London night, cackling, ready to commit cosmic burglary.
The rain hammered harder. She pulled her trenchcoat tight, eyes glowing in the night.
She twirled on the bridge railing, nearly slipping off before righting herself with an elastic snap of her spine. "Alright, toy store here we come."
Her mind fizzed with images: the Omni-tool flaring into existence on her wrist, a better weapon than the Doctor's sonic screwdriver, a scalpel, a shield, all at once. And if UNIT had even a sliver of Dalekanium or Cyber-tech in storage…
Her grin turned sharp. "Sorry, Brigadier-wannabes. Tonight, I'm your poltergeist."
She needed to test her stealth. That meant crowds, locked doors, slipping unnoticed.
She ducked into a pub, dripping on the floorboards. Nobody paid her much mind — a soaked goth girl in a trenchcoat wasn't strange for London. She slid into a booth, scribbling more designs.
The Omni-tool blueprint sprawled with notes:
Plasma torch function (for welding and cutting enemies).
Hard-light blade projector(probably not going to get the tech needed for that).
Data interface (must be able to hack Dalek-Cyberman circuits).
Emergency med-mode for biological repair. (If my life is going to be like the doctor's, then this is a must.)
She chewed her pen, humming. "Yeah, yeah, this is workable. Just need…" Her grin widened. "...a UNIT base raid. Perfect."
The System dinged again.
[Quest Update: Gather Required Materials. Optional Bonus: Infiltrate without detection for extra XP.]
"Oh-ho-ho-ho." She clapped her hands, startling a bartender. "Stealth run, it is!"
She ordered a cider, downed it in one gulp, and strolled back into the storm.
The first lesson of thievery, the Engineer decided, was that stealth wasn't about silence. It was about confidence. If you looked like you belonged, no one questioned you.
…Unless you were dripping wet, wearing a gothic trench coat with giant Omega symbols stitched across the back, and humming loudly as you scaled the security fence of a UNIT research facility at 2 A.M.
"Confidence," she muttered to herself, dangling upside down as she fiddled with the lock on the top wire. "I ooze it. Drip it. Drown in it. If confidence were soup, I'd be… consommé."
[Skill Gained: Stealth [Rank 2].]
[Skill Gained: Improvisation [Rank 3].]
"Oh-ho! System, you spoil me." She landed with a neat flip and immediately faceplanted into the mud. "Ow."
-2 HP.
She pushed herself up, grinning through muck. "Tactical pratfall. For flavor."
The river fog rolled low over the embankment, shrouding the streets in muted yellow from the lamps. Somewhere beneath those cobblestones and bureaucratic facades, UNIT kept their secrets. Weapons. Files. Alien salvage. The kind of treasure trove she could turn into her real toolkit.
The Engineer walked silently through the mist, trench coat swaying, boots clicking once, then vanishing into stillness. Her manic grin from last night had burned down into something steadier: focused, sharp, and cold.
Omega pulsed against her chest. Not in words, not in sentences — but in sensations. A quick staccato burst, like a heartbeat overlaid with the image of a locked door. Then a shimmer of green static: warning.
"I know," she whispered, lips barely moving. "They're paranoid. They should be. This is UNIT."
[Quest: Infiltrate UNIT Blacksite]
[Primary Objective: Acquire alien tech components (min. x5)]
[Bonus Objective: Data theft — alien science archives]
[Bonus XP multiplier: +60% for Stealth completions.]
She inhaled. Slow. Steady. This wasn't a joke anymore.
The perimeter fence buzzed faintly with an energy deterrent field. Old tech. Old to her, anyway.
She would've grinned, made a joke about parkour, and tried vaulting it for fun. Tonight, she moved like a liquid shadow. Her fingers brushed the Omni-tool prototype strapped to her wrist — crude, duct-taped, incomplete, but alive, barely. Tiny chronon filaments hummed inside the gauntlet, feeding off her own temporal resonance.
She flicked it open. The screen was an iPhone she stole as the interface shivered into being — jagged, half-finished, but enough.
Her lips curled in a faint smirk. "Now we're playing."
She knelt in the shadows, tracing her finger along the metal. The System fed her fragments of schematics.
[Skill Unlocked: Circuit Intuition Lv.1]
[Passive Effect: You 'see' the flow of energy in technology.]
To her eyes, the fence came alive — wires glowing like veins, energy currents pulsing like blood. She slid a hairpin from her pocket, twisted it once, and jammed it into the relay. Sparks flickered. The field sputtered.
She stepped through as silently as falling dust.
