pawnofrassilon | For Eileen <3<3

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For Eileen <3<3

On a cold spring evening in Wiltshire, in the year 2011, a man falls to Earth.

Some children look up and think they see a shooting star that night. Adults, knowing that whatever it is is far too large, think it might be a comet or meteor. Or else they assume it's a trick of the eyes, an afterimage of a headlamp on the road. Some, oddly enough, think of angels. News reports are non-definitive.

Much like the film, the man isn't quite a 'man' at all-- not by the twenty-first century Earth definition, anyhow. He's alien, though it's only by the doubling of his pulses and the nature of his abrupt appearance in the first place that any human could tell.

Unlike the film, he isn't particularly concerned with saving his home world. Not anymore.

The Master lies very still for a long time, heedless of the fact he's crumpled up in the middle of an open field. He's fallen quite a distance, even for a Time Lord. And many of his injuries are much, much older than that. His clothes are little more than rags, torn to shreds and singed to the point of near purposelessness. If it's even possible, he's dirtier than ever. Exhausted. Parched. Hungry. So hungry.

Eventually it's the hunger that gets him up and keeps him moving. Feeling the click and slide of bones that are likely dislocated if not broken, the Master struggles to his feet, heaving and wincing in pain, his skin becoming momentarily translucent with the effort. He's in trouble, his energy stores dangerously low and his body in real danger of being ripped apart. But it's nothing a little snack won't fix. Taking a great whiff of the night air, he cracks a grin just short of sanity... and lets his nose lead him staggering through the darkness.

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Rassilon's small smile of bitter satisfaction grows wider. Time Lord or no, for his continual treachery the Master deserves no less than to be tracked and hunted down like a common animal.

"It seems the Doctor was correct about one thing: humans have their uses. Lead us to him," he orders.

Rose sags to her hands and knees as the restraints are released. She picks herself up, wipes the tears from her cheeks, and turns to go retrieve her tracking equipment. Best to comply, for now, and hope a plan presents itself.

It always worked for the Doctor.

If only he were here now...

"This way."

Time Lords flank Rose on either side, Rassilon gripping her upper arm possessively, as she leads them.

"No tricks," he warns her. He doesn't need to give her an 'or else'; the sight of her crew being disposed of was a clear enough example.

[ooc: The Master can be wherever you want in the building; I figure he'll have something up his sleeve by the time they catch up]

"Wouldn't think of it."

She picks up the tracking device and turns it on, then swallows as she sees that the Master is still in the building.

"He's here," she says softly. "On the lower level." Slowly she starts to walk, her eyes on the little flashing red light on the screen of the device in her hands.

Rassilon makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat, grips her more tightly. The Master, reduced to a little red dot. Reduced to easy prey. Such an elegant solution to a pernicious problem. Perhaps he'll keep this one around a while longer.

After all, soon all Earth-kind, along with the rest of the universe, will be subject to Time Lord rule. Serving Gallifrey and Gallifrey alone. They may as well make themselves useful.

And the best news of all is that it's a universe where the Doctor cannot interfere. Not once the locks are in place.

"He'll pay for his crimes," Rassilon purrs, and it's unclear even to himself who he means.

While Rassilon's mind is assured, at ease, the Master's is a whirling mess of panic. He moves from room to room through an endless maze, one dead end after another, but in the back of his mind he knows it scarcely matters. They're coming.

Rose has no idea what crimes the man speaks of, but she resists the urge to ask. She also resists the urge to ask him who will make these Time Lords who killed he team pay for their crimes.

They go deeper into the labyrinth that is the lower level of Torchwood HQ, and Rose's mind is spinning fast. What happens when they find him? How is she going to survive? How is she going to escape?

How can she just let these evil Time Lords do whatever they like to the Master?

It all comes down to the same, primal instinct: survival. And the Time War has driven Gallifrey mad enough to forget anything but that instinct. The Master should be pleased, but the truth is it horrifies him. Even he's never gone quite this far.

The dot stops moving.

As they near its location, Rassilon holds up one hand, halting the party, and sniffs primly once, twice.

"He's close. Just behind that door."

The guards move forward to open it, not needing specific orders. The Lord President should never have to march headfirst into danger. But Rassilon gives them anyway.

"Contain him, but leave him alive. I'll deal with him myself."

Rose watches the guards prepare to open the door, and tries to think what may be inside that either she or the Master can use. It's a storage room with alien tech inside, but no weaponry as far as Rose is aware.

Then the door is open, and the guards are through,, and Rose hisses with pain as Rassilon's hand tightens around her arm.

No obvious weaponry, no, but that's never stopped the Master before. The question is whether he's had enough time to come up with something workable.

The Time Lord certainly doesn't seem dangerous at the moment, cowering as he is against the wall when the guards burst in and swarm around him. In fact, he recoils bodily upon seeing Rassilon, his throat suddenly going dry, and slides a glance of horrified betrayal toward Rose.

"Ah, there you are, Lord Master." Rassilon drawls the name as if it's a joke. "No, don't bother getting him up," he orders the guards. "For his crimes, his rightful place is on his knees."

Rose meets the Master's eyes, and her own mouth goes dry as conflicting emotions tear through her mind. The Master had hurt her, hurt her team, killed and eaten people... yet the Time Lords seemed as bad, if not worse, killing in ice-cold blood.

Rassilon shoved her aside, to be restrained by two guards, each taking an arm rendering her helpless.

