So I've been watching the classic Doctor Who so far, I love the 3rd and 4th Doctor working with UNIT, especially Brigadier, he's probably my favorite character in classic.
So expect her to go back in time somehow to work with him.
And she will go to time lord Academy energy
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The Engineer shut the door behind her, dumped the heavy coat onto the sofa, and spilled a rain of alien shards, processors, and glowing cores onto the floor. They clattered against each other like marbles of gods.
She crouched over them with wide eyes. "...you little beauties. Mama's home."
The seriousness from the heist was gone. She could feel the tension unraveling in her shoulders. Now the mania leaked through, bubbling over, jittering down her fingers.
"Alright, alright, where do we start—oh, System, don't just sit there looking smug. Pop the window!"
The System obeyed. A glowing text prompt unfurled across her vision.
[Omni-Tool Mk. I Blueprint Unlocked]
[Requirements: Processor Core, Alloy Frame, Power Conduit, Neural Sync Interface]
[Skill Requirements: Engineering Lv.10, Code Programming Lv.10, Design Theory Lv.10]
[Warning: Skills insufficient for stable construction.]
She rubbed her hands together. "Engineering, coding, design. Got it. Time to grind."
Her "workshop" was a crime scene of wires, alien shards, soldering irons, and at least three half-dismantled toasters. She started simple: rewiring a Cyberman processor into a laptop.
She picked up the Cyberman processor. Its broken eye stared up at her like it resented her very existence. She grinned back.
"Don't look at me like that. You lost, I won. Recycling time, baby."
With a screwdriver, a soldering iron she absolutely stole from a garage, and far too much confidence, she started dismantling it. Sparks flew. A faint wisp of smoke filled the room.
"Wish I had a sonic screwdriver that would make this so much faster."
The laptop screamed, sparked, and nearly bit her hand.
[Skill Progression: Engineering Lv. 2 → Lv. 3]
[Skill Progression: Code Programming Lv. 1 → Lv. 2]
"YES!" She fist-pumped, hair sticking up in electric static. "We're cooking now!"
Then the laptop hissed and exploded.
She yelled, "IT'S FINE, I'M A SCIENTIST! TECHNICALLY!"
Two hours later, she was juggling three projects at once:
Coding a UI for the Omni-Tool using alien processor fragments.
Designing modular holographic interfaces on scrap paper.
Building a drone made out of a dismantled fan.
The drone spun wildly, clipped her in the ear, and flew out the window.
[Skill Progression: Design Lv. 3 → Lv. 4]
She rubbed her ear, cackling. "See, Omega? This is art."
Omega pulsed faintly in her mind: Disapproval. Hunger. Energy.
She squinted at the seed, now sitting in a teacup like a pet rock with delusions of grandeur. "Don't diss me. You're just mad you can't eat my chaos."
Omega pulsed again, sharper. Artron energy. Temporal resonance. Feed me.
The Engineer made a face. "You're like a Tamagotchi that eats time. Do you have any idea how unhelpful that is?"
Still, she held her palm over the seed, let a trickle of her own Time Lord energy bleed into it. Omega drank greedily, pulsing bright purple-gold for a moment before dimming back to its calm state.
Her chest ached. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get used to it. I need to juice this shell too."
By the third day, her flat looked like a cyberpunk goblin's nest. Plates of forgotten takeout, wires crisscrossing the floor, alien alloys hammered into rough shapes, notes scrawled on papers in marker pen ("make plasma coupler???" "ask system if time knives exist").
Her hands were burned, bandaged, stained in oil and ink.
But her eyes? They shone.
[Skill Progression: Engineering Lv. 3 → Lv. 6]
[Skill Progression: Code Programming Lv. 2 → Lv. 5]
[Skill Progression: Design Lv. 4 → Lv. 7]
Every small success made her scream-laugh like a mad inventor. Every failure was followed by a louder scream-laugh.
At one point, she burned a hole clean through her desk. Instead of panicking, she crouched over it like a gremlin child discovering fire.
"…floor portal."
By the end of the week, she had something.
Not good, exactly. Not stable. Definitely not safe.
But something.
A clunky, half-formed bracer of alloy and glowing circuitry, strapped to her forearm. Wires dangled. Lights flickered. The holographic interface blinked in and out like a bad Wi-Fi signal.
She tapped it. The hologram stuttered to life — jagged, bright, humming.
