Banging on

[multaekappae]

 The transit was disappointingly easy, in the opinion of at least one gray pegasus. Once the civilians had be roused they were fairly docile, which certainly meant that this Time Turner fellow did not have the Doctor' mettle. Either that or he was too concerned about annoying his fellow refugee, Miss Carrot Top.

The streets were disturbingly clear, which in the Inspector's recollection meant they had already lost more time than he liked, the six Bearers of the Elements of Harmony would soon be captured, and the endgame couldn't be more than an hour off. That was good news for the city, but bad news for a group of temporally displaced travelers who wanted to avoid public scrutiny in the wake of an invasion of unlikely and 'alien' seeming invaders.

Sharp Wit's apartment, on the third floor, looked awfully small from the outside. Then again, it was fairly small once one got inside as well. 'Heh, if I ever "retire" I'll have to get the Doctor to redecorate for me.' He snorted, ignoring the confused expressions this received.

Perhaps it was a side effect of Agent Noise's magic, but everypony seemed reluctant to speak, even as they filed into the small apartment – though one didn't need Primeval's scanning gizmos to see that they were all more relaxed off the streets.

It was one of Sharp's quirks that while he loathed the inane prattling of lesser minds, he also hated the sort of silence that came from ponies not speaking. "*Ahem*, well then." He cleared his throat, receiving far less satisfaction from startling the others than he might have under other circumstances. "I suppose you're all wondering why I have called everyone here today..." he grinned, "My apologies, I've always wanted to say that. But in all seriousness, we need to figure out what we are going to do."

He paced, ignoring the small voice in his head –'Not Meee' shush, you– ... that pointed out how much like the Doctor the affectation was.
"Let us put together the facts, as we currently understand them: The city is under siege by an army of emotion-devouring shape-shifters." He stomped, "The city's defenses are both occupied and outmatched, though I have... reasons... to believe that issue will work itself out. As well we have Riptide, a natural predator of the Changelings, as well as my own not-insignificant expertise." Modesty was for those arrogant enough to be humble.

"More of concern, Torchwhoof has managed to destroy not only itself, but the stability of space-time in the vicinity of it's failed time-travel device." Despite the Inspector's penetrating gaze, Turner gave not one hint of recognition beyond the same stupefied expression Miss Carrot shared.

"We have one rather weak bit of information left behind by the Doctor, which seems mostly to say that we are in an unspecified danger and the tool with which to solve the problem doesn't yet exist." Sharp's expression turned especially dour, "In addition, we can completely rule out the intervention of any other instance of the Doctor or other time travelers conveniently showing up and saving us, because the ... 'time crash' has managed to break the temporal continuity of our immediate area." He grinned, because the solution to this problem had been blindingly obvious.

"Of course, all that means is that–"

A loud banging on the door of Sharp Wit's apartment interrupted the pegasus's speech.