"Now," crows Rassilon, daring to step closer now that the Master's surrounded, one of the Time Lord guards beginning to slip a pair of the cuffs onto him.

Really, that's his first mistake, and that's why they never get to hear the meat of that no doubt lofty speech. The Master strikes out with both arms, quick as a wink, sending the guards flying away from him in all directions in an electric blaze of energy. With a grin, he clambers to his feet, sparking in anticipation, to face Rassilon. There's little trace of that fear and defeat in his bearing now.

"I believe you have our positions confused," he growls through his teeth.

The guards who had been holding Rose release her to attack the Master, and she staggers back, looking around. She catches sight of a lead pipe leaning in a corner, and grabs it. With all her strength, she brings it down on Rassilon's head.

Rassilon smirks in return and merely, lazily, raises his gloved hand. The Master blanches. Does he ever take that thing off?

Rose's little act of rebellion comes as a surprise to them both, Rassilon emitting an undignified croak and collapsing to hands and knees, and the Master sliding the human another look, this time a little impressed in addition to the bewilderment.

And then the guards are upon him, no longer wasting time with the cuffs. Instead, one of them swings his weapon around, clipping the Master in the temple before he can properly react, and sending him down as well.

One of the guards comes for Rose, and catches the pipe neatly as she swings it toward them. Rose whimpers out a cry as the Time Lord wrenches it from her hands, and backs up against some shelving as he levels his weapon at her.

The Master lies still on the ground as the guards wrench his hands behind his back and apply the energy dampening cuffs.

Rassilon, meanwhile, is picking himself up with a groan, hand to the back of his head. When he rounds on Rose, it turns to a snarl.

"You," he growls. "You think you can take on a Time Lord? I should kill you where you stand."

"Go on, then," Rose says, her expression weary, worn, but unafraid. "I'd rather be dead than be a slave to the likes of you."

Rassilon's temper is great enough that he's completely prepared to do it in that moment. He flares his nostrils and raises the glove... and then stops, temporarily distracted by the sounds going on behind him. The Master is coming to, attempting to break free, and collapsing with a small, surprised grunt as all the energy is dispersed into the cuffs instead. He rolls to one side slowly, glaring at Rassilon as he tries to catch his breath.

Rassilon chuckles. "I told you to stay on your knees," he says, turning his attention fully to the other Time Lord.

"You never did accept your place in things. 'Lord Master' indeed," he snorts. "But no matter. You're a blemish on our society, a sickness that must be eradicated. We can't break the link by killing you; that would create an unwanted paradox. But we can offer you the eternal punishment you tried to escape."

He raises the glove again, and the Master struggles more frantically. To no avail; the glove glows bright white, and the Master begins to writhe, screaming and sobbing in pain.

Rose looks around wildly, sure there must be something, somewhere, that can help them, but the only thing she can see is a teleport device on a wristband, much like Jack's. They had found it after an anomalous burst of energy from the Rift, but had yet to test it.

It was getting a test now.

The guards were all focused on the Master, sneering at him as he got his comeuppance. Rose took the opportunity to grab the wristband and slip it on. She took a deep breath, then leaped on the Master, throwing her arms around his prone figure as she activated the device.

The Master, curled up in a whimpering ball, makes no indication he's even noticed Rose's arms around him. But he does notice the end of that pain, sharply cut off-- and then a sudden, second wave of disorientation. They've been transported, somewhere, somewhen... by what must have been an awfully crude device.

For a single, terrified moment, he's sure they've been taken back to Gallifrey.

The Master struggles frantically, blindly out of Rose's grasp before he dares to lift his head, peering around. The two of them are sprawled on a vast, green expanse. Grass. Sort of. There are four moons in the sky, crowding the stars and throwing an unnerving amount of light down on them. It reminds him of a spotlight. Wherever this place is, he knows it's old, nearly as old as Gallifrey.

Rose, unfortunately, is quite human, and without a Time Lord's constitution the disorientation of the trip has her stunned. As the Master shoves her aside she rolls over and stares unseeing at the strange sky. It's a few moments before she blinks, struggles to her hands and knees, and retches miserably into the grass.

His head whips around at the sound of someone vomiting, focuses on Rose for the first time.

"You," he hisses. "This is all your fault!" It probably isn't quite as grateful a response as she hoped.

"You led them straight to me." He'd grab her by the shoulders and shake her, hard, despite the retching-- if he didn't still have the cuffs on.

Rose spits into the grass, then fixes the Master with a look.

"Oi," she near growls. "They followed you to my world, and my base, and killed my people, and you think they wouldn't have eventually found you? How thick are you, anyway? Would you rather I have left you there?"

She stands up shakily, and backs away, looking around at their surroundings.

"Where are we, anyway?"

"How should I know?" the Master snaps back bitterly. The thing is, he doesn't know, and that bothers him nearly as much as the fact that he's cuffed and helpless on an alien planet.

He wriggles pathetically in the grass, trying to get to his feet and only ending up dumping more energy into his bindings.

Rose looks down at him, biting her lip. If she let him go, he would likely either run or hurt her (maybe eat her). It seemed a better plan to keep him cuffed. So she leaned down and with both hands on one of his arms pulled up to lift him to his feet.

The Master allows Rose to help him up, but as soon as he's found his feet he shrugs off her grip, hissing in disdain and backing away.

Now that he's more mobile, the Master takes a better look around. Far off in the distance are some faint lights-- a city, perhaps. He sniffs the air, speculatively, and even with his hands bound behind his back he has a hungry, predatory leer on his face.

For Eileen <3<3

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