1. [Holo] | Caught between stations - Butterfingers - I'm losing my patience
As the broadcast begins, the Master has taken his LazLabs ring off and is engaged in turning it over and over, checking it for any damage or telltale marks. Although it seems clear that his resurrection did not go according to plan, he'd very much like to work out how it did happen- and, of course, who performed it
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"You came back," she breathed, "I knew you'd come back. You have too much to do. Too many lives left to live. Too many people to destroy."
She clapped her hands like an excited child. The city needed a Master.
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Not that it much matters what she says; he's fooled the public before, and right under the Doctor's nose. Even with pests like Vivien Rook snooping about.
"Do I know you?" he asks.
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“Oh, yes. We’re friends. Or we will be, when you find me.” Matters like time didn’t matter to him, oh no.
"You're the Mister Master," she crooned. And, because Drusilla was cleverer than she looked, she engaged the privacy function before she replied to him. Daddy would be cross if he found out about this renewed acquaintance.
"You visited us before, just for a little. You made the other one ... the broken Doctor ... dance. A puppet on a string, he was. We didn't finish the party."
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The name she's given him, though, nearly makes him cringe. It reminds him too much of the Toclafane, and their cloying dependence upon him. It made them useful, loyal servants to the last-- but he can't deny he wanted to bat quite a few of them out of the air some days. Did so, actually, although he was discreet about it.
"And where is the broken Doctor now?" Perhaps if Tara won't tell him anything, this creature will.
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"Gone," she said, truthfully. "They took him away and sent the wrong one back."
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"The wrong one." The Master takes a moment to rub his temples with the fingertips of one hand, as if a sudden headache has come on. They are all the Doctor, even if some regenerations are more palatable than others.
"And what's this one like?"
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"Pretty," she replied, thoughtfully, "But she's too young. She doesn't hold as many secrets."
She'd been in the other Doctor's head. She knew bits and pieces about the Time War and savoured every scrap of knowledge.
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"The Doctor's suddenly female, then, is he? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
He can't help but sound skeptical, because he is. The Doctor couldn't possibly be reduced to a girl; there isn't any accounting in the Master's universe for such a betrayal.
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"Yes."
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"This 'party'," he says, still watching her closely if half-distracted. "Tell me all about the wonderful things we did. Who else was invited?"
It was never just involving the Doctor, after all. Humans always seemed to get in the way.
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The memories made her eyes glow and her silent heart tremble in her chest. Her chip had prevented her from taking on an active role, but that didn't matter now. The Master had given her Extras to direct at the prisoners. He'd thought of everything and she was still grateful to him for it.
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"Mmm. Forgive me, but I don't think I quite caught your name."
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Drusilla, on the other hand, could imagine nothing sweeter.
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"You know, I do believe we'll throw another party very soon," he murmurs. "Don't suppose you kept an old guest list around, did you?" It's an offhand request, and the Master isn't really expecting her to have been that careless, but perhaps it will prompt her to give him all of the names he needs.
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"In my head," she said, tapping her temple. Then: "Some of them have come and gone."
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"I'm going to need all of those names," he tells her. "Each and every one."
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