(Untitled)

[raidingurarkz]

Who: Indiana Jones (open!)
What: WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?
Where: Da Base

Ok, this wasn't strange. It wasn't strange at all. He was only on some sort of military base, being told by strange people in strange uniforms that he was fictional. This had to be some sort of Nazi psychological warfare. Had to be. Still, he'd managed to punch out the guards

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[drumstowar]

The Master, decked out in seasonally-appropriate tennis gear, was coming from the other direction, swinging a racket like a Scotsman swung a claymore. He'd had a hard time breaking into politics on the base ("This is not a democracy, Mr. Master," the general had told him -- to which the Master had replied, "It's hardly a democracy anywhere else, Mr. Military Man.") and while he waited for plans for his Doomsday Device to arrive, he had been participating in two to three rounds of doubles per week.

His doubles partners were reluctant volunteers. Who knew that the threat of a laser screwdriver could cripple a game like that?

Humming the theme to "Blue Peter", the Master passed the dusty fellow in the hall on the way to the courts. He rounded on a shiny rubber heel and passed a hand across the bridge of his nose.

"WhoooOoOeee!" he crowed, "you smell like the Pit of the Tyrellian Stink Boggle on Aecthellion Five!" A beat. "Terrible B.O., although his wife is lovely."

[raidingurarkz]

Indiana rounded on the tennis racket swinging man with a glare, "You don't exactly smell like a garden of roses yourself, mister."

Wait. He was English. What was an English-man doing here? He frowned, examining the Master carefully. "Who are you, anyway? What's going on around here? I should be in Egypt."

[drumstowar]

"Yes, of course you should," the Master said with a disdainful sniff, "and I should be serving into the net with Miss Kournikova, but --" he sang this next bit -- "into every life." The racket swung over his shoulder. He beamed.

"Egypt, eh? What were you doing in Eeeeegypt? Hunting mummies?"

[raidingurarkz]

OK. Make that a crazy English-man. "I should be hunting down the Ark of the Covenant before the Nazis do! If they get their hands on it..."

He turned away with a growl, "I don't have time for this."

[drumstowar]

"Ark of the Covenant --" the Master pushed his chin toward the ceiling "-- oh yes." He turned his bright, sparkling eyes toward the other man's retreating back. "You mean the hard copy, right? Not the digital version they keep in the Galacton Archives?" He tapped his chin. "Oh yes, I know where they keep that particular piece of history."