A tour of the cages [fic]
Title: A tour of the cages
Author: shadowbyrd
Rating: R (hints of non-con)
Pairing: Master/Toshiko, Master/Lucy
Word Count: 1716
Summary: Pets - either you need to put them down because they attempt to murder you, or they keep trying to escape.
The Master had found, over the centuries, that there really was nothing quite like the sense of satisfaction and, not to be coy about it, downright smugness that came with having successfully taken over a planet. The only thing that came even close was actually destroying one. It was more interesting to take them over; then there were peoples to repress (or enslave, as the mood took you), democratic governments to topple, dictators to lead up the garden path and throw out of a moving aircraft.
Of course, on Earth, there was the added bonus of the Doctor - the youthful, decrepit, senile Doctor - there to see his pet planet fall. To him. And all the while, he could only stand and watch. It might just have been the happiest day of the Master’s life.
There were actually quite a few downsides to ruling the world; realising that the incompetent idiot of a pilot you had just thrown into the Atlantic Ocean was in fact ranked one of UNIT’s best, for example. Fortunately most of this could be delegated, or else solved by hurling some random unimportant admin person in after him. There was just something about the fading scream and the suddenly loose papers flapping slowly to ground that cheered him up no end.
Then of course, there were his pets. Very important. On a planet where you were the ruler, there wasn’t much in the way of spontaneity. No uncertainty, nothing to keep you guessing.
He didn’t really think of the Jones family as pets. He enjoyed tormenting and abusing them, certainly, but it wasn’t what they were really there for. Any pain he caused them was meant for their dear little Martha, the one who vanished when he wasn’t looking and workers still whispered about every now and then. They were there to take her place, but even with three of them jammed in they didn’t quite fill the gap.
Lucy wasn’t quite a pet either; she was meant to have been a queen for him. An equal to scheme and share (though not too much) in the spoils. But she’d always been such a delicate thing, Lucy. There were cracks in the porcelain long before he took her to end of the universe, offering her a ring while they watched the last lights die out. She had never been an equal so much as she’d been a pretty little dolly to pose with, and kiss and take to bed and leave on the floor when he’d finished. Though he’d long since given up on her as an equal (and she only just cut it as a plant that everyone had forgotten to water) he still punished her for her failings. After all, if she was already a bit battered, there was no point in being gentle with her, was there?
He had his best fun with the Doctor - a pet through and through, with the honour of his own water bowl - and the Captain. He didn’t need to actually hurt either of them to see them squirm. Still, he couldn’t help himself sometimes when it came to the freak chained up in the bowels of the Valiant. He was like a kid with a light switch, watching it flash on and off and every time the thing wailed and screamed like the pain was brand new and he had never felt anything like it, like it was the only death he would ever have. The Master never ceased to be captivated by it.
But sometimes all it took was a reminder of just how much they had lost, of the fact that they had lost this forever. And by Rassilon, he was never going to get tired of rubbing the Doctor’s face in it.
The thing was, his pets, they were all unique in a way; the Doctor, the only other Time Lord in existence, his pet (companion, whatever he liked to call them) the freak of time, fixed and unchanging while the universe spun ceaselessly in flux around him. Even Lucy was a one off; no one else on the in world had quite her flavour of insanity.
And then, there was Toshiko.
It had been almost disappointing how little time it had taken to round up Torchwood Three, though the Toclafane hadn’t seen fit to bring them all in alive. They so delighted in cutting apart those who dared to try and shoot them down and apparently the good Dr Harper just wouldn’t put down his gun. They did, however, manage to deliver Gwen Cooper, Ianto Jones and Toshiko Sato bruised and only a little bloodied but alive and with just enough spirit for him have some real fun with.
After their first few failed escape attempts, and after being chained up in the basement to see what depths their illustrious leader had sunk to, they started to comply with him. He always needed more servants; another maid for when the Joneses needed to locked up and punished, someone to fetch him tea and coffee and look good in a suit.
Unfortunately they all continued their habit of organising escape attempts, and eventually the hassle outweighed the amusement. He had Gwen shot in the back over something relatively trivial, and thrown down into the incinerator while she was still trying to get up on her hands and knees, gurgling on her own blood. When the escapes and takeovers continued and he was brought a cooling cup of tea Ianto Jones got a face full of boiling water.
He didn’t bother having Jack killed or tortured on either day, though he listened with some amusement over the intercom to Jack renewing his vows to violently murder Saxon the first chance that he got.
Toshiko was a curiosity; there was a thirst for knowledge and something like worldliness that was strangely innocent in a way that reminded him of the Doctor. He was reminded of how the Doctor had been when they were young, of all the potential wasted. That she was pretty and, upon arrival, suitably submissive, only made her more attractive.
The murder of her two friends, along with the odd slap to the face or punch to the side turned her grudgingly docile. Not that she had ever been a wild horse, bucking to unseat her rider, but there had still been something like hope in her eyes. That was gone now, and she glided three steps behind him like a little ghost, often hanging her head until he grabbed a fistful of hair and held it up for her.