[Skill Progression: Design Lv. 7 → Lv. 8]
[Skill Progression: Engineering Lv. 6 → Lv. 7]
Her grin split ear-to-ear. "OH, IT'S ALIVE."
Then the bracer screamed at her in binary and electrocuted her elbow.
She collapsed backward, twitching so hard her stomach hurt. "OH, IT'S REALLY ALIVE."
Omega pulsed from its teacup: Disappointment. Irritation. Amusement.
She pointed at it with a shaking finger. "Don't laugh at me. You're basically a plant."
Days blurred. Projects piled. Mistakes exploded.
But she learned. Faster than any human ever could. Faster than she thought even a Time Lord should. The quadruple helix of her new body thrummed with impossible efficiency, parsing alien code like second nature, refining designs instinctively, building with inhuman precision.
Her System chimed constantly:
[Skill Progression: Engineering Lv. 7 → Lv. 8 → Lv. 9]
[Skill Progression: Code Programming Lv. 5 → Lv. 6 → Lv. 8]
[Skill Progression: Design Lv. 8 → Lv. 9]
Each ding of progress made her dance barefoot on her floor, hair wild, muttering nonsense like, "WHY IS IT EXPLODING?"
Her neighbors filed so many complaints.
Finally, it happened.
[Skill Progression: Engineering Lv. 9 → Lv. 10]
[Skill Progression: Code Programming Lv. 8 → Lv. 9 → Lv. 10]
[Skill Progression: Design Lv. 9 → Lv. 10]
[Skill Threshold Reached: Omni-Tool Mk. I Eligible for Construction]
She froze mid-scribble, marker falling from her hand. Then her grin returned, manic and unstoppable.
"…we're doing it."
Omega pulsed from the teacup, sharp, hungry, expectant. Now. Build.
She slammed her palms down on the table. "YES, MOTHER."
"Jeez, you're so needed."
She worked for twenty straight hours.
No sleep. No food.
Just chaos.
The flat became a forge of madness: sparks flying, code pouring across glowing screens, blueprints scrawled over the walls, circuits soldered, alloys fused, alien fragments hammered into place.
[Component Integrated: Plasma Core Stabilizer]
[Component Integrated: Cyber Processor Fragment]
[Component Integrated: Dalek Alloy Shard]
[Component Integrated: Human Laptop Keyboard]
(The last one was purely for comedy value. She insisted it was "aesthetic.")
Finally, with a final spark and a scream of triumph, the Omni-Tool bracer locked onto her arm.
The holographic interface flickered to life, stable, smooth, clean. Glowing orange-gold like a second sun.
She stared at it. Breathless. Teary.
"…holy… Time Vortex. I did it."
The System chimed.
[Major Achievement: Omni-Tool Mk. I Constructed]
[XP Gained: +12,000]
[Level Up x5]
[Skill Fusion: Engineering + Design + Programming = Omni-Forge MK.3]
She wheezed out a laugh. "Oh my god. I just unlocked New Game Plus crafting."
Omega pulsed violently from its teacup: Hunger. Feed. Energy.
She sighed. "Fine. You helped. You get the first charge."
She tapped the Omni-Tool, channeled a pulse of temporal energy into it, and let it flow into the Omega seed. The seed pulsed, glowing brighter than ever before, a warm psychic flood of approval. Pride. Affection.
The Engineer slumped against the wall, smiling like a delirious child who just built the world's deadliest Lego tower.
London still had that post-storm scent: ozone and wet stone. She crouched on a concrete ledge above the Thames, coat pulled up, Omni-tool braced against her forearm. It felt like wearing the beginning of a war on her skin — warm, pulsing, alive. Against the dull grey of morning, the bracer's interface bloomed in tiny orange glyphs and a ribbon of holographic text unfurled into the space in front of her. System messages scrolled quietly in her skull as if the Universe were whispering notes to a composer.
[You have Omni-Tool Mk. 3.]
[Functions: Holo-UI / Nanoforge / Minor Chrono-Loop Overclock / Diagnostics.]
[Resource: Chronon fragments x7.]
[Recommended: Field testing in a controlled environment.]
She smirked at the "recommended." Recommendations were for mortals. She tapped the bracer and the holo bloomed into a compact, shimmering toolkit: micro-forge, diagnostic scanner, three tiny drones. The Omni-tool responded to thought and hand, both — a marriage of her will and tech.
