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The Legend of Dusty Hollow

By Cimmaron Spirit

Commission for Wes13

**WARNING: Actually, this isn't adult at all. I guess I did talk about growing breasts very briefly, but that's not really enough to warrant even a mature rating, isn't it? Bah, whatever. It's a Doctor Who inspired story, with time travelers and a villain you would never expect. So Enjoy!

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John groaned softly as he stretched his arms over his head. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Nothing like good ol' country air," he said to no one in particular. Standing on his front porch as the sun fell from the sky to the west, the anthro golden retriever knew he had the good life.

It was hard scratching out a living in Utah Territory, but at the same time it true and honest work, unlike some factory or clerk position out east he would have ended up in had he not taken the Union Pacific west.

A feral coyote howled off in the distance, making John's cattle and horse look up, nervous of that loud, high-pitched cry. John shook his head at their skittishness, and turned around and into his house.

John stepped in the door, taking off his hat and hanging it on a nail he christened a coat hook, and kicked out of the boots he was wearing. John hummed to himself, turning around to go make himself something for supper when he froze.

A brown furred horse in a black suit and tie that matched the immaculate combed and cared mane and tail sat in his chair, a golden pocket watch in his hoof tipped hands. He flipped it open, and instantly closed it again, before opening it once more to repeat the cycle. Open, close. Open, close.

"C-can I help you?" John asked. "And how did you get in here?"

"Oh, I'm a stallion of many surprises," the stranger replied, closing his pocket watch with a loud click, making John cringe and the rather suddenness of the sound. "And, yes, you can help me."

Before John could ask with what, the horse threw a glass bottle on the floor at the footpaws of the golden retriever, making it break open. John hacked and coughed as a foul, green gas floated up in the air, his mind starting to become hazy, his body feeling weak.

"Wh...what did you do?" John hacked out to the horse, who now had a strange mask over his face to protect from the hazardous chemicals.

The horse only chuckled, before John groaned and fell on the floor, passed out.

"Got a ticket to go home," the stallion finally replied, though John couldn't and wouldn't hear that answer. "Just need a few more now."

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With a mechanical wheeze and high-pitched groans, a blue box mysteriously appeared in the middle of the desert sands, fading in and out of sight before it finally fully revealed itself. There was nobody nearby, just a jack rabbit that stood up and stared. It's long ears facing the mysterious box with white letters on the top over the door saying "POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX" on a black background.

The front door swung inwards, and a resplendently dressed, well-built horse (one that wouldn't seem out of place in either a ball or a weightlifting contest in Victorian England) stepped out of the box, wearing sunglasses, a beret and holding a bottle of champagne.

"Well here we are," Wes said with a smile. "Paris, 2076! The Third Napoleonic Empire, what a time to be alive!"

A crow cawed in the distance, making Wes pause in his tracks. With a slow movement of his hoofed fingers, he slid the sunglasses over his broad muzzle.

Before him was the tall red stone spires of Monument Valley, Utah, a sight that looked like it was made by giants rather than geology. An eagle lazily circled overheard, surveying everything with its eyes. A stereotypical tumbleweed bounded past, blown where it may by the dry, dusty wind. Off in the distance, a small town with a long, nearly straight line of steel running east and west that pierced through the center of the small settlement confirmed that Wes was not in the right place. Again.

Wes, pulled off the sunglasses, and groaned. "Gosh darn it!" he turned to the blue box. "I thought I fixed the navigational computer on the TARDIS. Or is the transdimensional device now?" Wes grumbled as he walked back into the blue box, but a moment later returned wearing a cowboy hat.

"Well I guess might as well figure out when and why I'm here," he said, glaring at the TARDIS. "And I hope you're happy!"

He shut the door and locked it with his key, before taking a deep breath, and hiking his way over to the town.

