He had been sitting in the corner, drumming the tune that played inside his head incessantly, probably driving his neighbour quite mad (which only encouraged him to do it more). The corner was a nice place to be, mainly because nothing could sneak up on him there (nevermind that he was in a barred cell. There was a bit of paranoia to contend with), and because it provided nice back support-- also, it was somehow more comfortable than the cot.
He stopped tapping when he saw the familiar eyestalk, and though it was unaccompanied by the telltale whirring of Dalek movement (not to mention the fact that it wasn't even lit up), his hearts-- no, heart-- still reacted as though there was a living Dalek around. He closed his eyes, ignoring Rayne for the time being, relaxing, swallowing that reflexive fear, before opening his eyes again. He looked more calm now, collected, despite the messed up hair, the rumpled suit, and the bit of stubble. That Rayne was completely armed didn't escape his notice, but he assumed that given his
( ... )
Rayne had no interest in the other captive. Her reasons for coming here were purely to exact a little mental revenge. She liked seeing her enemies in a position of weakness, of fear. Of downright neglect.
The dhampir had no reason to suspect he was anywhere near willing to repent, of course. She had grown accustomed to his mindset in various journal writings and it was not of the variety which tended to cower easily. Nevertheless, she had seen something not too unlike that, in the moments leading up to her own confrontation and kicking him, quite literally, into extermination.
He had been scared. If there was a cahnce to exploit that, no matter how slightly, then all the better.
His comment, however, set her off and she made for a sudden and animalistic lunge at the bars. Not quite an uncontrolled one, however, for it was followed by a fanged smile. He knew just how painful that immersion into water had been, but Rayne had every reason to let him know, in turn, that her temper would never let it be forgotten
( ... )
When she lunged for the bars, he laughed (despite the terrible urge to flinch)-- loudly and mockingly. For once, captivity had made him feel invincible. This wasn't likely to last, so he'd take advantage of it while he could. The laughter stopped then, abruptly, when she mentioned his smell. He looked at the adjacent wall, staring at it angrily, positively seeing red, before he turned his head sharply and looked past the bars, at the vile red-headed woman.
"It's merely temporary," he hissed, no trace of mirth or sick amusement in his voice now. "A genetic restructuring doesn't change what I am." He smiled, then, in a really ugly way. "Or what I've done to all of you."
This was where the predator beneath her mental surface came out to play. She was just staring now, with not a single blink breaking that green-eyed gaze. At times like these, it could almost be felt, looking, watching, imagining. Just one long period of silence. The woman apparently quite content to just observe, with nought but an occasional tilt of head, here and there.
That retrieved item of Dalek technology starting to move across the bars, in rat-a-tat-tat rhythm. Not that Rayne had any way of knowing it, but something with quite the resemblance to something else he often heard tapping away inside his mind, as if fate, itself, was using her as a tool by which to taunt him
( ... )
He stared in return; however, this newly human body of his necessitated blinking, and so the staring contest was, sadly, short lived. When the rattling started, in that same tormenting rhythm buzzing through his head (which he sometimes considered a blessed message, while at other times just wished for nothing more than silence), the Master tried to ignore it at first, just stare at Rayne defiantly, but as time wore on he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against the wall.
"Stop it."
It was different than when he did it himself. Somehow, that it was her, using a part of them, made it unbearable. Plus, the rhythm didn't quite match up with the one in his head-- it created a sort of dual staccato effect, which was even more maddening than the drums normally were. He brought his hands up to his ears, trying to drown it out, but he couldn't, he could still hear them, always... always
( ... )
The reaction brought a genuine burst of laughter up from throat, precisely because of just how ridiculous this was. The great 'Time Lord', the one they all called 'Master'... In the end, he was just like all the rest of them; a rat, trapped in a maze of his own making.
One carefully-aimed shot ricocheted by his foot, then another by its counterpart.
"Maybe I can be convinced you need an intact pelvis if you put it to use and dance for us, kitten..."
The Master let out a startled cry and did, much to his dismay and annoyance, jump to avoid the bullets that were fired near his feet. This was utterly humiliating, the sort of thing he'd done to his own captives aboard the Valiant. But he was greater than them. Even in this human body, he didn't have the same, quivering human fears, did he? (The answer: yes, he did)
And so, torn between pride and his animalistic drive to survive, the Master stared at her, then slowly began to approach the bars as pride won out. His vanity was always one of his weaknesses, after all, and it was probably going to cost him now. But the Master didn't care; he wasn't going to submit to this woman and degrade himself for her amusement. If she shot him, if she injured him in such a way that it would take months to recover, he would simply...
...reset himself. Knowing that he'd come back, no regenerations lost, no real consequences, gave him an odd feeling of calm. (No, it really didn't)
"No, I don't believe I shall," he responded, bristling at
( ... )
"Aw, poodle... You're gonna' make me cry," she affected with faux tremble of voice, even as the muzzle came close enough to touch, then play with the very tip of his nose.
It was almost tantamount to foreplay for the ego.
Rayne's own, of course.
