(no subject)
COMM: muse_shuffle - I wouldn't come back if I'd have been Jesus // I'm the kinda guy who leaves the scene of the crime
VERSE: canon
WORD COUNT: 615
The holding cell he had been put into was one of the least appealing he had been in for a long time. That wasn't to say he enjoyed being imprisoned, but it was a means of brief entertainment; through it he had begun to create a list of planets where he would enjoy being locked away and ones where he would not. Earth ranked high on his list - for all the drawbacks and annoying features humanity tended to have, they always managed to treat him properly while they kept him.
This planet had already made its impression. It was new to him, it was somewhere he had yet to visit. The language was foreign to his ears, and he purposely kept his TARDIS from translating. He had a new language to absorb, to assimilate, and he had all the joys of being completely and utterly perplexed at what people were saying to experience. Such an opportunity was rare, and he was hesitant to let it slip through his fingers due to his own TARDIS's interference.
Already snippets of conversation were unmangling themselves; the garbled, guttural language began to flow into something more lyrical, more pleasing to anyone who listened. The local 'police' force were discussing means of interrogation. His interrogation, he assumed, due to their quick glances his way. The Master smiled whenever he was sure they were looking - he attempted to keep up the air of being some unknown element in their city.
For a moment, he wished he had been granted a moment to wash up; he still had smeared green blood on his face and clothes. The person whom he had chosen to kill to garner quick attention with little planning or hassle sprayed blood as if he were a geyser. Like most humanoids - (a term he loathed, most species were Gallifreyan-like, not human-like) - the man was easily dispatched by the slashing of the neck. Far too messy, though, he wouldn't do it again.
The officers entered his cell and began questioning him, but he remained relaxed and unmoving. He could read the rising level of agitation in them both, frustration that was most likely stemming from the fact they apparently had a suspect who couldn't understand a single word they said. But the Master listened, and he let his mind continue to solve the words and their meanings. He would be taken to court soon - they rarely had crimes, thus there was little need for lengthy waiting times.
A lawyer, or the planet's equivalent, would be appointed to him. This was easy enough to understand, and he let just a flicker of understanding through via the precise tilting of his head. Their reaction was to question him again, with more fervor, as if in a handful of seconds he had gained the capacity to speak and comprehend. The Master lapsed back into unmoving silence and waited for them to leave.
A few minute's frustration was enough to prompt them to leave, and the Master allowed himself to relax on the bench, to lean back and allow the heat of the wall soak into him. Already he began to plan how he would react to the lawyer, how he would hold himself in court and what, precisely, he would do.
Regardless of whatever way it went, they hadn't removed all the weapons on his person - he would speak his piece, then lay waste to the unfortunate lot who had been brought in to serve as jury and anyone else who was about. After that, he would leave and not return. Nothing had managed to catch his attention, and he didn't want to spend time on a planet that held little to no interest.
VERSE: canon
WORD COUNT: 615
The holding cell he had been put into was one of the least appealing he had been in for a long time. That wasn't to say he enjoyed being imprisoned, but it was a means of brief entertainment; through it he had begun to create a list of planets where he would enjoy being locked away and ones where he would not. Earth ranked high on his list - for all the drawbacks and annoying features humanity tended to have, they always managed to treat him properly while they kept him.
This planet had already made its impression. It was new to him, it was somewhere he had yet to visit. The language was foreign to his ears, and he purposely kept his TARDIS from translating. He had a new language to absorb, to assimilate, and he had all the joys of being completely and utterly perplexed at what people were saying to experience. Such an opportunity was rare, and he was hesitant to let it slip through his fingers due to his own TARDIS's interference.
Already snippets of conversation were unmangling themselves; the garbled, guttural language began to flow into something more lyrical, more pleasing to anyone who listened. The local 'police' force were discussing means of interrogation. His interrogation, he assumed, due to their quick glances his way. The Master smiled whenever he was sure they were looking - he attempted to keep up the air of being some unknown element in their city.
For a moment, he wished he had been granted a moment to wash up; he still had smeared green blood on his face and clothes. The person whom he had chosen to kill to garner quick attention with little planning or hassle sprayed blood as if he were a geyser. Like most humanoids - (a term he loathed, most species were Gallifreyan-like, not human-like) - the man was easily dispatched by the slashing of the neck. Far too messy, though, he wouldn't do it again.
The officers entered his cell and began questioning him, but he remained relaxed and unmoving. He could read the rising level of agitation in them both, frustration that was most likely stemming from the fact they apparently had a suspect who couldn't understand a single word they said. But the Master listened, and he let his mind continue to solve the words and their meanings. He would be taken to court soon - they rarely had crimes, thus there was little need for lengthy waiting times.
A lawyer, or the planet's equivalent, would be appointed to him. This was easy enough to understand, and he let just a flicker of understanding through via the precise tilting of his head. Their reaction was to question him again, with more fervor, as if in a handful of seconds he had gained the capacity to speak and comprehend. The Master lapsed back into unmoving silence and waited for them to leave.
A few minute's frustration was enough to prompt them to leave, and the Master allowed himself to relax on the bench, to lean back and allow the heat of the wall soak into him. Already he began to plan how he would react to the lawyer, how he would hold himself in court and what, precisely, he would do.
Regardless of whatever way it went, they hadn't removed all the weapons on his person - he would speak his piece, then lay waste to the unfortunate lot who had been brought in to serve as jury and anyone else who was about. After that, he would leave and not return. Nothing had managed to catch his attention, and he didn't want to spend time on a planet that held little to no interest.