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doctor who (d3) the master - simm

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[seated in an ornate armchair, speaking in fluent, articulate, and rather pleasant-to-the-ears Gallifreyan]

It's actually a bit disgusting, hearing you lot speak Gallifreyan so primitively. Like chanting off - no, that metaphor's incomprehensible without a background in high mathematics. Fine. Like writing Calculus and finding everyone else doing basic algebra.

[then he changes to Russian - less articulate, of course, but he's comfortable with the language]

This one, though, this one's a bit ironic. Look at me, the Master, the deathless, blathering on in Russian. Haven't been in ages, should probably go back and put a few more legends into the locals.

[sips from his wine, and slips back into Gallifreyan]

At least the people of the city still understand me.

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Not all chains are made of metal.

I won't kill you because of him, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to hurt you.

And I have no inhibitions of any sort, lucky me.

Try something, see what happens.

[lifts his screwdriver, points it at Jack, and presses down on the button]

[Jack moves the second the Master begins to lift his arm, reaching for his gun. He has pointed at the Master by the time the button is pressed. He's not fast enough, however, and by the time his finger pulls the trigger his body has already begin to crumble to the ground. The bullet is off it's mark, but does it hit anything?]

[this is a Choose Your Own Adventure, isn't it? I mean, the narration is entirely serious as the Master's shoulder is clipped. Bullet, tearing through flesh? Ow.

But, unfortunately, 'tis but a flesh wound]

Oh, Jackums, when will you learn?

[Yes, because who doesn't like a good Choose Your Own Adventure? And flesh wound is better then no wound, at least in Jack's opinion. He's still crumpled on the floor, but he should be waking up soon enough]

[I love Choose Your Own Adventures! So the Master chooses to turn to page 23 and kick the gun away from Jack's hand, then turns to page 13 and puts his foot firmly on Jack's chest]

Wakey, wakey, freak.

[Jack comes to a moment later, gasping loudly. He tries to suck in a lungful of air, but the Master's foot on his chest makes it almost impossible to breathe normally]

Hello, Captain. Having fun?

[He's glaring up at you now Master, though struggling to breath ruins the effect somewhat. Turning his head, he starts looking around, trying to reach for his Webley]

[and the Master moves his other foot to step on the hand nearest the gun - shifting his weight from that foot to the one on Jack's chest for a moment, of course]

Come now, Jack, none of that.

[There's a snap, and Jack feels the bones along the center of his hand break. He barely manages to muffle his scream]

Don't worry; it resets.

[bends down - enjoy the feel of his weight shifting between the feet - and picks up the gun, straightening up]

I think the Brigadier has this make. Did you get it from him?

[He makes the mistake to shift, try and ease some of the pressure. All it does is cause more pain, making it harder for his lungs to expand, breath coming in short pants] It's my gun, had it for years.

I hope there's no sentimental value, there.

[grinds his heel in]

[He would have screamed then, but he barely has enough air to groan in pain. It takes him a moment to speak] Don't you..dare touch it.

Oh, please.

[empties the bullets into Jack's leg, then holds the gun by the tip of the handle and points the screwdriver at it. It burns, and then the metal begins to melt, and drip onto Jack's face]

[He reaches up to try and push the Master's hand away, the stench of burnt flesh filling the air as the liquid metal drips down and burns patches of skin and even bone in some places]

Gruesome. [lifts his hand higher, out of reach, but doesn't move it away, burning and burning and burning, until it's too hot for the Master to hold the handle anymore]

[so he drops it on Jack's face]

[He let's his hand drop back, scrambling to find something to hold unto on the Plane and coming up empty-handed. He can't even see anymore, tissue and bone and hair all burning. The pain is so much that Jack can't even think anymore, just focuses and struggles with every breath]

I'll let you recover from that on your own, Jackums.

[and he disappears from the Plane, leaving Jack to die]

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