x01 [holo]

[beholdthedrums]

With a slightly shaky arrival, the Master stumbles down the ramp, deep thought creasing over his face. This was certainly not the Valiant; he knew every corner of that ship. He pats himself down, specifically checking around his upper chest and glancing over it in surprise after his hands come up clean: no bullet wound, but dried blood within the

Comments

[who_never_would]

Running is something the Doctor does incredibly well, what with an advanced respiratory system and those rather long legs. Keeping up with the slightly shorter Master is no object to him, so when the other Time Lord comes screeching to a halt, it takes all of the tread on the bottom of the Doctor's Chuck Taylors to keep him from outright colliding with his prey. Strangely enough, they've come pelting into a part of the city the Doctor's not that familiar with, though he does know that the way the Master is heading dead ends into another alleyway much like the one they're standing in. He settles back onto his heels, tucking his hands into his pockets as the Master rails at him, just out of arm's reach.

"Oh, but you do," the Doctor's voice is a low, wicked growl. His words are drawn out, spoken slowly, like someone addressing a particularly dense child. "You, the universe, this place. All need me." Black eyes glittering, he draws a little closer, though not quite close enough to invade the Master's space. "You'd destroy a billion worlds, and then what? Hn? What would you do. You'd act out, throw your little fit, annihilate billions upon trillions of innocent people and all for what!?" Suddenly the Doctor is shouting again, and the sheer force of volume behind his voice causes birds to shoot skywards from their perches. His words bounce off the bricks and the alleyways before the area is returned to silence. "All for what, Master? Just so you can say you could? How... petty. How very juvenile. A superb genius of a mind and all you can do with it is threaten to kill people and burn planets. Oh, you do need me, you'd get bored without me. Without someone chasing after your heels wiping the tears and the spit-up of every civilization you've tortured."

A chilling smile creeps its way onto his lips, and he circles the Master slowly - quite the role reversal, shoes raising a small puff of dust every time they slap against the limestone brick below their feet. "Fantastic? Fantastic doesn't even begin to cover it, doesn't describe the sheer amount of power that comes with directing a sun to snuff its light. It's simple, a little tweak of the core there, I didn't burn worlds, Master, I just let them freeze to death. Seemed more fitting. I say the world will end in ice and all. Of course, if I hadn't put out Maeschulemaith XII, half of its resident galaxy would have gone up in flames from the star's eventual nova - call it preventive maintenance, I suppose?"

[beholdthedrums]

The Doctor doesn't know him. The Master had proven that wrong before, after all. He'd do it again, in any way possible, just to make his point. How could the he ever even think he knew him? No. The Doctor was only trying to make himself feel better.

This was something he forced himself to believe. Took the words into a corner of his mind and let the drumming shape them into a new concept.

Something changes, then, because now he's starting to really see the Doctor. Almost accept it. The Master makes sure to never allow the Doctor to get behind him, stepping around slowly so that he's always facing him. All his anger seems to suddenly leave him with a snap that breaks his tension. He claps his hands together, a strange, intangible delight veiling him. What a better day this was becoming!

The Master, now absolutely giddy in contrast to the Doctor, darts forward as if the motion would help push his pleasure through the Doctor's pores. "This!" he exclaims, gesturing to the space around the other, "the things that you can be capable of, Doctor! Why do you hide it? Unless in four hundred and some odd years you've learned otherwise."

With only one confrontation in Taxon, the Master couldn't be sure. How did the Doctor act around other people? In daily life? Did he force a mask over himself and bottle up his true being so everyone saw him as a goodie-two-shoes? No, no, no... that wouldn't do. That wouldn't work.

"Come on, Doctor. The things you can do with all this anger and power flowing out of you! Don't you see? It's what the universe wants. It drags me back, here of all places, after I should very well be dead. It's pushing us together again and again..." He lowers his arms and they rest motionlessly at his sides. He still looks absolutely pleasant, but he's calmed slightly. "This is the way things should be."

