12 // [Audio]
[The device switches on and the Master can be heard talking to himself some distance away from it, sounding alternately desperate and disgusted and trying to calm himself down, occasionally. His voice raises and lowers in volume, sometimes he mutters so quietly that some of what he says is indiscernible.]
They aren't here. They aren't here and I don't have a reason to fight, no matter what the City seems to think that reason is, I'm not sure but I'm not playing...I'm not--
And the drums! How are they even--there's no way they can control those. They're in my head. They're mine! They can't lay claim to them. I don't even want to lay claim to them. But they...
War is different, how can you have any measure of control, and the Time Lords wouldn't even let me have proper control, the bastards--just endless trying not to die and that's my life, really, in symbolism of war--I suppose the Doctor would call it applicable...
The drums...
...I don't even know that Ushas even...
And they were endless! It was completely ridiculous, they can just churn out more of themselves but what were we supposed to do, maybe loom out a few more warriors, hardly plausible, no, it had to be one Time Lord per every million Daleks and it only gets worse the higher the death toll rises and there was no sense I could make of it; who had the power? Did anyone, really? How did it...
And I had to run, there was no choice, no other...why....my head...nn...
[A sliding noise and a thump. The sound of tapping in time to the drums.]
[ooc: War of the Worlds curse affecting the Master by giving him horrendous Time War flashbacks and increasing the drums, making him more mental than usual, and thus, completely likely to break his cover and join in to the fight. Which sounds kind of backwards but if you give him a reason to fight that isn't, "Hey, wanna go kill some Daleks and suffer major casualties and nearly die yourself?" the drums will be like, "Hey, okay, I sure do feel like killing things!"]
They aren't here. They aren't here and I don't have a reason to fight, no matter what the City seems to think that reason is, I'm not sure but I'm not playing...I'm not--
And the drums! How are they even--there's no way they can control those. They're in my head. They're mine! They can't lay claim to them. I don't even want to lay claim to them. But they...
War is different, how can you have any measure of control, and the Time Lords wouldn't even let me have proper control, the bastards--just endless trying not to die and that's my life, really, in symbolism of war--I suppose the Doctor would call it applicable...
The drums...
...I don't even know that Ushas even...
And they were endless! It was completely ridiculous, they can just churn out more of themselves but what were we supposed to do, maybe loom out a few more warriors, hardly plausible, no, it had to be one Time Lord per every million Daleks and it only gets worse the higher the death toll rises and there was no sense I could make of it; who had the power? Did anyone, really? How did it...
And I had to run, there was no choice, no other...why....my head...nn...
[A sliding noise and a thump. The sound of tapping in time to the drums.]
[ooc: War of the Worlds curse affecting the Master by giving him horrendous Time War flashbacks and increasing the drums, making him more mental than usual, and thus, completely likely to break his cover and join in to the fight. Which sounds kind of backwards but if you give him a reason to fight that isn't, "Hey, wanna go kill some Daleks and suffer major casualties and nearly die yourself?" the drums will be like, "Hey, okay, I sure do feel like killing things!"]