Who: The Master and Byron Balaz.
What: Sniffing each other out outside the Halloween party.
When: Backdated to 31/10/2010 22:55:23:098 EST.
Where: Outside Ara.
Rating: M for
moving it out of the party thread in case things get dicey and off topic.
Status: Complete.
(
No... )
And there was still the question of why Byron hadn't sensed him clearly right off the bat if he was genetically predisposed to. "I don't think I have your name yet, though, either. Baron Byron Balaz, Lord of the Sourthern Control Zone." He used his full (and not exactly accurate) title in presence of the Timelord because it seemed proper when greeting a natural mortal enemy.
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"So much for being the Lords of Time if you can't figure out a way out of this place. I suppose you are without your ship as well?" Regardless, that was something that should have been evident when he first arrived, but Byron needed to make absolutely sure that this one didn't have any surprises laying in wait.
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"The Web of Time is broken." He shrugged. "Where would I go? But I wouldn't need a ship, if I were to go."
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"Mad as well? Wonderful, seems like my father has impecable taste in random dimensions." Byron said under his breath, eyes leveled with the Timelord. "Here, perhaps it is, but not where you're from, I'm sure. And last time I checked, all Timelords needed a ship." Unless, for some reason this one could survive in the raw streams of time itself, in which case, Byron had a ver, very big problem.
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His face went angry as his attention focused in, painfully, on the horrible chaos that Time had become. "No Time Lords. No Web of Time. There's no one putting it in order! No one watching. Got it? You can do anything you like now!"
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In fact, it was one of the reasons the Nobility had taken issue with them to begin with. The idea that a single race had claimed dominion over Time Itself had never quite sat right. Of course, the Timelord answer to that was that Nobility rule over humanity wasn't much better, in fact, it was worse. They's always had a thing for humans, apparently, some more than others, if history was to be believed.
Then, it clicked.
'Oh, this is priceless.'"How the mighty have fallen." Byron sneered. Obviously all that pride and arrogance of the Timelords had gotten them in the end. "And ( ... )
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"Who are you?" He asked. He'd asked the same of The Doctor and it had been amazing really that the other Timelord had even bothered to reply. But it was obvious now he was looking at two very different ends of a spectrum here.
And his ancestors had written about those rare, mad Timelords, during the period of the war, all giving the same, susinct advise: RUN.
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Seconds later there was a soft creak as a nearby car settled on it's shocks, The Baron having landed squarely in the center of the roof. He waited to see the effect of the thread of energy, for the mad Timelord to fall in half, severed clean. The wait was longer than he would have wanted.
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'Impossible! It's just not possible!' But a thought had come to his mind: one that merged what The Baron knew of Timelords, of Nobility, and genetic experiments.
And his already chilly blood froze in his veins.
Willing the flow of energy from him to diminish wasn't easy, but if he didn't it would start to really slow him down, drain him of strength he would need to either put up either a terrifying fight or simply retreat.
'I can't leave Alba, what if this monster was drawn here by the volume of people at the party?!' Suddenly, the idea that Alba might be in danger blinded Byron to any other outcome but battle. Glancing down the street to where the carriage waited, Byron smiled tightly and left out a high, impossibly high whistle that at once set the steeds galloping in his direction ( ... )
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But the power had filled him, however temporarily. It made him stronger than he had been in a long time.
And the little vampire was running at him with a sword.
Growling, the Master dropped his arms to his sides and let the energy spark between the fingers of his hand. It would be a waste, but this, too, would feel good.
Time subdivided itself. Subdivided itself again. The Master stepped out of the way of the sword, dancing around his attacker.
"You're nothing," he said as he did so, goading him. "You're insignificant. The diluted vestige of a mighty species long since brought to its knees and snuffed out. You think you could stop me. You think you could stand in the way of anything I wanted to do. You're wrong."
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'Timelord, right, even without a ship they can manipulate time in small areas.' But if he could get him to use up the energy he had absorbed in bursts as large as that one, he still had a chance. Whatever the monster's bizarre biology, he'd reveal his weaknesses the longer they fought, much like Alice had ( ... )
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He laughed, his voice seeming to echo around the alley. It felt so good; he'd missed the power, missed being more than a shadow hanging about back streets and dumpsters. The drums liked it too. They liked it more than they would have liked the dancing. Oh, yes.
He jumped again, this time up to the roof of the karaoke bar, looking down at the creature that was trying, oh so very hard, to hurt him.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked in a wheedle. "You attacked me! I wasn't doing anything. Do you remember? Can you wrap your small mind around that? You're the aggressor. You're doing this. I'm just defending myself."
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