"I don't understand, sir," Rosita said. "What happened to that man? Was it the Cybermen's lightening?"

"I don't think so," the Doctor replied, slowly, thoughtfully. "I really don't think so. It would have not been so focused on his shoulder if it were the lightening - oh, come on, brain…!"

He tapped his finger against his head, and looked as though he was deep in thought. Then, suddenly, he snapped his fingers, and smiled.

"I've got it!" he said. "That Cyberman I saved you from – he meant to grab me, did he not?"

Rosita thought back, and nodded, and the Doctor smiled.

"Yes!" he said. "The Cybermen shoot lightening from their arms, do they not?"

"Yes," Rosita said.

"Well then," the Doctor smiled. "Obviously, the creature creates the lightening within himself – electricity is conducted by metal…"

"And Cybermen are made of it!" Rosita said.

"Exactly!" the Doctor smiled. "Now then, that would mean that the Cybermen murder those people using their hands, electrocuting them. It would certainly be more surreptitious then using that lightening, they wouldn't want to attract the attention of the military, no matter how much more powerful they are. Now let me think…"

Rosita watched the great man contemplate, practically stone still, as his brilliant mind tried to grapple with the problem before it. It was a great privilege, she thought to herself, to get to witness this process.

"It seems to me," he said after a moment, "that there is a particular creature involved, a particular Cyberman."

"How so, sir?" Rosita asked.

"They are creatures of intellect and logic, Rosita," the Doctor pointed out. "Creatures without souls. They think in terms of logic, tactics, and in such terms, given the power of a single Cyberman, they would not waste more than a single Cyberman on Londns populous, because only a single Cyberman would suffice. What we need to do is destroy that single Cyberman."

"Why sir?" Rosita asked.

"Because with that Cyberman gone, they would be forced to come out in force," the Doctor smiled, the idea now reaching its peak. "And in doing so, it would be far easier for the authorities to notice them. They may be powerful, these Cybermen, but put them up against a brigade of England's finest, and we shall see who is victorious!"

He got to his feet.

"Come on, Rosita!" he said. "We must set several traps, then lure the creature out."

"What sort of traps, Doctor?" Rosita asked.

"Leave that to me!" the Doctor said. "We'll need rope, and anvils, and…"

And so planning, they went into the night.

--

One week later.

Rosita sighed, as the Doctor inspected the complicated system of pulleys he had set up. For the past week, they had been working towards the goal of finding and destroying more Cybermen. Rosita looked at the paper she had bought with the money the Doctor had been paying her.

"Doctor," she called, but he ignored her. "Doctor!"

"Yes, what is it Rosita?" he said, clearly irritated by her interruption.

"Look at this," she said. "'The Reverend Aubrey Fairchild, found dead in his home from strange burns to his forehead, to be buried in one week at two o'clock'."

She looked at the Doctor, who was nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes… you think it may be the work of the Cybermen?" he asked.

"Why not?" Rosita queried right back. "It's not like they can only grab people's shoulders. They must have fried his brain…"

"Quite possible," the Doctor theorised. "Very possible. Yes, that is a possibility. Aubrey Fairchild?"

"That's what it says," Rosita said, giving him the paper. He read it thoughtfully, then made a decision.

"At two o'clock, I shall investigate the house and see if there is anything there linking the reverend to the Cybermen," he decreed.

"What do you mean, you'll investigate?" Rosita said, annoyed. "What happened to the we?"

"We will investigate," the Doctor said. "I've been on the Cybermens' trail for the past three weeks, and I know that they are a deadly foe. It would be better for me to investigate it alone."

Rosita said nothing. It was often best not to argue with the Doctor on these point. His wit was such that any argument against him often failed miserably.

"So will these traps work?" Rosita asked, changing the subject.

"If a Cyberman blunders into them, they'll be destroyed," the Doctor promised. "They're foolproof."

"If, a Cyberman blunders into it," Rosita pointed out. He grinned at her and beeped her nose.

"Oh ye of little faith," he smiled, and he walked off, leaving her to follow and tut at him.

--

One week later.

The Doctor had checked every trap for the past six days, but now, today, they were getting close. A Cyberman, he could feel it.

Rosita was the bait. She waited in an alley for the creature – when it got out, she would call for help and the Doctor would come to aid her, and destroy the beast. She would be safe, he had given her his trusted Sonic Screwdriver.

He moved to check his watch, but then he remembered that it was broken, so he left it alone. A broken watch. Why on Earth did he carry a broken watch?

"Doctor!" came the call, and he looked up. It couldn't have accosted her already?

"Doctor!" the cry came again, and this time, he was on his feet, running, running towards danger, towards intrigue, towards what was his destiny. Time Lord. One, Only, Best. Hero. why shouldn't he always be like that?

He came to the alley, and saw Rosita with another gentleman – someone come to gallantly rescue her, no doubt. There were few such men, and seeing one come to a pleading womans aid cheered the Doctors heart. A door was pounding – silly Rosita had panicked, but he supposed he couldn't blame her – he could hear the noises from here. No Cyberman he had seen made such noise…

"Right then!" he called as he reached them. "Don't worry. Stand back. What have we got here then?"

He knew, but he felt like saying it.

"Hold on, who are you?" the man asked. The Doctor grinned, and turned.

"I'm the Doctor!" he proclaimed. "Simply the Doctor! The one, the only, and the best!"

He ignored Rosita rolling her eyes, and held out his hand.

"Rosita, give me the Sonic Screwdriver," he ordered her. She handed him it, and he indicated the way he had come. The man looked at it in puzzlement.

"Now quickly," he said. "Get back to the TARDIS."

"The what?" the man asked.

"If you could stand back sir," the Doctor told him, "this is a job for a Time Lord." He smiled, hoping to reassure this gentleman. The man didn't take the hint, and instead leaned in.

"Job for a what lord?" he asked. Then, before the Doctor could tell him to go away, the door burst open, and the creature appeared. Rusted metal, fur coat.

"Oh, that's new," he commented with a smile. Then, holding his Sonic Screwdriver in front of him, every inch the hero, he bellowed his war cry, just as this other man did the same;

"Allonsy!"