Manager's Office, New Regency Theatre.
"Ok, the phonograph cylinder is in place, Professor."
"Then let's find out what Professor Dark was so intent on telling us."
A crackling hum emanated from the device as Henry activated the device. A fast passed, excitable voice emerged from the static.
"Hello there! I take it I have the privilege of speaking with the inestimable George Litefoot and Henry Jago?"
"Indeed you do, Doctor! It is I, Hen.."
"He can't actually here you. It is only a recording. He voice seems different though, younger. Perhaps he's acquired another face?"
"Good deduction, Litefoot, I have indeed. Several since we last spoke. I had a few unfortunate accidents, but I'm still around. At least I didn't trip over a brick, at least."
"Doctor, you can hear us!"
"No I can't. This phonograph is primitive technology, the best I could knock together at short notice."
"But, you're answering our questions! How can we have this confounded communication?"
"Quite frankly, Henry, because I'm a little bit brilliant. My present is your past, and your future is my present. I don't possess prodigious powers of predestination, from my perspective, you've already asked your questions. I have a transcript. George was kind enough to include this conversation in his collected memoirs."
"So you're saying that you knew what we'd say, because Litefoot will write it down someday?"
"Correct, 10 points to Griffindor!"
"Nope, still not getting it."
"Nevermind, Jago. Why the theatricality Doctor, why not just visit in your time machine?"
"Well, the trouble is, your time and space is awash with temporal energy. Something very powerful is stirring in the Vortex, and even the TARDIS can't break through it. The best I could manage was to land in 1835 and plan this."
"Oh dear! How do we fight it?"
"You don't. At least, not yet. There is a more pressing concern for you two gents. We can solve that disturbance later."
"Corks! So what's so urgent? Is it this gruesome gargoyle on the prowl?"
"Correct. Molto Bene! It's called a Weeping Angel. One touch and it zaps you into the past, then feeds on your potential timeline. Meanwhile you live to death in the past."
"That explains the corpses Inspector Quick discovered. I think I owe the man an apology, he was far closer to the truth than I thought."
"But Doctor, this infernal figure is made of rock. How can it move?"
"It's called a quantum lock. The perfect defence mechanism. When gazed upon by a living creature, it turns to stone. But when you turn away, when you close your eyes, if you even blink, then BOOM! It's free to move, and it's fast, faster than you could believe!"
"But surely stone is not impervious. A team of labourers with chisels should make quick work of the blighter."
"No. The rocky outer shell is.. Well, it'd complicated. You could grind it into dust, but the angel would reform as soon as you blinked. The stone is like a footprint in snow, or a hole in the wall. It exists only as the absence of something else. Like how darkness is the absence of light."
"Sounds like a rum creature, and no mistake! How are we supposed to stop such a creature?"
"I have a plan. But there's not much time left in the recording. Head to the old Turner's Textiles warehouse tonight. The angel will be there at midnight to claim a victim, according to historical records. Be sure to..
"
the crackling stopped. The phonograph had ended.
"Is that it?!"
"I'm afraid so, Henry. Looks like we're on our own this time."
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