He shifts again; straighter, an air of significance taking over. He welcomes the drumming. He welcomes their plots, their madness. It's all so fitting right now.

A challenge creeps into his voice, "You say that people fear you. I dare you to prove it, Doctor. Because I bet this city hardly has any fear of you, and oh, maybe they should." This destructive side... he wants to see it so much it aches. He only wishes that if he could truly make it happen, that all the Doctor's former companions could be here to watch. Wouldn't that be a show.

1/2

[who_never_would]

Suspicion immediately flickers into the Doctor's eyes, and the Master's sudden movement causes him to flinch a bit - just an bit. He slides one foot back, the rest of his body following the motion to get some distance between himself and the suddenly cheerful man in front of him. There's fear radiating from the Doctor, as the situation has changed in a manner he had not quite foreseen. It bothers him - he knows the Master is capable of abrupt mood shifts just as he is, but this is entirely unexpected. He smothers that trepidation, grinning a manic little grin back at the other Time Lord. This is something he can deal with. Adaptation is his strength, he reminds himself, the concept of changing to fit the situation. Terror simmers underneath the surface of that bravado, but he shoves it back - that inexorable terror that's past intellectual comprehension. He's becoming something, something he shouldn't be... No. He has to protect the people of this city, no matter what the cost, no matter how high the price. Even if it means he gives into all that secret blackness at his center...? What if he likes it? He does like it, that's just the problem...

"I'm capable of anything," murmurs the Doctor, keeping close tabs on the Master's movement following it with his eyes. "Anything and everything. People do fear me, Master, but not because I create these grand spectacles of destruction and sheer power for the sake of creating. That gets too predictable after awhile. They're afraid of me, but because they don't know what I'm capable of. One minute, the Doctor, the poor, poor Doctor who just wants to make everything better, who needs people to need him, who wants nothing but peace and then...?" And he leaves that thought trailing off into open space between them, like heady smoke in the sunlight.

Edging forward tentatively into the Master's space, meeting his eyes, the Doctor studies him with that particularly alien look, black-eyed and nigh empty. Like someone studying a strange, undiscovered species of bug, actually. Then, something changes and just the tiniest amount of wonder shines through. The Doctor reaches out, brushing his fingertips across the ridge of the Master's left cheekbone. "You're real," is all he says. There's an unguarded flicker of telepathic communication at that spare touch, a flash of profound loneliness following as an undercurrent to two words.

I need... There's a little something of the younger Doctor, the Doctor the Master knew once as a young boy named Theta. Vulnerability. Fear. Even though the thought trails off, the intention is clear. You. Your help. This is the way things should be. It's the same old game, 'round and 'round again, and perhaps the Master doesn't need the Doctor, but the Doctor needs him. He opens his mouth to speak, and everything balks at the idea of this, of showing the Master exactly what he wants to do, of explaining everything... and this is madness, but if there's one mind, one person in all of Taxon who can keep up with him, who can think with him rather than being dragged along with simple explanations, it's this man.

"This place," he says, quickly changing tack. The change of demeanor helps him keep his head on straight. He hopes. "This place is run by computers, so far as we can tell. Everything, right down to the tracking of people, making food, anything. Everyone knows where everyone is at any time they like." The Doctor's mind is working quickly. "Aside from one glitch where the sky turned into code - daft I know, some sort of error - I've been completely unable to access any of the base code of this place. There's been no reaction though. I've been in places where if you tampered with the computers or the code, or even tried, there'd be all sorts of bells, alarms, whistles, angry guards, name it, there'd be a reaction. No reaction. Not here, not in all of the time I've been here."

The Doctor paces away from the Master, brain working at full tilt now.

2/2 [rofl, hit the character limit]

[who_never_would]

"There's got to be someway to get a reaction from the city. Something huge. Something massively destructive. Somehow, there's got to be a way to trigger the city's defenses. I'm sure it's got some kind of mainframe like that, and if there's a way to trigger it, one way or another, that brings these people - and you a bit closer to leaving." He turns back towards the Master, looking at him with bright, intelligent eyes. "And if there's one being in this city capable of mass, wide-scale destruction, it's you."

