As the TARDIS travels through the time-stream we find both Catherine and Artist in the depths of the nearly endless and very much alive machine. Artist watches himself in the mirror as he wears various clothes in an attempt to form a new outfit. He currently wears blue jeans and a red shirt.
"So, you're an alien?" asks Catherine as she watches politely.
Artist's reply is a simple "Yep."
"Cool. But you look like I do."
"Well Timelords tend to look like that. Anyone could be one really. From Mary Poppins to the Cat in the Hat," replies Artist as he puts on a well fitted denim jacket. "What do you think?"
The TARDIS makes an electronic noise as it lands while Catherine forms a rebuttal. "It's alright. But if we end up in the 1930's you'll look like a convict."
Artist makes his way for the door as he responds. "Catherine. We've got all of time and space in the entire universe. What are the chances we'll..." He halts as the doors open. "Oh." In front of him is a small American town, the year 1934. Artist immediately removes his jacket and throws it into the ship as he jogs back to the console. "Try again?" he asks Catherine with a borderline awkward smile.
"No," she replies. "Let's try it. Like a warm up round."
"Okay, well I'll just choose a camouflage so we won't lose track of the ship." He pushes a small button, and several small holograms appear before him. He looks at them, swiping the disliked ones away until he chooses one. "There we go."
"An ice cream truck?"
"Well it's either this or a phone booth. And I think someone would stumble inside that."
Catherine smiles. "Well I think a time traveling phone booth would be most excellent."
Artist gives her a blank stare.
"From Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure?"
"Alien, remember? I've only seen three films from your planet in my entire life."
"So you've been on Earth before then?" Retorts Catherine, placing her hand on the console.
"Only a few times, freelance work. Just to pay off a few debts before I head back home."
"But don't you like it here?"
"Oh yes. One war after another, terrorism, racism. What's not to love?"
"I see your point."
"And my home, it's great. Sure it's not the best planet in the universe but it's home. Maybe when all of this is over I'll take you to see it."
"Don't," replies Catherine in the subtlest fear.
Catherine clears her throat. "Well, I mean: There's a whole universe out there. Why go for people that look like us twice in a row."
Artist considers her statement. "Very true," he says with a single raised eyebrow. "So, how about we explore that little planet of yours?"
She smiles. "I'd like that." She then walks towards the door as Artist pushes a few buttons on the console.
"Alright well watch your first ste--"
Immediately Catherine drops from the door and stumbles on the pavement before striking her knee against it. Her rainbow-tiled satchel also falls from her body, causing the contents to nearly leave. She pushes them back in. "Maybe I should leave this inside."
"Sure, just put it by the doorway."
She does as instructed and Artist leaves the ship.
They look around, it's a small town that happily lives in its own time like any other. "So," says Artist with a sigh. "What would you like to do in a 20th century place like this?"
"How about we get some food?"
"But I have food in the TARDIS."
Catherine lets out a sarcastic smile. "I meant real food. Earth food."
Almost like a child Artist crosses his arms. "It is real food."
Catherine grabs his arm and they walk until they find a diner. They step in to find it in little occupation, a single cashier, a single cook, and only two tables in use from what appears to be two middle-aged siblings and another by a couple in their mid-twenties. Artist stares at the menu for a fraction of a second, as his race can read and an astonishing speed. "Hello," he says with a smile to the cashier. "I would like to purchase two cheeseburger five cents."
He stares at Artist in an iota of confusion. "You mean two cheeseburgers?"
Catherine leans in from behind Artist. "And one water and one iced tea please."
The cashier writes it down on a sheet of paper. "Alright then. That'll be twelve cents please." Artist reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a handful of the exact amount of money required. "Thank you, the food will be here soon, please take a seat."
Both Artist and Catherine sit in a booth, facing one another. "How did you have the money?" asks Catherine out of curiosity.
"It's alien tech. It's a psychic credit card. I actually handed him nothing." He pauses, seeing Catherine staring kindly at him. "What is it?"
Catherine rests her arms on the table. "So Artist, tell me something about yourself."
"May as well. I've never had a tag-along before. Uh... I'm a university graduate, got out about forty-four years ago. And I was given a type 99 TARDIS by the government with an agreement."
"What's the agreement?"
"When I receive a hypercube, which is like space mail, with the Rassilon symbol on it I've been drafted and must go to war."
"Do your people go to war often?"
"A few battles here and there, but we prefer to stick to the shadows."
A man approaches the table, he places the food before Artist and Catherine along with their drinks.
Artist takes a large bite from the cheeseburger and speaks immediately after swallowing. "This is very tasty. What is it again?"
Before Catherine replies the couple in another booth stand up, both holding large handguns. "Nobody move!" shouts the man.
The woman continues the demand. "Everyone remain calm and empty your pockets onto the tables!"
With little delay Catherine empties her pocket contents. The man walks threateningly towards their table to discover Artist still munching on the burger. He points his gun at his head.
"Do what the Mrs. says."
"If I tried to empty my pockets we'd be here for days."
"And why's that?" says the man, irritated as he arms the pistol.
"They're bigger on the inside." Retorts Artist as he takes yet another bite.
A single patrol car parks outside, the officer announces loudly. "Bonnie & Clyde! Step out from the diner or we will use force!"
"Name sounds familiar," says Artist with a mouthful of food.
Clyde re-aims his gun and fires, obliterating the food item between Artist's hands. "Cash. Now," he says sternly. "Oh, and Bonnie?"
"Deal with the copper please."
"Gladly," replies Bonnie before exiting through the back of the diner.
An almost silent buzzing begins outside the building. "What is that?" asks Catherine.
Artist follows the sound with his eyes, until it reaches the very visible entrance. "A Vespiform," he says as he sees the shock of the police officer as he draws his gun on what appears to be a gigantic wasp. But before he can fire his chest is pierced by the massive stinger. Catherine turns away and cringes. The Vespiform then gently makes its way to the front doors as it transforms back into a human named Bonnie Parker.
"It looks like these two saw," she says with a sadistic smile. "We'll have to keep them from telling."
Artist feels the hard press of a metal barrel against his head. Thinking quickly he shouts his reply. "Wait! I can prove to you that it'd be a waste of bullets! Bonnie. You're a Vespiform, an alien from the Silfrax galaxy. Your race is aware of the Timelords, are they not?"
Bonnie shows an mixture of surprise and confusion on her face. "Yes. But you can't--"
Artist moves his left hand into his jean pocket to grasp a metal pen-like device. "I am. So you know I'll be out of your hair regardless of if you kill me or not."
Bonnie considers this. "Yeah, but killing you would be more fun to watch."
But before the trigger is pulled Artist pushes the button on the device. The gun falls apart in Clyde's hand. Without word Catherine and Artist sprint for the exit. They continue to run all the way back to the ship. "I told you to try again!" he shouts at his companion.
"Oh shut up!" she yells back.
Artist directs his voice towards the ice-cream truck. "K-9! Open the door!" The doors open and both jump into the ship.
As they lay upon the metallic floor a small (and almost retro) robotic dog approaches. "Are there any injuries sustained upon yourself or Mistress Catherine?"
Artist replies in a groan. "No, thank you K-9."
"You are welcome." Replies the robots as it slowly and happily strolls away.
Catherine looks over. "What was that?" she asks, pointing at K-9.
"Cat, meet dog."