Chapter Nine: Suzanne

            Lauren awoke with every part of her body aching. It was hard enough to sit up and open her eyes. She was still in the cavernous prison – no surprise there. Across from her was Fawn, fearfully cowering in the corner.

            Concerned for her Barasinghan cellmate, she asked, “How long was I…?”

            She stopped talking once she noticed a difference in her voice.

            It sounded more British than ever before, slightly older and a little deeper.

            “O.K. That’s weird.” Even her teeth felt different as she spoke. “Fawn, what happened? How long have I been out?”

            The young Barasinghan trembled just looking at her. “Two days.”

            “Dear lord,” Lauren gasped.

            She fought to stand up, clinging against the rock wall for support.

            Her legs, for as much feeling as she still had in them, seemed longer.

            The sports bra and yoga pants were snug on her frame, as if neither were her right size anymore.

            “Everything feels…different,” she reflected.

            “You look different,” Fawn told her.

            That quickly became obvious to Lauren once her hair dangled in her field of view; it was brown, not blond. This prompted her to seek out her reflection. The best place she could find it was in Fawn’s bucket, which was full enough to offer the closest thing to a mirror. Through the ripples, a whole new woman was looking back at her: a brunette with hazel eyes.

            From the great distance between her face and the bucket, it was evident that she had regenerated into a tall woman. Her new body was as athletic as her previous one, if not more superior; she had to make some slight alterations to her yoga pants, which were suited for her much shorter predecessor.

            It was clear now why Fawn reacted the way she did; only very few living souls like her had the privilege of witnessing a full Time Lord regeneration up close.

            “It’s alright, sweetheart,” she told her. “I’m still the same woman.”

            Fawn remained uncertain, recoiling the closer Lauren got to her. “I…I’ve never seen anything like it. D-Do I still even call you ‘Lauren’?”

            Aznavorian once more glimpsed at her new face.

            New face, new name.

            That was the one rule she and Neas always followed after regeneration. Not like the Doctor, who kept the same name with every new face, unless he was incognito under the alias of “John Smith.”

            “Suzanne,” the Tinkerer settled. “Call me ‘Suzanne’.”

            “You actually name your regenerations?”

            Fawn and Suzanne jolted from the Scottish-accented voice that spoke out arbitrarily outside their cell. There appeared a woman with pronounced cheekbones, intense light blue eyes, and black hair held in place in an up-do. She wore a Victorian-styled garb complete with a high-waisted skirt that cut to ankle length and a croak lengthen jacket that puffed up at the shoulders.

            “My, my, Tinkerer,” she mockingly addressed Suzanne. “You’ve certainly sprouted in this new body of yours. Better duck whenever you go through doorways now. We wouldn’t want that pretty head cut off now, would we?”

            “Who are you?” Suzanne asked.

            “Well, that’s the question of the hour, isn’t it? Who am I?” the Scotswoman said. “Who I am is the one who stepped up to be a parent to a sad little boy whose mommy and daddy were too ashamed of what he was born as. I was more of a father to him than you ever were, Aznavorian.”

            Suzanne grew cold, recognizing this woman for who she really was. “Master?”

            “It’s ‘Missy’ now, short for ‘Mistress’,” she said. “And you’re welcome, by the way, for raising your son.”

            “You stole Christopher from Kristin and me,” Suzanne growled.

            “That’s not the way she sees it now, darling,” Missy argued. “Speaking off-topic, how does it feel having that Regen-8 formula coursing through your veins?”

            Suzanne looked to her left forearm, a sharp tingling sensation overcoming it.

            Her veins faintly glowed beneath the skin, a telltale symptom of Regen-8.

            “I’d suggest you enjoy the new body while you can,” Missy advised. “‘Cause as of right now you are on borrowed time, dearie.”

            She ended the exchange at that, leaving Suzanne mortified.

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            Themyscira was a better place than any for LeMarier and Missy to establish as an “evil hangout” (as Missy preferred to call it). A magical island on an Earth they had yet to imagine was like elsewhere, created by Zeus to serve as a home for a race of powerful women called “Amazons” and concealed from the outside world by an invisible force field.

            Each and every one was brainwashed to do as the Time Ladies commanded while they conducted their research and experimentation of the Regen-8 formula. LeMarier set up her laboratory within a sacred tower, an area once reserved only for displaying a magically-empowered Amazonian sword called “God Killer.”

            It still resided there beside LeMarier’s T.A.R.D.I.S. – a towering stone structure with a noticeable fracture in one edge; it was not unlike that of her twin sibling’s but more dimensionally unbalanced on its exterior.

            The arrival of Missy came at a time when LeMarier was focused on her work, with her companion, Draco Malfoy, keeping her company.

            “A rather problematic development has occurred in your father’s regeneration from the formula,” Missy updated her. “Apparently, it’s gifted her with a body that’s as tall and fit as the Amazons we’re surrounded by here.”

            “We got nothing to worry about,” LeMarier stated. “If she tries to escape, the Regen-8 will kick her butt before the Amazons could lay a finger on her.” Frustration soon overtook her, slamming her fists down on the workbench and rattling a few beakers and test tubes. “Years of work, and I still haven’t perfected it!”

            “I have.”

            Missy’s negligible remark drew great annoyance from LeMarier, turning to her surrogate father (now mother) with fire in her cold blue eyes. “Since when?!” she asked against gnashed teeth.

            “Since a week ago,” Missy answered in that same passive voice while checking on her up-do in her compact mirror.

            “And you’ve just now decided to tell me?!”

            “Well, I was gonna keep it a surprise ‘til your next birthday.”

            Displeased and infuriated, LeMarier demanded, “Give me the recipe!”

            “Of course, dear. Lemme just…”

            Missy reached into a purse LeMarier never knew she had to retrieve the formula; but, with a quick sleight of hand, she yanked out a small syringe and jabbed the needle into the left side of LeMarier’s neck.

            The surprise injection caught her off guard, her legs instantly giving out.

            Catching on the scene, Draco disconcertedly watched, uncertain of whose side he should’ve been on: LeMarier’s or Missy’s.

            “What the…?” LeMarier huffed. “What did you pump me with?”

            “An amplified dosage of the Regen-8 formula,” Missy exposed. “Not like the concentrated dose that I gave your twin on my short field trip earlier. I still need him to stay as he is for the next phase of my plan. You, on the other hand, could use a makeover…into a more obedient regeneration.”

            LeMarier struggled to focus on what Missy was telling her.

            “P-Plan? What plan?!”

            “I’m sorry, my dear. Really, I am. But, since the Gladiator’s mini-me got involved, someone much bigger than either of us is calling the shots now.”

            A tingling sensation overcame LeMarier’s left arm.

            She held it in front of her face to see it glowing with regenerative energy.

            Soon, her whole body was overtaken by it, paralyzed as she underwent her metamorphosis into her next incarnation.

            Missy and Draco observed as her distinct features melted away.

            Her dark brown hair turned golden blonde, her slightly pale complexion gained a bit more color, her clear hazel eyes were replaced with a bluish hue, and her slender figure became more athletic; all that remained was her peach lips and tall stature, both of which were slightly more pronounced in the new form.

            She stood upright, her new face locked in a muted expression that managed to be far more intimidating and sophisticated than her predecessor.

            Missy approached her cautiously. “Chris? How do you feel, sweetheart?”

            The new incarnation of Christopher, barely acknowledging the existence of Missy or even Draco Malfoy, submissively replied in her new profound voice, “Ready to follow your command, Master.”