...the DG chuckled, a cruel, evil laugh. He returned to his throne, lounging there like some great corrupt king of old. The chuckle filled the air as the shape of the DG shifted, warped, melting away, slimming, growing taller, sleeker, darker, the face sprouting a beard, the hair turning black and tight to the scalp. The transformation complete, a far more sinister figure was ensconced in the seat of power.

"Oh my dear anoraks," chuckled the Master, "you have been naive!"

Within the Board domain, the Lost Ones had somehow united. A twitching, nervy mass of rejection and insecurity, they were nevertheless now all filled with a single purpose - to ensure that their world, remained theirs. The voices about them, the mass of posters still safely linked to the real world, had taken on tones of encouragement and enthusiasm, willing the Lost Ones on, like an army of fans in Wembley Stadium. And with the unity of purpose had come a new vision (a re-vision) of the world within the boards.

The Lost One's leader, the only one of them to have met the Doctor, had once, long ago (well, in part 2) described the virtual environment of the Boards as a conceptual representation of the abstract. He had been right. Now driven by a goal, the gloomy nothingness within the boards had changed. The conceptual representation now of the still purely abstract was a group of very angry villagers, torches ablazing and pitchforks atwitching, marching up the hillside to the castle of the evil Direktor General, perched like a stone obscenity on the very edge of the clifff.

Thunder and lightning powerful enough to have put the wind up Peter Cushing rattled and flashed around them as the angry mob made their way towards the gate...

Three geeky brains with but a single thought...

"But... how?!" gasped the Cult Boys.

The Master chuckled, dusting an imaginary speck of dirt from his velvet suit. "You foolish nerds with your insular visions of authority. Do you really believe that yours is the only Message Board in the universe?"

The trio looked blankly back at him.

"The Doctor has been brought into corporeal reality by the concentrated will of one single Board," continued the Master silkily. "But I have harnessed the powers of Planet Skaro, of Outpost Gallifrey... Even the Restoration Team Forum has had a hand in my existence."

"No wonder you're looking and sounding better than ever," enthused Rashface. He was silenced by a harsh whisper of "You sycophant!" from Beardy, who had long been the team's only real "Trial of a Timelord" fan.

"Thank you my friend," rejoined the Master. "But even the Boards and the Forums and the endless mental energy expended on the fictional world of the Doctor, all that is just a part of my creation." He patted the arms of the throne - the DG's throne. "I am situated at the heart of the BBC itself, the Director General no less, with all that vast resource of power and invention at my disposal." He chuckled cruelly, rising from the throne and making his graceful way over to the trio. "I have harnessed and abused all that power, to the stage where I am independent of my origins. I can function outside of the Forums and their kind. I am alive!"

He indicated the BBC Message Board machine with a dismissive wave. "Whereas on the other hand, when that machine is deactivated, the Doctor will cease to be. Indeed, he can only function outside of it for a limited period. In fact," he chuckled once again, and looked at Glasses, "if your Cybermen hadn't already finished him off, he would be expiring shortly anyway."

While we're on the subject of Cybermen and the Doctor and expiring...

The Doctor and Emily tore rapidly up yet another BBC corridor, desperately trying to escape their pursuers. Glasses Lucasfilm™-infected Cyber-race had followed them out of their Cyber Space domain, and with the steady march of relentless killers were following them. What the Cybermen lacked in speed they unfortunately more than made up for in lack of exhaustion and dramatic incidental music. The Doctor and Emily on the other hand were, well, knackered by now.

"I - can't - go - any - further," gasped Emily, nevertheless managing to do so even as she said it.

"It can't be far," replied the Doctor.

They came to another door--

--The huge door fell at last under the combined onslaught of fist and pitchfork, falling to the concrete flags with a mighty clap. The villagers charged into the great hall, the centre of power of their enemy, Baron von DG. Their leader turned to his fellows.

"Let's burn it down, destroy it utterly!"

--and flung themselves through, slamming it shut behind them. The Doctor and Emily leant on the door for a moment, trying to catch their respective breaths, and only after a good half a minute did they start to take in the rather changed nature of things.