Inside, the compound was a maze of floodlights, cameras, and bored guards
[Skill Progression: Stealth Lv.2 → Lv.3]
The corridors were sterile, humming with recycled air. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, sterile white against cold steel. Somewhere above, soldiers' boots echoed.
She moved in silence, her outline twitching like a figure pulled from broken film. To human eyes, it was as if she skipped the spaces between steps.
Omega pulsed again. This time, the sensation was hunger, mixed with the sharp taste of static and the faint ringing of glass under pressure.
"Yeah," she murmured. "I feel it too. Something alien. Close."
Her gauntlet pulsed in answer, feeding her a ripple of data. She tilted her head, following the trail like a predator.
Behind a sealed bulkhead, she found it: a vault. Rows of shelves stacked with containment cylinders. Inside, glowing fragments of things that had fallen through time.
She pressed her palm to the door. The Omni-tool hummed.
The Engineer stepped through.
Her eyes widened. Alien alloys, processors, weapons stripped of power cores. A xenotech candy store.
The Archive stretched like a cathedral of stolen futures. Alien weapons hummed in stasis. Shards of Dalekanium sat inert in locked glass. A Sontaran helmet glared from its mount.
She inhaled sharply. "Beautiful."
Her eyes locked on the processors, stacked neatly in containment crates. Sub-Quantum cores, humming faintly with potential. Plasma containment lattices. Everything she needed to birth the Omni-tool.
She gathered what she needed: an alien alloy shard, a plasma containment core from a melted Dalek gun, and processor fragments from a salvaged Cyberman head. All slid into her coat like puzzle pieces waiting to be assembled.
"Lucky this outfit's pockets are bigger inside."
But she didn't take too much. She wasn't greedy. Not yet.
She moved swiftly, prying open crates, filling her pockets with components. The omni-tool started, scanning shelves, directing her to overlooked caches of parts. Omega pulsed approval each time, its psychic thread vibrating like pride.
For a moment, she felt a rare calm. This was what she was born for — not the chaos, not the laughter, but the precision. The art of creation.
"Perfect," she breathed.
Halfway back through the hallways, she heard it: boots. Several pairs. UNIT patrol.
Her breath stilled. Her body folded into the shadows, pressing against cold steel.
[Skill Progression: Stealth Lv.3 → Lv.4]
The guards passed within feet of her. She could smell the coffee on their breath, the sweat in their uniforms. Their voices were low, tired.
"…command said keep an eye out. Something glitchy on the sensors."
"…probably just rats. Or another bloody Torchwood screw-up."
They laughed quietly and moved on.
She waited three beats longer. Then slipped away.
Only when she was safe in the stairwell did she let herself breathe again. Her pulse was fire in her veins, but her grin — small, tight, satisfied — returned.
Her final stop: the facility's data hub. A sealed room of humming servers, where UNIT hoarded their deepest alien files.
Omega pulsed urgently now. Knowledge. Necessary. Risk.
She pressed her palm against the main console. Information being downloaded through her omni-tool: Dalek weapon blueprints, Cyber conversion blueprints, things UNIT had no right to even touch.
Her body shuddered as she absorbed it, the System parsing the torrent like a sieve.
[Skill Gained: Fabrication Theory Lv.1 → Lv.2 → Lv.3]
[Skill Gained: Weaponized Interface Lv.1]
She staggered back, panting, but smiling. "This… this is enough."
Omega pulsed. Agreement. Completion. Exit.
Leaving was harder. The longer she lingered, the more the building felt hostile — like reality itself wanted her gone. Cameras flickered strangely. Doors resisted her touch. Guards lingered too close.
But she moved carefully, slipping through cracks in their perception, guided by Omega's psychic nudges.
By the time she scaled the fence and melted back into the London dawn, her coat heavy with alien fragments and stolen data, she was exhausted.
But alive. Victorious.
The System chimed softly.
[Mission Complete: Infiltration]
[XP Gained: +6,500]
[Level Up x3]
[Skill Progression Unlocked: Omni-Tool Construction Lv.3]
She collapsed into an alley, breathing hard, eyes bright with triumph. Slowly, she drew the Omega seed from her pocket. It pulsed warmly in her palm. Not words. Not sentences. But pride. Encouragement. Companionship.
Her lips curved faintly. "Yeah. We did it."
And for the first time since she'd been reborn into this universe, the Engineer didn't laugh or scream or grin too wide.
She simply sat in the dawn light, holding the tiny living seed of her future fortress, and whispered:
"…let's build."