It would be hell for me, imprisoned here forever, with you.
[When the Tele switches on all across the island like many times before in months past, there is an older gentleman, who almost no one will recognize, peering into the screen with a squint. Even gleaming his eyes are tired and - how is it even possible to look so dull when they are so bright? It seems like he's waiting for something. Like he has been a long time. The bags under his eyes are heavy, his face more wrinkled than it ever was.
There seems to be music playing in the background but it can barely be heard over the repetitive thud of drums pounding in a set of four. It isn't loud. In fact, it almost seems calming at first, starting out slow, hypnotic.
Four beats. Rest. Four beats. Rest. Four beats. Rest.
Whatever he was waiting for seems to have happened because an unpleasant scowl stretches across his face.]
Ah, our guests have finally tuned in. It is about time. Annoying little pests. Pay attention. I don't like to repeat myself.
[There's a clatter off video and he glances sideways before twisting back to fix the camera with a half-cocked smile, grim and just as unpleasant as the scowl.]
All right, maybe I do, but that is not the point we are addressing right now.
I know you won't bother coming in. And why would you? There is nothing worth your time here. Worth anyone's time. Just keep going about your pathetic miserable lives. You're not wanted here. Needed, oh yes, very likely, but that changes nothing.
This is how it was always going to end. Old and alone. Hundreds of years of plans, of outsmarting and charming and creating, all the millions of lives we destroyed, and for what? A pencil pushing job, trapped on a miserable little island? TRAPPED. US? Just like old times. Foiled by an insignificant little race of nobodies. All that genius. All that BRILLIANCE. WHERE HAS IT GOTTEN US NOW?
[His voice had grown steadily louder, his face closer until he had to pull away, coughing and taking in shaky breaths. He looks so frail.]
The Universe should have been mine. My destiny, greater than all your lives combined. What a joke.
[He scoffs, a bitter, cruel laughter ringing and echoing, and now the world around him comes into focus, flashing red and green lights and a beacon just audible over the drumming, like the emergency distress signal of a dying vessel. Wires hang from walls of metal, sparks raining down over what can be seen of the wrecked metal around him.
He twists the camera until 'Thomas' is in view. Police uniform still on, though singed and in tatters. He's not even restrained, just holding his head, hunched over, trying to block out the noise. Whatever he keeps saying, it isn't making it over the noise. The older gentleman has the Police Chief's hat resting on top of his head.]
Destiny. [He snorts again, rolling his eyes, drumming on the surface with the confiscated screwdriver, in perfect time with the background drumming.]
Delusions. Nothing more. Betrayed by everyone and everything and isn't it just what we deserved? Death and destruction on a whim. Lives lost, civilizations ended, bodies stolen. The list of atrocities could fill a Tardis. He deserves to die. You're thinking it. I know you are. [The last bit directed at the viewers with a waggled finger. He stops, coughing and drinking in oxygen in more shaky breaths. There's blood all over his hands when he brings them to point at the camera]
Who do we get to blame this time. Not ourselves. Never us. What could we do wrong? Every plan we ever made and when did that ever go well. Not anymore. We'll just rule this little space of darkness for all eternity. Wait for death to come. Soon now. So soon. I can feel her. The universe will not bring us back from this.
[He laughs, hoarse and manic.]
This is true destiny. A tool like any other tool. Throw it away when you're done with it to rot and rust in oblivion until the end of time.
GO AWAY. ALL OF YOU.
No need to come and play this time. We've got all the company we've ever had. The only people we'll ever need. Because we don't need anyone, do we? DO WE? [He snarls, twisting to direct it at the Master's hunched form and it ends abruptly.]