His dark blue suit and green cravat, along with the carefully combed brown fur and hair was covered in a thin film of dust and sweat dripped from his forehead in the miserable heat of a mid-day summer afternoon of the American southwest. Wes was panting heavily, silently cursing himself for at least not bringing the TARDIS closer to town. But he shook his head, took a deep breath, and walked down the main dirt street toward the larger building with "Saloon" painted in large white letters.

Very few people were on the street, but the few that were looked at Wes, and almost immediately bolted. The few people who stayed on the street, on the porches of stores and homes, stared at the horse with a mixture of fear and curiosity. A few men even began reaching for the pistols on their hips.

"I sense some hostility among these folk," Wes said to himself, as a terrified vixen rushed her crying baby into the nearest door. "Paranoia, dread, fear of outsiders... I think I'll like this!"

Wes confidently strolled down the street, before marching up the wooden planks that lead to the clichéd swinging doors, which he threw open with a dramatic flair. The customers of the bar all glanced to the door, but just like before when he walked down the street, the reaction was almost uniformly hostile and tense.

Wes stood in the door, glancing around at the room. "I'm looking for..."

Every man and most of the women in the room had their weapons drawn and pointed at the stallion in the blue coat, making Wes blink.

"...the person in charge," Wes finished, looking around. "I thought I had a few more minutes before the guns were drawn."

"Where the hell is my son?" Some old wolf shouted in the corner.

"And Doctor Harvey?" a female eagle shouted. "And Miss Jameson?"

"Where are all the missing people?" A half dozen people shouted, most now getting closer, to the point that one wrong move, and Wes would have been riddled with bullet's like Swiss cheese. Some of the people started calling him the "Black Ring Kidnapper," which Wes was pretty sure wasn't supposed to be a compliment.

Wes looked around. "Uhh, I think I came to the wrong bar," he said. "But missing people now? That's interesting. And since you are all looking at me," Wes started, looking around the room. "And there are no other equines in this room, and none on the streets, I assume you think it's a horse that did this, right?"

"And it looks a lot like you," one of he angry mob growled, followed by a chorus of agreement and calls for Wes' head.

Wes backed up as the mob approached, but a cold steel barrel jabbed into his back prevented him from going any further.

"Uh... can we talk about this?" Wes asked, but the mob was moving too quickly, and their eyes flashed with murderous rage.

A gunshot was fired from the back of the room, making everyone freeze and look to the bar. Standing there was a tall blonde cow with large white horns topped by a white cowboy hat, wearing blue jeans and a red shirt that that somehow managed to hide the expanse of her chest. A bright golden belt buckle glimmered in the afternoon light. Her smoking revolver was still pointed up at the ceiling and she tipped the glass she had been drinking from.

She set the glass down with a loud in the very quiet room. "Y'all got a lot of nerve to try to lynch a man without a trial while the sheriff is standing right here," she said, holstering her gun and walking into the crowd, which parted as if she was Moses at the Red Sea. "I've been doing my best to find the missing people, but you folks just keep jumping to conclusions, screwing up everything I've been doing." She finally stopped in front of Wes, everyone else in the saloon having backed away from the time traveler. "Welcome to Dusty Hollow," Bessie said, offering her hand to the stunned horse, who took it. She had a really strong grip, nearly wanking Wes' arm out of his socket. "Sorry for the reception you got. Now, stranger... what can I do for you?"

Bessie was the cow sheriff's name, and she was remarkably understanding of Wes as he explained what happened.

"Time travel, huh?" she said, motioning to the bartender for another drink. "I'm half way inclined to believe you. The fancy getup, just marching into town like that... and you don't even have a Colt on you. No one in their right mind would come out here without some form of protection."

"I have other weapons at my disposal," Wes replied. "But what's this about missing people?"

Bessie frowned. "Well, for the past few weeks, people have been vanishing from the region. The couple eyewitnesses I have said there was always a horse or equine that was around when the person vanished. I'd investigated the one horse family in the area, but they packed up and left soon after... but the people still disappear." She took a drink, setting the glass on the bar. "So I'm not sure what to do from here."