She flexed her fingers and sent one of the drones skittering out like a moth. It cast downwards, scanning for signatures. Her brow tightened as it shot a clean read across the water: low hums, a lattice pattern in the riverbed, a ripple of code like something burrowed beneath the surface. Not natural.
Her grin got sharp. "Okay. Test one: find a scary problem. Found. Test two: punch scary problem in its ugly face."
It was nearly noon when the alert hit.
UNIT dispatch, terse and clipped: anomalous signal on the disused Northbank maintenance tunnels; electromagnetic spike; local CCTV feed corrupted; possible salvage theft. Secure the perimeter; wait for experts.
She could have sat back and watched. She did not.
She jogged. The Omni-Tool tracked her biologically, snapped a tiny holo-map into the air for three seconds a little ghost of her route overlaying the city and then folded back into silent readiness.
The north river walkway smelled like iron and old sea-spray. Chains clinked. Pigeons went about grieving quietly for their dignity. UNIT men and women in plain suits were already there, flattening civilians out of the way with practiced, nonchalant violence — the kind of efficiency born of too many near-impossible days.
"Stand down!" barked a woman in a tactical jacket, voice layered with authority. She had a hard jaw and softer eyes. Close behind her were two techs with tac-pads and a small, boxy electromagnetic scanner blinking like a nervous eyelid.
The Engineer kept her chest open, shoulders relaxed. She looked like a woman who'd just stepped in from somewhere else entirely. Which she had.
"Excuse me," she said, bright and too loud. "Hello! So, UNIT, hi. Friends? I assume friends." She smiled in that way that made people decide whether to trust her in three seconds and then lean into instinct. Most people were wrong about her.
Unit tech One barely hid his scowl. "You're not cleared. Please stand back, ma'am."
She clicked the Omni-Tool. A soft, synchronized chime three notes, like the hinge of a cosmic door. The bracer's sensors reached out in a whisper: radar, EM, low-signal radio, nanodetection, thermal gradient. The Omni-Tool spoke in data. The System layered the interpretation into her head.
[Anomaly signature: Cybernetic resonance / Temporal bleed]
[Probability of recruited Cybernetic salvage: HIGH]
[Temporal distortion: microlooper — small, repeated time eddies forming in location]
UNIT's tech blinked at his readout and went pale. "That's not … that's—"
She held up a hand, calm like she'd just ordered a coffee. "They're koalas on the internet. Cute, but they want you dead. Let me peek?" She didn't wait for permission. The bracer extended a filament of light and touched the air; the Omni-Tool's probe slipped through the tunnel mouth like a fishing line into black water.
What it saw was not a Dalek funeral nor a tidy trash heap of Cyberman parts. It was a living plan: components drifting in static fields, converted into a lattice that hummed to the rhythm of a machine learning itself. Somewhere down in the maintenance caverns someone had been feeding salvage into a pattern. The pattern was growing teeth.
The Omni-Tool translated the pattern into simple words that slammed into her skull like a hammer.
[Object: Cyber-conversion hub]
[Purpose: Autonomous assembly of conversion nodes]
[Trigger: when conversion nodes hit threshold → signal to central relay → mass conversion sweep]
She unclipped, breath shallow.
"Unit—" the field commander said. "How do you know—"
She turned to them with sudden, lethal clarity. "Because it's Cyber. And because I can smell their time displacement." She hated that it sounded like boastful nonsense. It was the truth: the Omni-Tool saw resonance. Her lungs filled not with fear but a low, bright excitement. This was the thing she had built for.
The commander squared her shoulders. "We can isolate and neutralize the hub. But we'll need a controlled insertion — disable the relay, reverse the assembly sequence, and get out before the system self-heals."
This was not, she thought, a plan bad enough. This was a plan ripe for improvements.
She dug into the tech box she'd dragged, producing three things like a conjurer: a makeshift EMP pulse node (home-built and dangerously pretty), a micro-holo jammer, and a filament she'd made from Dalek alloy and her own nanowire. The Omni-Tool blessed each item with a diagnostic chirp.
She laid her plan out with a speed that made UNIT's captain blink.
"You go in through the maintenance artery here," she said, tapping a spot with a fingertip that left a nano-mark, "use the EMP to drop the assembly threshold by 17–19% — long enough for me to push a microcode in via the filament. That filament will ride their lattice like a parasite and flip the assembly logic to a cleanup directive. We shut down their production, then collapse the relay." She smiled like the end of a bad joke. "Very Simple."
