the drums , the drums , pounding , pounding , pounding , the drums pounding , endlessly pounding inside his head. one two three four. one two three four. once , he was the cleverest of time lords. destined for great and terrible things. but that rhythm , inescapable even in death , even across a string of broken && rebuilt bodies ——— it makes concentration difficult. one two three four. one two three four. it pushes him to the brink of madness , a world full of shadows and phantom sounds. a world nearly as horrific as the battlefield upon which he finds himself in his rare lucid moments. one two three four. one two three four. and that is why he needs a CAUSE. something to which he can devote every fibre of his substantial intellect , his every waking moment. an escape , within his mind , from the wasteland to which his body is bound.
POWER.
across each regeneration , that is his only clear thought. every star visible through the fire and smoke that fills gallifrey’s sky is his by right , every single soul on the battlefield , dalek and time lord alike , will one day kneel before him. he counts them , inside his head , as dalek lasers miss his dirt - encrusted skin by mere inches. one two three four. one two three four. as he tries && fails to fall asleep each night , before being driven back out onto the battlefield with the coming dawn. one two three four. one two three four.
he is not a prisoner
he is not a prisoner
he is not
he is
THE MASTER.
he has lost much in this war : all but one of the lives he’d been promised , upon graduating from the academy. his ship. his will. his sanity.
and so when he wakes one morning on a soft hotel bed in the heart of london , universes away from the war - torn planet upon which he’d been loomed , he thinks it nothing more than another in a long string of hallucinations , even if it is the first pleasant one he’s encountered. warily , feet reach out to touch the floor. warily , scarred hands reach up to touch his face , his hair. solid. the floor feels cold against the sensitive skin on the bottoms of his feet , and he winces as calloused fingers brush against a deep bruise under his right eye.
impossible.
master. a voice — soft , familiar — seeps through his consciousness like blood through a vein , filling every empty crevice. master. that IS what you like to be called , is it not ? pale, chapped lips curl back into a snarl. new , that , but not unexpected. after all , the animal inside has always rested dangerously close to the surface of his consciousness , with only his will , his sanity , to keep it at bay —— at least , when he chose to do so. what , now , lay between him and that most primal of creatures ? a soft chuckle answers him. taunts him.
RASSILON.
you recognize my voice , then. a good start. you have seen the state of gallifrey , master. it does not have long. you stopped the council , once , from wiping this planet clean && turning it into a new home for the time lord race. now you have a chance to make amends. do exactly as I tell you , master , and you will be the architect of a golden age. the earth will be destroyed. the doctor will die. just as you’ve always wanted.
❛ never have been one for following orders , now , have I ? ❜ he snaps , though the words come out as just a raspy murmur , as rich brown eyes scan the room for an exit.
we are inside your head , master. you won’t escape us.
❛ can’t blame a bloke for trying though , can you ? ❜ he turns the knob , pulls the hotel room door open wide ——— only to find a massive crowd of reporters awaiting him on the other side. eager voices rise in a cacophony of sound that still does not drown out rassilon’s delighted laughter inside the master’s head. at least a dozen microphones are thrust in front of the time lord’s face , and the incessant flashing of cameras nearly blinds him.
❛ MR. SAXON ! MR. SAXON ! ❜ the reporters cry out , battling against each other for the master’s attention. ❛ how are you recovering from the accident ? ❜ ❛ will the shuttle launch still be taking place as scheduled ? ❜ ❛ any words for your shareholders after yesterday’s system failure ? ❜
harold saxon , rassilon purrs inside his head. billionaire ceo && innovator of SAXON INDUSTRIES. the man behind the largest privately - owned space program on the planet. and , in a month’s time , you’re going to debut a bold new shuttle design ——— only , the humans won’t recognize it as a gallifreyan environment charge. the entire population of the planet will be wiped out in seconds , leaving it primed and ready for the time lords to build their new empire. elegant , don’t you think ? and you get to be the one to pull the trigger !
the master , still unsteady on his feet , clutches the door frame to keep his balance.
❛ alright , alright , now ! ❜ a man — hotel security , from the look of it — gestures to the ravenous crowd of reporters to move along. ❛ this isn’t a press conference. everyone out ! ❜
the words you’re looking for , master , rassilon’s voice , again , now baring an edge of impatience , are THANK YOU.
𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝚂𝙰𝚇𝙾𝙽. 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴. at least , the tardis feels as though she should know it. ———— it seems every where she looks , there he is. staring at her from the front cover of a magazine , speaking to the word of this new space program he’d begun. fascinating things , truly. she understands , why so many find him captivating . . . a charismatic speaker , he’s able to capture the attentions of his audience. and such a presence ! at every street corner , she hears the whispers of human women who seem to marvel at the very sight of him as his admittedly quite dreadfully handsome features. ( not that the newly - formed woman paid much attention to that. ) time goes on , and it becomes clearer and clearer that this man must know something of her time lord.
why else , would she find herself drawn to him , like a moth to a flame ? watching one television appearance after another , as though he were a craving she could never seem to satisfy. perhaps , she thinks , they’d been working together. perhaps her time lord’s scent lingered over this harold saxon , and that was what called the tardis to him. ———— and she must be drawing closer ; for each and every night now , the time vortex calls to her.
give up. it does not whisper to her any more , has stopped using sweet tones and coaxing voices , in an effort to lure her away. do not look for him , he does not want you ! voice is harsh now. clipped , agitated. don’t you think he would have come back , if he wanted you ? and perhaps the vortex is right , she thinks. but if it is , the tardis is determined to hear him speak it. hear the words from his own lips , before she makes her decision.
it is weeks later , that the universe finally aligns && presents the tardis with an opportunity that she cannot deny. A PRESS CONFERENCE , to discuss saxon industries’ space program . . . and who else but harold saxon himself , would be in attendance ? but how to get in. certainly , there would be security present. ———— she has watched his interviews enough , to know that there are many on this world who do not agree with his views in regards to space exploration. she would require something subtle. something that would allow her to get close to him , without . . . oh !
two days later , the tardis finds herself walking effortlessly into a nearby hotel conference room , press badge bearing the name ELIAN PARKER pinned to her chest. turning the corner , she sees him standing at the very front of the room . . . and though her view is limited , despite arriving early ( these reporters must have lined up overnight , for a closer spot ! ) , one thing has become overwhelming clear , since arriving into the room. 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙽 𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙻 𝙷𝙸𝙼 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁. and even more than that . . . this harold saxon must know him , since his supposed space craft , is hardly a space craft at all.
it isn’t until the end of the press conference , that the tardis ——— elian , she has now decided to call herself , steps forward. head held high and pushing past row upon row of reporter. ❛ mr . saxon ! ❜ she exclaims , clearing her throat so as to draw his attention towards her. she can feel hope stirring within her chest. in this moment , she is closer to finding her time lord than ever before . . . and she can practically taste it. ❛ what an absolutely dreadfully wonderful design for a space craft ! ❜ she smiles , swallowing hard in an attempt to hide her nerves. ❛ I haven’t ever dreadfully seen something like this , in such a terribly long time ! ——— not ever , I mean. ❜ tentatively , elian steps forward. and if harold saxon looks closely , he might see a glint of a knowing smile slip across her features , as she speaks once more.
❛ it’s only that it does awfully remind me of this . . . toy , that I used to have when I was just a little girl. AN ENVIRONMENT CHARGE. is that what inspired the design of it ? ——— if you do dreadfully have a moment . . . I’d like to ask you some questions in private , mr . saxon . . . ❜
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