(Untitled)

[imjustpretty]

Who: The Master, Ray Kowalski, the 7th Doctor, Neil Howie, Stephanie Brown
What: The Master being extremely angry and killing folks before getting taken out.
Where: The staircase, between levels four and five.
When: Shortly after the Master's arrival on the Barge.
Warnings: VIOLENCE. PEOPLE DYING. The Master being a homicidal psychopath.

Comments

[some_go_mad]

After being told by a wide selection of (possibly real, possibly virtual) individuals, some of whom were nastily familiar, that a) they knew him, personally and b) no, Rassilon wasn't anywhere in the area, the Master decided enough was enough, and he wasn't about to believe talking heads on a communicator, anyway. Not when he had someone he very much wanted to kill.

He stormed out of the room, into a long hallway, yelling for Rassilon. When no Lord President made a prompt appearance, he sprinted down the hall, ignoring the doors on either side, looking for something impressive. A computer array set into a wall, a massive archway opening up onto the expense of an amphitheatre, anything Gallifreyan. Anything ostentatious, demanding attention. Anything that seemed to demand breaking-or breaking into.

But the hallway remained mundane, all the way to the end-where he flung the last door open to find stairs.

And a familiar face.

"Hello, pal."The Master grins up at the thin, young-ish man on the stairs, ignoring the man's glare and the

[imjustpretty]

Oh crap.

Ray tries his hardest not to show it, but his feelings about this situation have just gone from "possibly tense but definitely manageable" to "holy shit where's my gun". Really, he shouldn't have come here without a gun. Note to self, Ray Kowalski, next time don't forget you're unarmed.

He doesn't let on, though, or hopes he doesn't. He narrows his eyes at the man at the bottom of the stairs, trying hard to ignore the plain, obvious madness apparent in that grin as well as the electric crackling that would look cheesy if it weren't so unsettling, and takes a slow, deliberate step for- and downwards.

"Hi. What's your name?"

Get a name. If you don't have a name, you can't negotiate. Good old police protocols, don't fail him now.

[some_go_mad]

The Master cocks his head slightly to one side as the officer-the man's posture, his voice, the eye contact he's trying to establish all say 'law'-steps down towards him. He shifts a sideways, circling step closer to the inner side of the landing, watching. Angling for a position to leap from.

Hm. This'll do.

He laughs, a sharp, tight bark, and lunges at the cop/officer/hero/soldier-whatever he thinks he is, he's dead, and his death is going to taste good.

[imjustpretty]

When the blond man doesn't answer, just stares and moves around sideways, Ray's fear becomes certainty--this guy is absolutely bugnuts, and also absolutely homicidal. Ray has seen both before, but never without a gun in his hand. It does make a difference. He was scared then, but he's terrified now.

Screw being a hero. If the Barge wanted to have its citizens protected, they should pay him a wage and, more importantly, give him a gun. Right now, Ray just really doesn't want to get killed.

The man laughs, and Ray doesn't wait for him to move. He spins around and tries to sprint back up the stairs--he has no idea where he'd be heading, other than far away as quickly as possible--but then he feels a pair of arms wrap around his legs. He stumbles, crying out as a sharp stinging pain snags at his nerves--the electricity, a far part of his mind decides, must be it--and hits his chin hard on the top step as he fails to properly catch his fall