Sometimes he got bored with Lucy, how she was stupid and wouldn’t do as she was told. He took Toshiko instead, one hand under her chin, forcing her look at him and acknowledge what was happening. She was so very beautiful and, as he told Jack after one particular breakout gone wrong, she at least never woke him up with her crying afterwards.
He put her to work with the task force that were building the fleet and had her update him on the project’s progress. One night over dinner Lucy tentatively pointed out that he had placed Toshiko in such a position where she could purposefully sabotage the fleet and therefore his plans. He smiled at her and stroked her face, because she only meant well. He was unsurprised to find her proved right a few weeks later when, going over the latest plans with Toshiko, he found she had made a few small errors in her calculations. He had considered telling her the consequences she would incur if she tried, but he was glad he didn’t; the look on her face when he had those workers executed was priceless.
As it later turned out, she had never lost that hope of hers. She had just hidden it somewhere where he wouldn’t come across it. It was the closest that they ever came to toppling him; Toshiko and the Doctor knocked out the main security system, Clive Jones managed to get Jack free and together they managed to overcome the fraction of the Master’s personal guard that were on duty in the board room. It took a few well placed psi-mines to quell the rebellion and restore order.
It was obvious that the Doctor had at least played a part in coming up with this plan, though he didn’t own up to it, even when the Master tried to bait him by blaming Toshiko. However, it seemed that she had had a hand in it too, and so she was the one to be officially berated and humiliated.
He didn’t kill her, though. And his apparent mercy came as a surprise. Perhaps exceptions were to be made for his more favoured toys?
But the Master had never been merciful, especially to those closest to him. As Toshiko learnt when he positioned the Valiant over her homeland and reduced the four islands of Japan to ashes floating in the sea.
She cried for hours in an unsightly way he found quite tedious. He still didn’t kill her; she was special now, in a way all his pets were. One of a kind. The last child of Japan. Instead, he had her chained up in the basement to keep Jack company until the Master saw fit to forgive her.
He came down to get her himself three weeks later - and really she should be honoured that he would willingly come anywhere near that freak (alive or dead) for her.
Ironically it was as she became special, a rare specimen, she seemed to loose it; that certain something that she had to begin with that he saw in her the day that she was dragged aboard. These days she was as doll-like and compliant as Lucy. Not quite as pretty though, with her puffy red eyes and her runny nose, wiped off on the sleeves of a threadbare kimono.
He had her re-assigned to the old UNIT base on the ground. Maybe when he had a bit more energy (and inclination) he would pick her up and start again. Work out where he had gone wrong previously and go back to moulding her appropriately. It might be some time, though; he had an invading force to build, and a war to start.
Author: shadowbyrd
Rating: R (hints of non-con)
Pairing: Master/Toshiko, Master/Lucy
Word Count: 1716
Summary: Pets - either you need to put them down because they attempt to murder you, or they keep trying to escape.
The Master had found, over the centuries, that there really was nothing quite like the sense of satisfaction and, not to be coy about it, downright smugness that came with having successfully taken over a planet. The only thing that came even close was actually destroying one. It was more interesting to take them over; then there were peoples to repress (or enslave, as the mood took you), democratic governments to topple, dictators to lead up the garden path and throw out of a moving aircraft.
Of course, on Earth, there was the added bonus of the Doctor - the youthful, decrepit, senile Doctor - there to see his pet planet fall. To him. And all the while, he could only stand and watch. It might just have been the happiest day of the Master’s life.
There were actually quite a few downsides to ruling the world; realising that the incompetent idiot of a pilot you had just thrown into the Atlantic Ocean was in fact ranked one of UNIT’s best, for example. Fortunately most of this could be delegated, or else solved by hurling some random unimportant admin person in after him. There was just something about the fading scream and the suddenly loose papers flapping slowly to ground that cheered him up no end.
Then of course, there were his pets. Very important. On a planet where you were the ruler, there wasn’t much in the way of spontaneity. No uncertainty, nothing to keep you guessing.
He didn’t really think of the Jones family as pets. He enjoyed tormenting and abusing them, certainly, but it wasn’t what they were really there for. Any pain he caused them was meant for their dear little Martha, the one who vanished when he wasn’t looking and workers still whispered about every now and then. They were there to take her place, but even with three of them jammed in they didn’t quite fill the gap.
Lucy wasn’t quite a pet either; she was meant to have been a queen for him. An equal to scheme and share (though not too much) in the spoils. But she’d always been such a delicate thing, Lucy. There were cracks in the porcelain long before he took her to end of the universe, offering her a ring while they watched the last lights die out. She had never been an equal so much as she’d been a pretty little dolly to pose with, and kiss and take to bed and leave on the floor when he’d finished. Though he’d long since given up on her as an equal (and she only just cut it as a plant that everyone had forgotten to water) he still punished her for her failings. After all, if she was already a bit battered, there was no point in being gentle with her, was there?
He had his best fun with the Doctor - a pet through and through, with the honour of his own water bowl - and the Captain. He didn’t need to actually hurt either of them to see them squirm. Still, he couldn’t help himself sometimes when it came to the freak chained up in the bowels of the Valiant. He was like a kid with a light switch, watching it flash on and off and every time the thing wailed and screamed like the pain was brand new and he had never felt anything like it, like it was the only death he would ever have. The Master never ceased to be captivated by it.