That was when she made a grab for his collar, pulling him up against those bars like a ripcord on a chainsaw. A violent SHING signifying the extension of the opposing arm's long, hideously sharp blade. The same arm wielding the gun. The same blade Rayne now brought menacingly up to the side of his face, just short of earlobe.
"What do you say, 'Master'...? A little off the sides? Maybe I should make myself one of those necklaces, huh? I'm sure you don't need all your fingers, either..."
He let out a sharp hiss as he found his face suddenly pressed against the bars, hard, then squirmed, struggled fiercely to try to get away, only to go completely still as the blade was held up to his face. He certainly didn't want to make one wrong move and wind up with a knife in his face. At her words, his breathing became shallow, more panicked, and he swallowed, but said nothing for a good long while.
"Don't--" Then he stopped himself, and his expression went from fearful to a snarling mask, as he spit out, "I can-- I will overcome anything you attempt."
"You remind me of Hedrox," mused his tormentor, emphasising it with a digging touch of cold metal against skin. "Every time I killed him, he came back to life... Two of him, for every one I cut down. You know what happened to him? He got in my fucking way. No more Hedrox."
Oh, this one was resiliant, unwilling to surrender, no matter the odds. But by the same token, Rayne was verbally retaliating in kind; telling him that she was just as unlikely to ever stop against those who crossed her path.
And that he was now on it.
But while he braced for the expected slice into flesh, Rayne went one better, spitting her disdain for him in the face, only to fire off that gun, right by his ear. It would, at the very least, give one hell of a deafening headache and prove she was inventive enough to come up with other means to inflict pain, without resorting to punches and kicks
( ... )
It took the Doctor just a few minutes too long to notice the latest note in his pocket regarding the Master, or perhaps the Admiral, in a fit of pique, decided to hold off of alerting him long enough to let the Master have another little punishment on top of the existing ones. Either way, when he ran down the stairs into level zero, he was just a few moments too late.
He stopped for a brief second at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the scene before him, honestly, he hadn't expected this. He'd expected an escape attempt, another attack, perhaps a little more madness or gloating from the Master, but not this. Not seeing him collapsed in his cell, with another warden of all people responsible for it.
The Doctor darted past Rayne to the cell door, one hand already on it before it occurred to him that opening the only thing between the Master and his attacker might not be the best idea right now. He stopped, and gave the dhampir a whithering look, "Get out of here."
The Doctor didn't spend much longer glaring, moving into the cell quickly and kneeling down at the Masters side, taking one of his arms and carefully helping him up,
Really, the Master did deserve this... but if you asked him, he'd completely disagree with that assertion. He'd paid his due-- robbing him of his true self was bad enough... no, it was overkill, and he'd pay the Doctor and the Admiral back for it in due time. And this... forcing him into weakness, making him feel her parasitic mouth clamp onto his throat, phantom teeth tearing into him while his head throbbed in agony from the drums and the ringing from the gun discharging near his head. He did fight back at first, but the more he realised the futility, and the weaker he felt, the less he tried.
And so, he was lying on the floor of the cell, half-conscious and dizzy (and skull pounding RELENTLESSLY), when the Doctor entered. He'd hardly even noticed the cell door open, and he couldn't call forth the energy to get up and run out, or to even insult the Doctor.
Well, that's not true.
"Late again, Doctor," he whispered in an accusatory tone, slumping against his hated enemy only because he couldn't stand by himself, hard as he
The Doctor would have felt guilty, or irritated, or something about the Master provoking him normally, but right now? He was just feeling sort of relieved that the Master was able to speak at all, so he let it go. Carefully helping his inmate towards the stairs.
"Well, not too late. You're alive at least."
The Stairs. Right, this might be tricky. The Doctor gave the Master a sidelong look, trying to decide if it would actually be easier to just carry him up them.
He made a little unimpressed noise, but said nothing more. At the sight of stairs, he returned the Doctor's look in a way that very pointedly said: "No. Do it, and I will make your life even more miserable." With his free hand, he grabbed onto the railing and started up, with effort. It was difficult, and he'd stumbled a few times on the first steps alone, but he didn't want the Doctor's help. He wanted to show how very little he needed his Warden.
He stopped tapping when he saw the familiar eyestalk, and though it was unaccompanied by the telltale whirring of Dalek movement (not to mention the fact that it wasn't even lit up), his hearts-- no, heart-- still reacted as though there was a living Dalek around. He closed his eyes, ignoring Rayne for the time being, relaxing, swallowing that reflexive fear, before opening his eyes again. He looked more calm now, collected, despite the messed up hair, the rumpled suit, and the bit of stubble. That Rayne was completely armed didn't escape his notice, but he assumed that given his ( ... )
Reply
The dhampir had no reason to suspect he was anywhere near willing to repent, of course. She had grown accustomed to his mindset in various journal writings and it was not of the variety which tended to cower easily. Nevertheless, she had seen something not too unlike that, in the moments leading up to her own confrontation and kicking him, quite literally, into extermination.