Before Wes could say anything, the doors slammed open again, this time a short, lithe coyote burst in, his eyes wide in terror.

"He... he struck again!" the coyote cried out, rushing to Bessie. "John Hargrave's gone! His house is in ruins! The kidnapper has struck again!"

Bessie put her hand on the coyote's head, stopping him in his tracks, while the other reached out to close the panicking coyote's jaw, and preventing him from shouting anymore.

"Calm down Billy," Bessie said in hushed, quiet tones. "You say John Hargrave, the farmer a few miles out of town?"

The coyote nodded his head, as much as Bessie's hands allowed him too.

"And there's no sign he's there? That he just left for a few days?"

Billy shook his head this time.

"And was there a burn mark on the floor? Perfect circle?"

The coyote nodded.

"Alright. Now Billy, be quiet about this. The town is already on edge, we don't need anyone else stirring them up, got it?"

Bessie let go of Billy's mouth, and the coyote scampered backwards, apologizing nervously the whole way.

The bartender, an old goat in a clean and well-pressed outfit leaned over the bar. "Do you need your special brew Sheriff?" he asked.

The cow turned around, thought for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, that'd be great Carl. Just a bottle though."

The bartender nodded and rushed away, returning a moment later with a brown bottle without a label. Bessie took it and put it in one of her pockets. Wes raised an eyebrow, butt Bessie only smiled.

"It's my special power," she said with a wink. "Well stranger, do you care to come with me? Maybe you can find something I can't. And I'm still not even sure if I can fully trust you."

"Well I'm a madman with a blue box. What do you expect?"

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Wes wasn't used to riding his feral brethren, and Bessie was laughing almost the entire time between the town and the now abandoned homestead.

But once they walked into the house, Bessie sobered up. The house had looked like it had been destroyed, as if there had been a big fight. But on the beaten dirt that formed the floor of the small log cabin, a perfectly charred black circle was etched into the ground.

"Hmm, interesting," Wes said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a long silver rod with a red gem on the end. He pointed it at the circle, and pushing a button, a high-pitched buzzing sound came out, the gem flashing red.

Bessie turned from the broken dishes to the loud noise. "What in tarnation is that?"

"Sonic screwdriver," Wes said, waving it around the black circle before he pulled it up and the buzzing stopped. "A hand-held computer that can do almost anything," he grinned.

"What's a cam-pew-ter?" Bessie asked, rolling the last R.

Wes didn't hear, looking at the sonic screwdriver. "Huh, interesting."

"What?"

"Well, there are traces of uranium and radium here, which is odd," Wes said, looking up and over at the calendar next to the door. "It's 1873, and neither has been discovered, or rather no use has been found."

"What are you talking about?"

"Whoever made this ring has access to technology not available to anyone yet." Wes stroked his chin. "But how do we find that?"

Bessie looked at Wes suspiciously. "But you got advanced stuff. Why wasn't it you?"

"Because I don't randomly kidnap people," Wes said, walking over to the broken dishes, and looking at the furniture in the area. "And this is odd as well."

"What now?" Bessie said. "Some evil technology that can blow up the planet?"

"Nah, that's the Uranium," Wes said. "But look. The table hadn't been moved, and the dishes were smashed on the ground right where they had all been stacked. And also..." Wes said, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and pointing it at the tracks in the house. "Fresh Hoof prints. And only hoof prints, and they were spread out like one person just walking around. No fresh claw marks where a canine would have dug into the ground to brace himself against a horse in a fight. And the hoof marks are smaller than mine."

"Okay, so it wasn't you," Bessie admitted. "But who was it?"

"That... I can't help you with." Wes said. "At least, not yet."

Wes walked back to the ring, looking at it again. Wes used the sonic screwdriver on the ring once more, this time the buzzing was even higher pitched.

Wes pulled the sonic screwdriver to eye level, and looked once again. He blinked. "No, it can't be. But it must be. But... it can't be!"