But sometimes all it took was a reminder of just how much they had lost, of the fact that they had lost this forever. And by Rassilon, he was never going to get tired of rubbing the Doctor’s face in it.
The thing was, his pets, they were all unique in a way; the Doctor, the only other Time Lord in existence, his pet (companion, whatever he liked to call them) the freak of time, fixed and unchanging while the universe spun ceaselessly in flux around him. Even Lucy was a one off; no one else on the in world had quite her flavour of insanity.
And then, there was Toshiko.
It had been almost disappointing how little time it had taken to round up Torchwood Three, though the Toclafane hadn’t seen fit to bring them all in alive. They so delighted in cutting apart those who dared to try and shoot them down and apparently the good Dr Harper just wouldn’t put down his gun. They did, however, manage to deliver Gwen Cooper, Ianto Jones and Toshiko Sato bruised and only a little bloodied but alive and with just enough spirit for him have some real fun with.
After their first few failed escape attempts, and after being chained up in the basement to see what depths their illustrious leader had sunk to, they started to comply with him. He always needed more servants; another maid for when the Joneses needed to locked up and punished, someone to fetch him tea and coffee and look good in a suit.
Unfortunately they all continued their habit of organising escape attempts, and eventually the hassle outweighed the amusement. He had Gwen shot in the back over something relatively trivial, and thrown down into the incinerator while she was still trying to get up on her hands and knees, gurgling on her own blood. When the escapes and takeovers continued and he was brought a cooling cup of tea Ianto Jones got a face full of boiling water.
He didn’t bother having Jack killed or tortured on either day, though he listened with some amusement over the intercom to Jack renewing his vows to violently murder Saxon the first chance that he got.
Toshiko was a curiosity; there was a thirst for knowledge and something like worldliness that was strangely innocent in a way that reminded him of the Doctor. He was reminded of how the Doctor had been when they were young, of all the potential wasted. That she was pretty and, upon arrival, suitably submissive, only made her more attractive.
The murder of her two friends, along with the odd slap to the face or punch to the side turned her grudgingly docile. Not that she had ever been a wild horse, bucking to unseat her rider, but there had still been something like hope in her eyes. That was gone now, and she glided three steps behind him like a little ghost, often hanging her head until he grabbed a fistful of hair and held it up for her.
Sometimes he got bored with Lucy, how she was stupid and wouldn’t do as she was told. He took Toshiko instead, one hand under her chin, forcing her look at him and acknowledge what was happening. She was so very beautiful and, as he told Jack after one particular breakout gone wrong, she at least never woke him up with her crying afterwards.
He put her to work with the task force that were building the fleet and had her update him on the project’s progress. One night over dinner Lucy tentatively pointed out that he had placed Toshiko in such a position where she could purposefully sabotage the fleet and therefore his plans. He smiled at her and stroked her face, because she only meant well. He was unsurprised to find her proved right a few weeks later when, going over the latest plans with Toshiko, he found she had made a few small errors in her calculations. He had considered telling her the consequences she would incur if she tried, but he was glad he didn’t; the look on her face when he had those workers executed was priceless.
As it later turned out, she had never lost that hope of hers. She had just hidden it somewhere where he wouldn’t come across it. It was the closest that they ever came to toppling him; Toshiko and the Doctor knocked out the main security system, Clive Jones managed to get Jack free and together they managed to overcome the fraction of the Master’s personal guard that were on duty in the board room. It took a few well placed psi-mines to quell the rebellion and restore order.
It was obvious that the Doctor had at least played a part in coming up with this plan, though he didn’t own up to it, even when the Master tried to bait him by blaming Toshiko. However, it seemed that she had had a hand in it too, and so she was the one to be officially berated and humiliated.
He didn’t kill her, though. And his apparent mercy came as a surprise. Perhaps exceptions were to be made for his more favoured toys?
But the Master had never been merciful, especially to those closest to him. As Toshiko learnt when he positioned the Valiant over her homeland and reduced the four islands of Japan to ashes floating in the sea.
She cried for hours in an unsightly way he found quite tedious. He still didn’t kill her; she was special now, in a way all his pets were. One of a kind. The last child of Japan. Instead, he had her chained up in the basement to keep Jack company until the Master saw fit to forgive her.
He came down to get her himself three weeks later - and really she should be honoured that he would willingly come anywhere near that freak (alive or dead) for her.
Ironically it was as she became special, a rare specimen, she seemed to loose it; that certain something that she had to begin with that he saw in her the day that she was dragged aboard. These days she was as doll-like and compliant as Lucy. Not quite as pretty though, with her puffy red eyes and her runny nose, wiped off on the sleeves of a threadbare kimono.
He had her re-assigned to the old UNIT base on the ground. Maybe when he had a bit more energy (and inclination) he would pick her up and start again. Work out where he had gone wrong previously and go back to moulding her appropriately. It might be some time, though; he had an invading force to build, and a war to start.