"The Master!" gasped the Doctor.

"The Master?!" gasped Emily.

"But how?!" they gasped as one.

"I believe that one explanation scene is quite enough for one day, thank you Doctor. Suffice it to say," grinned the Master with a nod in his rival's direction, "that you are just in time for the end."

With that rather grim announcement the Master reached out for the cable powering the Message Board machine. One tug and the machine would be defunct, and with it the Doctor would simply cease to be. The Master grabbed the cable--

--and snatched his hand back instantly, his black glove visibly smoking. "That thing's burning!" he snarled.

The villagers, their blow for freedom struck, had regrouped back down the mountainside. The stood looking back as the evil castle burned, the flames shooting high into the clear night sky.

"Quick!"

Suddenly galvanised the Doctor leapt from the door. In a flash, he had looped his scarf once, twice, three times around the Master, pinioning his arms to his side. The Doctor turned to Emily, speaking in a machine-gun fast delivery.

"I'm going to drag him back into that machine's compression field with me," he explained, grabbing hold the ends of the scarf and pulling the protesting Master with him. "As soon as we're small enough I want you to put us both back inside, and then make it secure, trapping us both inside. Got it?" He pulled the Master closer to the machine.

"No!" snapped Emily, firmly enough to make both Timelords stop what they were doing and take notice. "You can't, Doctor."

"Look, Emily," began the Doctor, "I know it'll be very sad for you to lose me, but you'll get over it. Now then--"

"It's not that," she replied dismissively.

"Oh..." The Doctor looked rather crestfallen. "Well what is it then?"

"I can't let you fall into the machinery locked in perpetual struggle with your arch-enemy for all eternity."

"Why ever not?"

Beardy interrupted, realisation dawning on his face. "It's virtually the original ending of Time Inc. Different Doc, different opponent, but so obviously a rip-off... Emily's right, guys."

Emily nodded, glad of some support (at last): "Saward's lawyers would take us for every penny we've got. Sorry Doctor, but it ain't gonna happen."

The Doctor, not at all used to having his 'save-the-day' routine thwarted flung the Master back from the machine. "Alright, so what do you lot suggest? Hm?" he demanded.

The Master unravelled himself from the scarf, leapt to the throne and produced a short stubby, bulb-headed device. He trained it on the Cult Team and the Doctor.

"I suggest, lady and gentlemen, and you too Doctor," he grinned, "that you all prepare to die."

The Doctor snorted. "Your TCE? Pah! It's just a prop - none of this is real!"

"Real enough I assure you Doctor - what do you think happened to the real DG?"

"Ah." The Doctor considered this. "Good point."

The Master raised the device--

--but was blown back in his seat as the door to the room was blown open. The Cyberleader entered, his troops following. Instinctively the Master turned the TCE on the new arrivals. And with the computer-driven equivalent of instinct the Cyberleader did likewise, training his rifle on the Master. The Cyberleader fired first. The Master fell back, sliding down from his throne to lie on the floor in front of it. His figure began to dissolve.

"No!" he cried. "No!!! My world, my world, I'm melting, melting..." And he was gone.

Beardy turned to the Doctor. "What happened to him?"

It was Emily who answered. "He was fragmentised."

Redface laughed at the exploitation of material - although he didn't find it quite so funny when Emily told him to 'stop honking'.

The Cybermen turned on the Doctor and company.

"And now, Doctor," intoned the Cyberleader, "You too will be destroyed."

The Doctor beamed back at him. "Not today I think, thank you," he answered brightly.

The Cybermen raised their guns... but it was already clear that something was wrong. They were becoming transparent, the humans could make out the wall behind them... And within a few seconds the entire Cyber-race had faded away.

Everybody turned to face the Doctor, who had seamlessly switched into smug mode. Oddly enough, it suited him!

"I suppose you knew that would happen," said Emily archly.