"What is it?" Bessie said.

Wes turned to Bessie. "It's worse than I feared. There are trace readings of Chronoium, one of the only materials in the universe besides my TARDIS that can facilitate time travel."

"What? Now I'm dealing with two time travelers?"

"And one of them is a bad guy," Wes stated. "But... I don't know how it can be."

"What do you mean?"

"I only know one person with a device that uses Chronoium, and he's perhaps the last person I ever expected to do something like this."

"But he did do it, right?"

"Maybe." Wes shook his head. "But we need to find him. And I know how to do it."

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The TARDIS ground to a wheezing halt outside a seemingly abandoned mineshaft, the wooden sign used to name the place having faded and fallen from its perch above the door.

The door swung in and Wes stepped out, racing straight to the door, his sonic screwdriver already out and buzzing as Wes waved it around the area. A moment later, a wide-eyed and stunned Bessie stumbled out, looking back at the blue Police Call box, before walking around it, and peaking through the front door again.

"It... it's bigger on the inside," she stammered. "And I thought I'd seen everything before I even came to this town."

"Well I need the room! Never know when you're going to need an infinite space crammed into a box. Now come on! The Chronoium radiation leads to here."

Bessie shook her head and walked up to where Wes was, walking into a small log cabin. Wes looked around, his sonic screwdriver surveying everything in the room.

"Hmm," Wes hummed to himself, turning off the hand held computer. "If I was an equine time traveler with advanced technology, where would I hide the secret door to get into my secret base?"

"How about in a box that's smaller on the outside," Bessie remarked.

"Hey now, not everyone has access to dimensional folding," Wes replied, walking around the cabin. "But, since the person we are dealing with doesn't have that, because if they did, that means they're a bigger problem than I thought."

"How do you know he doesn't have it?"

"I don't, I'm just saying that to make you feel better," Wes replied, more focused on the floor and walls of the log cabin. "Now, anything that seems out of place or weird?"

"Counting you?" Bessie said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes... no!" Wes exclaimed, turning around. "I'm trying to be serious here, damnit!" In his anger, Wes bumped the roughly fabricated table in the middle of the room, and the table groaned as it slid across the wooden floor, and a chain reaction of metal and gears echoed and screeched in the enclosed space. But once the table was to the side, the floorboards split to reveal a metal staircase that lead straight down.

"Well... that's out of place," Wes said.

"And weird," Bessie added, pulling the Colt Peacemaker from off her hip. "Come on then Time Traveler, let's see where this leads."

The walls were perfectly dug out and braced with steel girders and concrete to prevent any accidental cave ins, and it was lit by florescent lights that would have been more in place in a modern high school building than an Old West mine shaft. Wes continued to hmm and talk to himself as they walked deeper and deeper down the tunnel, which bent and twisted and turned quite a lot until any normal person would have been totally turned around.

They finally came to a massive metal door, and only an electronic number pad was there.

"That is fairly future tech," Wes said, running a hoof-tipped finger over it. "I wonder how it got here. Because it looks like it might have been made in this time, but no one should have the ability to make it."

"Our mysterious time traveler?" Bessie offered.

"The materials would be pretty hard to find as well." Wes shrugged, and pointed his screwdriver at the pad, and pushed the button. A high-pitched buzz and whine filled the tunnel, before the electronic pad burst in sparks and smoke. The metal door it had been guarding casually slid to the side.

"Huh, I thought I could have just cracked the code, not bust it," Wes sighed, looking at his sonic screwdriver. "I guess I got to fix you too, huh?"

Bessie dashed inside, her hooves clanging on metal catwalk grating. But it was drowned out by the noise below them.

There was a huge cavern, the size of the entire town of Dusty Hollow, and all sorts of anthropomorphic animals, ranging from bears to mountain lions to canines and felines of all shapes and sizes were chained together, digging into the pit, pushing carts of earth and stone along rickety mine tracks, while a few stirred the material into blast furnaces that heated the cavern into the deepest rings of hell. They all had milky white eyes, without a pupil.