He had been scared. If there was a cahnce to exploit that, no matter how slightly, then all the better.
His comment, however, set her off and she made for a sudden and animalistic lunge at the bars. Not quite an uncontrolled one, however, for it was followed by a fanged smile. He knew just how painful that immersion into water had been, but Rayne had every reason to let him know, in turn, that her temper would never let it be forgotten ( ... )
Reply
"It's merely temporary," he hissed, no trace of mirth or sick amusement in his voice now. "A genetic restructuring doesn't change what I am." He smiled, then, in a really ugly way. "Or what I've done to all of you."
Reply
This was where the predator beneath her mental surface came out to play. She was just staring now, with not a single blink breaking that green-eyed gaze. At times like these, it could almost be felt, looking, watching, imagining. Just one long period of silence. The woman apparently quite content to just observe, with nought but an occasional tilt of head, here and there.
That retrieved item of Dalek technology starting to move across the bars, in rat-a-tat-tat rhythm. Not that Rayne had any way of knowing it, but something with quite the resemblance to something else he often heard tapping away inside his mind, as if fate, itself, was using her as a tool by which to taunt him ( ... )
Reply
"Stop it."
It was different than when he did it himself. Somehow, that it was her, using a part of them, made it unbearable. Plus, the rhythm didn't quite match up with the one in his head-- it created a sort of dual staccato effect, which was even more maddening than the drums normally were. He brought his hands up to his ears, trying to drown it out, but he couldn't, he could still hear them, always... always ( ... )
Reply
The reaction brought a genuine burst of laughter up from throat, precisely because of just how ridiculous this was. The great 'Time Lord', the one they all called 'Master'... In the end, he was just like all the rest of them; a rat, trapped in a maze of his own making.
One carefully-aimed shot ricocheted by his foot, then another by its counterpart.
"Maybe I can be convinced you need an intact pelvis if you put it to use and dance for us, kitten..."
Reply
And so, torn between pride and his animalistic drive to survive, the Master stared at her, then slowly began to approach the bars as pride won out. His vanity was always one of his weaknesses, after all, and it was probably going to cost him now. But the Master didn't care; he wasn't going to submit to this woman and degrade himself for her amusement. If she shot him, if she injured him in such a way that it would take months to recover, he would simply...
...reset himself. Knowing that he'd come back, no regenerations lost, no real consequences, gave him an odd feeling of calm. (No, it really didn't)
"No, I don't believe I shall," he responded, bristling at ( ... )
Reply
It was almost tantamount to foreplay for the ego.
Rayne's own, of course.
That was when she made a grab for his collar, pulling him up against those bars like a ripcord on a chainsaw. A violent SHING signifying the extension of the opposing arm's long, hideously sharp blade. The same arm wielding the gun. The same blade Rayne now brought menacingly up to the side of his face, just short of earlobe.
"What do you say, 'Master'...? A little off the sides? Maybe I should make myself one of those necklaces, huh? I'm sure you don't need all your fingers, either..."
Reply
"Don't--" Then he stopped himself, and his expression went from fearful to a snarling mask, as he spit out, "I can-- I will overcome anything you attempt."
Reply
Oh, this one was resiliant, unwilling to surrender, no matter the odds. But by the same token, Rayne was verbally retaliating in kind; telling him that she was just as unlikely to ever stop against those who crossed her path.
And that he was now on it.
But while he braced for the expected slice into flesh, Rayne went one better, spitting her disdain for him in the face, only to fire off that gun, right by his ear. It would, at the very least, give one hell of a deafening headache and prove she was inventive enough to come up with other means to inflict pain, without resorting to punches and kicks ( ... )
Reply
He stopped for a brief second at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the scene before him, honestly, he hadn't expected this. He'd expected an escape attempt, another attack, perhaps a little more madness or gloating from the Master, but not this. Not seeing him collapsed in his cell, with another warden of all people responsible for it.
The Doctor darted past Rayne to the cell door, one hand already on it before it occurred to him that opening the only thing between the Master and his attacker might not be the best idea right now. He stopped, and gave the dhampir a whithering look, "Get out of here."
The polite Doctor was not in service today.
Reply
It was a begrudgingly acrid response, at best. Polite Rayne was almost never in service and she barged past him with one shoulder hitting against his.
"I've tasted better," she tossed over shoulder and headed on up the steps, out of sight.
Reply
"Okay, come on, lets get you to the infirmary..."
Reply
And so, he was lying on the floor of the cell, half-conscious and dizzy (and skull pounding RELENTLESSLY), when the Doctor entered. He'd hardly even noticed the cell door open, and he couldn't call forth the energy to get up and run out, or to even insult the Doctor.
Well, that's not true.
"Late again, Doctor," he whispered in an accusatory tone, slumping against his hated enemy only because he couldn't stand by himself, hard as he
Reply
"Well, not too late. You're alive at least."
The Stairs. Right, this might be tricky. The Doctor gave the Master a sidelong look, trying to decide if it would actually be easier to just carry him up them.
Reply
...and how little he needed blood, apparently.
Reply
Leave a comment