"As a matter of fact, yes," replied the Doctor. "Artificial constructs, outside their environment... It was obviously only a matter of time." His face turned suddenly grave as he held up a hand. It was vaguely translucent, fading slowly away even as they watched. "And the same applies to me, too," he whispered.

"What can we do?!"

Suddenly the whole room shook. They were all knocked from their feet, struggled back up only to be knocked over by a second tremor. And a third. A high wind had blown up from nowhere, a howling, banshee wail accompanying it.

"What's that?!" Emily shouted to be heard above the chaos.

The Doctor indicated the now-empty throne. "With the death of the DG, or rather the fake DG, the BBC has nobody at its source. The whole corporation is going into freefall."

The three Cult Boys turned to each other, grinning inanely. "Keeper of Traken time," they enthused.

"Somebody will have to take over," continued the Doctor, talking to Emily. She shook her head. "Oh no, not me, no way," she replied. "Guys one of you will have to do it."

"We know," shouted back Glasses over the gale. "We're doing stone-paper-scissors to decide who. Cool Destiny moment, huh, Em?"

Emily smiled wanly. "Mm, great timing for nostalgia, boys."

Decision apparently reached (stone blunts scissors, when would he ever learn?) Beardy broke off from the group. "Looks like it's me," he said simply.

"Well," Emily shuffled her feet, never keen on goodbyes, and certainly not such bizarre ones. "You do have the beard for it."

Beardy indicated his mighty goatee proudly. "No way is this a twitty Luvic tuft, this is more of a Delgado bush!"

The ground shook again, even more violently. "Might I suggest," yelled the Doctor in Beardy's ear, "That now would be a good time!"

Beardy nodded, shook the Doctor's hand, kissed Emily, and ran to the throne. The instant he sat on it the howling wind died, the floor ceased its shaking, and the official BBC bearers picked the throne up, straining slightly under Beardy's girth, and took their new Keeper away.

Emily turned to Glasses and Rashface, a grin finding its way onto her face. "Well," she said, "I think a rather long day may finally be over!"

There was a gasp from Redface, who pointed at the Doctor. He had collapsed, and was now clearly starting to fade. In places, the floor beneath him was clearly visible. The three remaining Cult Team members rushed to him, kneeling down beside him.

"It's the end..." he gasped.

"But the moment hasn't been prepared for," insisted Emily in alarm.

"He's fading quick, not even time for a flashback sequence," murmured Redface.

Suddenly Glasses stood up. "The machine," he snapped. "We bung him back in the machine, he'll be safe there."

"Of course!" Emily and Redface picked the Doctor up, half-walked, half-carried him towards the Message Board machine. As they got nearer, they held him out in front of them, until he hit the compression field. Then they let go. The effect was dramatic. He began to shrink faster and faster, dwindling back to the minute size he had been when Beardy had first pulled him out, all those ridiculous cliffhangers ago. Glasses did the honours, reached down and picked him up. He crossed to the inspection hatch - now the Doctor's way back in to his virtual world.

The tiny Doctor turned back in Glasses palm, and they all heard his tiny voice one last time. "Thankyou," he cried. "From now on, I shall be Doctor Www.ho." Then he put on his best 'end of season smile to camera' and Glasses returned him to the Boards from whence he came.

"He'll be safe there," said Glasses, hesitating before finally placing a comforting hand on Emily's shoulder. "And I think he'll find that the interior analogue can be shaped to whatever he, or the other boarders, want."

"A pocket universe," murmured Redface. "Wow!" he added, looking at the machine with new-found respect. "Then that thing is like a CVE!"

"Cool!" enthused Glasses.

Emily smiled wistfully, turning away for a moment from her two colleagues. She'd had a tiring day, full of barely-avoided death and disaster, yet now she was sad it was over. There were other heros of course, she knew that - Captains Kirk and Picard, and Scarlet; Mulder, Scully, Skinner, Buffy, Sapphire, Angel, and Steel... But somehow it was the Doctor above all of them that she thought of. Tatty, a bit frayed around the edges, a law to himself, eccentric, indefinable...

And Emily, loved him.