"It's all the missing people," Bessie whispered to Wes. "There's Doc Harvey, and John, and Betty Cawford... all of them are here."

Wes looked down and around. "The chains aren't even hooked to each other. It looks like the chains themselves are being used to mind control. Look how none of them are taking breaks or slowing their labors."

"Who... what... why?" Bessie stammered.

Wes looked around, then pointed to a black suited, brown furred stallion walking amongst the laborers, but didn't have the chain. "I knew it. I still can't believe it's him though... but that's the guy that's doing this." Looking around, then using his sonic screwdriver at the wall. "The entire cavern is full of Chronoium, so that's the what they are doing. And if I had a guess as to why..."

"Don't care," Bessie growled, standing up. "I'm going to break them out."

"No, not yet," Wes said, grabbing her arm and pulling her back down. "There is something that is being used to control them... a computer or something. We got to shut that computer down, or the overload from trying to remove the chains will fry their brains."

Bessie snorted. "Well... what then?"

"How about a diversion?" Wes asked. "I'll go find the computer, shut it down, and then we both confront that man."

Bessie slowly nodded. "Fine. Deal with your fancy doohickey, then let's settle this."

Wes grinned. "Don't worry, it can't be to far away."

The part Time Lord slipped away, along the catwalk that ran along the edge of the room. He kept glancing around, trying to find a room or place where a mind control device would have been set up. Somewhere behind Wes, on the other side of the chamber, a loud explosion echoed through the cavern, followed by a crash of metal and steel.

"Well, that's one way to set up a diversion," Wes said with a smile.

"Yes, a diversion," the black dressed horse said, walking up to Wes. The second horse was at least a foot shorter than the tall Wes, but just as well dressed (and more fitting for the times than the other stallion), and he fumbled a pocket watch in his hand, opening the cover and closing it. Click. Click. Click. Click.

"Cimmaron," Wes growled. "Of all the people..."

"Oh, you think I'm that Cimmaron, Wes?" the other horse said, before chuckling. "Oh, no, I'm not the happy, cheery Cim that you know so well."

"So... an AltCim, huh? I thought most of you were different species."

"Not all of us," the AltCim said. "But I am different. I understood the power we had, all of us millions upon millions of alternate versions of the same time traveler. We could dominate the whole multiverse. But no. We had to restrain our powers. Use it to save a person here, a person there. But not prevent disasters. Every war has to happen as it was going to happen, every famed target assassinated.

"But what about a world... a universe, an entire multiverse where there didn't happen?"

"Because you can't just rewrite time as you see fit!" Wes exclaimed.

"That's exactly what that do-gooder Cimmaron, the Mark I, the Default, said," the AltCim nickered in anger. "Had me trapped on this planet with a broken Chronodevice for... close to four thousand years now." Cimmaron looked at the pocket watch in his hand, the single most powerful object ever created, one that can open fissures in time and space to allow people, armies, entire planets to go through, and then still change into whatever it's wielder needed. "I've been here since Egypt was the only civilization that existed, and at that time a young one. But now..."

"You're going to repair the Chronodevice?"

"Not repair it. Improve it. Make it a Chronosphere. One that never runs out of energy, one that allows unlimited time travel, one that will let me end all of humanity's suffering."

"By going through and killing innocent people?" Wes asked. "Going to kill people to save people?"

"The bad people! The Hitler's, the Genghis Kahns, the Caligulas. The Dictators and tyrants that killed and murdered for petty things like race and conquest." The AltCim raised an eyebrow. "The Daleks, the Cybermen, all the thousands of monsters the Time Lords have fought... in a moment, they could all be gone."

Wes frowned. "But what will stop you? Where will you stop? So long as there are two people living, one of them will hate the other."