No moral prattling now. None of this necessity for peace. The Doctor is not attempting to convert the Master, not attempting to show him a better way. There's no need for that, there's not really even a chance of succeeding at that. Brute forcing the man's will has never worked in the past, why would it work now? The Doctor takes a deep breath, and looks at the Master, really looks at him, waiting rebuttal, awaiting mockery, because that is how this man works. Even when something makes sense.

"I've had time to think," says the Doctor, drawing closer. His voice is soft, cautious. He's not sure if this is the right approach to be taking, but it's the only one he's got. "Ever since I left Earth for good, there's only been one question in my head. Why. I've spent my entire life defending, protecting, throwing myself at impossible causes. Meddling in the ways of other species lives, trying to make sure everyone lives... and all I could think of, all those years in the darkness, staring into the end of time was why."

The Doctor meets the Master's eyes, pained.

"I don't have an answer anymore. I could rationalize all I wanted, but when it came down to it, there really wasn't a reason. Not one I can remember now..."

The Doctor does like to talk. He thinks the Master is bad? Look into a mirror! XD

[beholdthedrums]

This, perhaps, is winning. Not dying - that simply started the ball’s motion - but this. The brush of the Doctor’s mind is slightly unnerving, but then, if the other was trying to butt in and find anything, he’d be met with many harsh, well-made barricades. The Master takes no chance; the only thing the Doctor may catch is a faint rumble of the drumming, yet even those are firmly cemented to the Master himself. He does not jerk away at the thoughts he catches - Theta and Koschei, mirror images, so much the same, so… - they’re dead now, that was a long time ago - and only watches the Doctor.

His help, yes! Yes, that was exactly what the Master wants to hear! Keep going, Doctor. Keep going into that darkness that has made its residence in your eyes - he recognizes the thrill now. It’s priceless and amazing and the Doctor is clueless to how much the Master’s mind is rolling through it. Such victory, starting with a death at the hands of Lucy onboard the Valiant to resurrecting in the City of Taxon to this older Doctor, to this Doctor that has finally learned something of use.

He grasps to the Doctor’s next words, following them with no problem. This was worth listening to, every bit. Wide-scale destruction? Always made a good stress reliever. Take a shot at a country in the morning during the Year always, always made up for the stupidity he had to deal with daily. Maybe an afternoon shot, with the tea, then charmingly swipe up the ship’s comm. and announce the new death count to everyone! Such a shame it had to end…

But this? This was fascinating. Perhaps he didn’t need the Toclafane to do his dirty works; perhaps all he needed was a fine and willing Doctor to make it happen. The perfect tool, almost. His eyes narrow at the other’s pained look. Do not grow soft on him, Doctor. That doesn’t do this plan any good, not unless the Master feels like breaking him himself. Guilt does not fit in right now.

“It’s pointless, that’s why,” he snaps. “‘Why’ even bother rationalizing? Don’t bloody make excuses for things, Doctor - they’re so ill-suited. Your life is built on them. You can’t find an answer because there is no real one.” And that is all the ‘mockery’ the Doctor gets. More would only sink him back into that depressive pile of worthlessness, which is not what the Master wanted currently. It’s such a downer causing destruction when there’s someone wallowing in sadness nearby, and not even because of his actions.

No, he needs the intelligence of the other to make this work; the Doctor knows this city, has been in it for quite some time. It’s knowledge that the Master hasn’t even had the time to begin to accumulate, but give the chance and he’ll have what he needs about the place and its poor, trapped people. And if he can keep this side of the Doctor, then he will still have his use, too. He’s certainly not about to let it go now that he’s seen it.

“You mentioned that the ‘hatches’ could likely create explosives,” he comments idly, subtly observing body movements, despite keeping his eyes locked to the Doctor’s own. “That would seem the place to start, would it not?” Although, destruction and possible chaos temporarily aside, he would like to ‘settle in’ to the city a bit first. Discover the way of things for himself.