The commander stared at her as if she'd suggested knitting nuclear warheads. Then she counted the risk in her eyes and shrugged. "We have men on standby. We trust the tech team. You're with us."
Trust was a small thing in UNIT; willingness to stand in front of impossible odds and not flinch was larger. They were willing.
They moved into the tunnel like ghosts. The maintenance throat groaned with old machinery. Pipes were wet with condensation, and at irregular intervals the air shimmered: little loops of time where a drip ran upward, where a loose bolt fell twice in two different places. Time was sick here.
Her Omni-Tool hummed tight against her wrist. It told her what the bracer could not speak how the lattice would receive the filament, the frequency to soothe the temporal eddy. Omega pulsed from the seed inside her jacket: careful. hungry. feed after.
They split into teams. UNIT's two techs handled the EMP rig; two soldiers would secure exits. The Engineer slipped on black gloves and forwarded a fragment of code into the filament's tiny core. Her hands didn't shake. She felt, for the first time in a long time, like she belonged to something that mattered.
"Three… two… one."
EMP fins hissed. The cavern screamed in the guttural language of cut power. Lattice growth stuttered; components aborted the weld. For a breath the world perched on the edge of a coin, glittering.
She pushed the filament forward like a surgeon. It slipped into the lattice, and then the thing happened: the Cyber-conversion pattern tried to heal itself. It flailed, and then the filament injected the parasite-code. The lattice's hum went wrong. The Omni-Tool sent her a flood of data: trust this, push a lane here, nudge their timing there. She obeyed.
A scream echoed from deeper in the cavern an analog sound, human and raw — then resolved into something mechanical that had remembered how to panic. The lattice convulsed, converting incomplete. A half-formed conversion node seized and collapsed inward, vaporizing in a blue hiss of static.
They didn't have long. The relay a ring of calibrators began to pulse, calling to the nodes. She felt it like a headache that wanted to be a mission.
"Push now!" she shouted.
They all moved with synchronized violence. The filament sang; the Omni-Tool threaded microcommands through the Cybernetics' own language. UNIT's techs broke into the relay's heartbeat, forced the ring to reverse polarity, and the assembly sequence folded like a bad memory. One by one the conversion nodes shut down and unravelled.
The cavern was suddenly very quiet, filled only with exhaust and the sound of heavy breathing. The temporary time eddies smoothed. UNIT guys unclipped safety harnesses and looked at her with the kind of awe reserved for things that did not die easily.
"Holy—" one whispered.
She wiped her forehead with the back of her glove and smiled that dangerous, quick smile. "Not bad for a day's work, right?"
A soldier approached with an interrogative tilt. He held up a recorder like an offering. "We need ID. Who are you? Where are you from? You just saved us from an outbreak."
She felt the System's neat line feed her exact outputs: XP gained, critical success, skill progression. It tasted of iron and chips.
She blinked. She had never liked the name he would say next, the one carved into the hollow of her history. The soul-word the System had given had always been too intimate.
She could say anything. She could lie that she was some freelance scavenger; she could admit the truth nebular, eldritch, time lords.
She chose indifferent honesty. "I'm the Engineer," she said. The single syllable dropped into the tunnel like a stone in a sanctified pond.
The soldier's face changed in a way that frightened her: the shift was small but seismic. Eyes dilated, mouth slackened, as if the air had been replaced with colder air. Around them other UNIT members, trained and weathered, stepped back an inch, and in that inch the world looked different.
They didn't just recognize the name. They remembered, viscerally, the stories adults didn't speak aloud. The Engineer the word carried the weight of endings. Death as a tool. Mercy as a scalpel. Time as judgment.
Somewhere behind her, the Omni-Tool hummed a content Omega pulsed in her mind, a wave of warmth and… hunger. She felt suddenly very small in a very large way.
One of UNIT's techs swallowed and said, as if naming a god or a plague, "You're—are you… engineer..The Engineer?"
She laughed, not joyously this time. "Yup that me." She rested her palm on the filament still glowing in her hand. Tiny motes of static drifted off and dissolved like dust.
They looked at her like they'd seen a god of death
She made weird face at that."Wtf did my future self did to get that reaction."
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