"That's where this comes in handy," the AltCim said, holding up one of the mind control chains. "I'm sure you know what it's used for."

Wes tried to duck as Cimmaron threw the chain, but it wrapped around Wes' neck, wrapping around and around until it latched itself together. Wes could feel his mind being taken over, and he struggled and fought against it.

"N-no," Wes groaned, his body falling to the floor in slow motion. "I... I will never..."

The AltCim smirked. "Oh, Wes. You were just a copy, a duplicate of another Police box driving Time Lord. I met him. Long before I became an AltCim, back when my mind and soul and body was still the original Cimmaron. But he had all that power to change the past and the future, and what did he do? Run across the universe, fought minor victories against his enemies, but he could never destroy them. He would never destroy them."

Wes's brain function was fading fast, his vision blacking out.

"But I will finish what he started. With your help."

Wes collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

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The TNT was easy to find, and just as easy to set up and detonate. But Wes wasn't showing up to help, and the kidnapped people were still in their trance like state.

Bessie sighed. "Fine, I'll go see what's keeping him up," she mumbled, leaping across the hole in the catwalk she made and walking around it to get to the other side.

Part way along, Bessie noticed a massive pile of wires and cables and plates and other objects that she couldn't describe.

"What is this?" Bessie asked. Unfortunately, that smarty pants Wes wasn't here to explain it. But it was surrounded by barbed wire and hung over the pit, making accessing it almost impossible.

"Must be somewhat important," Bessie mumbled. She thought for a moment, then raced back to the pile of dynamite she found, and grabbed a handful more, before running back to the electronic mess.

"Well, here's hoping," she mumbled, striking a match on the rough walls, and using it to light all of the TNT. When she was sure the long fused TNT was properly lit, she tossed it onto the pile, and dashed around the corner.

KABOOM! KABOOM! KABOOM! The TNT went off one after the other, shattering the pile of electronics and the wooden cradle that had been holding it all up. The burning and destroyed electronics fell to the ground below.

The kidnapped people in the cavern all jerked suddenly, as if all of them had been shocked suddenly, then fell to the ground.

"Oh crap!" Bessie shouted. She stepped to the edge of the railing, looking at all the fallen and prone bodies. Bessie took a deep breath, swinging her leg over the railing, and dropping off.

Before she had fallen five feet into the cavern, she pulled a string on her belt. With a fwomp!, her pants inflated outwards into a large dress, acting as a parachute as she slowly, gracefully fell to the ground.

"Well that's just as handy as it has ever been," she smiled, thankful for the smart man that designed and built the special dress and pants years before, in a different world than the one she lived in now.

Her hooves touched the earth, landing a couple feet from the nearest kidnaped resident of Dusty Hollow, and felt for a pulse. Bessie breathed a sigh of relief when she could feel the heart beating.

"Oh thank God, I didn't kill them," she said with a smile.

"But you are too late!" a voice boomed overhead, making Bessie look up to see Cimmaron standing over her and the biggest vat of molten metal. "I have your precious Time Lord, I have all the Chronoium I need, and soon I will put an end to all this!"

Bessie gasped, seeing the taller horse standing next to the evil stallion, his eyes as white as the people before she destroyed the mind control device.

"And before you think about it, this one is self powered. And there is no way you can remove it!" he shouted. "And besides, how would you want to live in a world without war, without violence, where sheriff's and soldiers didn't need a job?"

"Oh spare the monologue," Bessie snarled. "You let these people go!"

"You already did that. I don't need them anymore." Cimmaron glanced at the blast furnace. "I just dump my Chronodevice in there, and all the Chronoium will fuse and make a Chronosphere, the most perfect time machine ever!"

Bessie growled, but noticed Wes was twitching a little bit, his left hand waving to Bessie. Before Bessie could say anything, that hand reached into the time traveler's pocket and pulled out the sonic screwdriver, dropping it through the grating and it landed on the floor below.