The Master won’t be alone in the destruction, however. Oh no, if the Doctor thinks he’ll just point a finger where he wants to Master to set the charges, then he has another thing coming. No, the Doctor will be there, too! So that the Master can watch him enjoy it. So that he can be sure to smother out any of the other Time Lord’s doubts the instant that he sees them, and then make the fires climb higher.

Because that is how one feels and hears passed silence.

That is how one works with the drumming.

Doctor Latifa. Roxy Master? ... Master in a glittery red dress, wtf self.

[who_never_would]

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor walks away from the Master, needing distance, needing that bit of space to formulate his thoughts correctly. The Master's words sink into him, deep, deep down into the quiet, dark doubts in the back of his head. "You're..." and the word halts on his tongue, because it's an admission he's never made. The things the Master says make sense, in a terrible, horrible way, they make such utter and perfect sense, and he'd been daft not to see it before. "Right. You're completely right." There's no sadness, just careful, cold consideration. "When in reality all I'm doing is..." and now the Doctor's really starting to lose it, that familiar lump is rising in his throat, and tears sting fiercely at the corners of his eyes. What is it about this man that drives him to such extremes? He fights that impulse down, glad his back is to the Master at the moment, though the faintest quiver of his shoulders betrays his momentary weakness. "All I'm doing is screaming into the dark like some kind of kid. Trying to change a universe that doesn't, and has never wanted to change. People don't want to be made better - they just want to live complacent, dumb, deaf and blind in their own little worlds, content just enough to survive but never to live. It's petty and small and stupid and so very shortsighted. They'll never see the things we see, and what's the point, in the end? We show them the cosmos and they go back to killing each other, go back to waging pointless war after war."

Then the Doctor whirls around to face the Master, eyes bright, glittering with triumph, the realization made, the connections woven together. "You're right," he repeats. Give him a minute, he'll calm down.

"The hatches do create explosives. Any kind you want. Good grief, if we checked the database from the TARDIS I'm sure we could come up with something far more potent than C4, though, I think it'd be fairly amusing to broadcast a C4, over and over and over again and then blow something up." The Doctor giggles. Honestly, giggles. There's a mad, brilliant light in his expression, especially his eyes, and he just grins at the Master.

Snake in a red dress!

[beholdthedrums]

Centuries the Master has been waiting for this. Centuries. He tossed around the bundle of thoughts in his mind, twirled them about and wondered if it was worth the wait. He wasn't even going to kid himself with the answer, it was so blindingly easy, so unavoidable. Waiting for this? Completely worth it. He knew that one day... one day... this was meant to happen. He sometimes forgot about it, sometimes stopped caring, but he always knew there was a darkness to the Doctor that his younger regenerations wished to ignore.

"You're right."

So much he feels from two words.

Maybe he won't shoot Lucy the next time he sees her. Maybe he'll sweep her into his arms and give her the kiss of all kisses. He can feel the universe in his grasp now, so close. "You can't save people who don't want to be saved," he hums his reply, bubbling openly with energy. Their change in conversation was like a whiplash effect, and he was rather surprised they even made it to this point. Right here, right now, was the rarest of opportunities.

And oh good, the TARDIS was here. Not that the old girl would be very happy to have contact with him, although he was curious regarding how she put up with this different Doctor. It wasn't as if she could change pilots; her options were a bit limited.

He almost returns the Doctor's grin, but no, he isn't exactly prepared for that. There was the slightest of possibilities that he had to tread carefully around the Doctor... While he doubted this change could be some sort of trick (it wasn't in the Doctor's style to lie, or even be able to hide the fact), he was not about to walk into something that would destroy all his power all over again. He wasn't looking to die again anytime soon.

There is still a flow of energy about him, however, and he idly taps his pointer and middle fingers against his sides, raising a brow to the Doctor. "Then I suggest you get started on that, Doctor. I have a city to check out."