Bessie looked at the strange device for a moment, before she jumped up and raced to where Wes had dropped the sonic screwdriver. She picked up the silver stick with a red gem, and pointed it up at Cimmaron, pushing the button.

"Wha-what are you doing?" Cimmaron called out, the metal grating the two horses were standing on shaking as if in the middle of an earthquake. "You don't even know how to use it, do you?"

Bessie lowered the screwdriver. "No, but it was worth a shot." Bessie pulled out the brown bottle that the bartender had given her earlier. "This on the other hand, I do know how to use."

Bessie popped the cork top off the bottle, and brought the bottle to her muzzle, downing the entire contents of the bottle. The fluid drained quickly, the bovine's throat sucking the liquid as quickly as she could.

When the last drop left the bottle and into her mouth, Bessie pulled the bottle away, using the back of her hand to wipe away any remaining fluid on her lips, before letting out a loud belch.

"I think it's working," Bessie said with a grin.

Before the AltCim could ask what "it" was, Bessie's entire body exploded outwards. Foot after foot of height was added, growing the bovine taller and taller, until she was eye level with AltCim, then easily towering over him like a Colossus.

The voluptuous woman quickly gained even larger breasts and hips, with her clothes stretched to accommodate, a feat only possible due to the native curse/blessing placed on her when she first began traveling and sheriffing, a long time before. But had anyone besides the AltCim been awake or functional, she would have been a woman that any straight man would have wanted to have on his arm.

"What... how... why?" Cimmaron sputtered.

"Sarsaparilla packs a punch with me," Bessie smirked, burping right into Cim's face.

The AltCim waved his hoofed hand in front of him. "So you got a growing trick. Big deal," he scowled, before picking up his golden pocket watch. "But you can't stop me!" Cim threw the pocket watch into the air where it would perfectly land in the middle of the molten Chronoium.

Bessie reached out and bounced the Chronodevice away from the vat, where is landed at her feet. Cim's eyes went wide in shock and stunned surprise. Bessie turned back to look at Cim, their eyes locking as a smirk went across her face. Raising a massive hoof, she brought it down right on top of the Chronodevice.

A muffled explosion rang out, followed by smoke curling up from under Bessie's hoof.

"Oh... no! No, no, no, no!" Cim cried out. "You... you destroyed it!"

Bessie smirked. "Well, that's what you deserve, now don't you, partner?" She asked, reaching to pick up the stunned, devastated horse, easily lifting him off the ground with only three fingers, before grabbing some of the chain that Cimmaron had modified. "And now it's time for justice."

"No! NOOOO!!!" the AltCim cried out as the mind control chain was tightly wrapped multiple times around him, his mind quickly succumbing to the powerful technology. His eyes turned blank white, and he was set in the corner, away from everyone else.

With the AltCim taken care of, Bessie turned her attention to Wes. She took a look at the chain, and noticed the one at the bottom had several wires on it. She carefully took the link, and with a push of her fingers, flattened the forged steel.

Wes gasped as the mind control wore off, and he fell backwards onto the catwalk, moaning softly. He blinked, his mind slowly turning on again after having been completely taken over. But he was a Time Lord (or, at least partially one), so it wasn't going to take too long for his body to recover.

"Bessie..." he panted, looking up at the giantess. "You... you did it."

"Well you helped," Bessie said with a smile.

Wes smiled a bit. "And, I have to say... at that size, you look stunning."

Bessie gave a low moo. "Awww shucks."

"Say... do you want to go to dinner later?" Wes asked. "I can take you to some nice planet, say Fercaku IV, best food in the whole galaxy."

"I don't know if I can fit in your door, but that sounds lovely."

Wes smiled, before reaching into this pocket. "Wait... where did my sonic screwdriver go?"

Bessie blinked, before lifting up her hoof. Beside the broken Chronodevice was an equally shattered and devastated sonic screwdriver.

"Oopsie," Bessie said with a slight chuckle as Wes stared in shock. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll buy dinner."