Chapter Text
The Master had always been a creature of habit.
Sleep for 3 hours, wake, shower, eat, terrorise the universe, and smoke a pipe or two before bed.
Nothing too out of the ordinary.
Today the Master had landed on some small, insignificant planet in the Jhakata system. He strolled through the streets of some war-torn city, cane tapping on the shell-dented tarmac. His eyes calmly scanned the sky. The screaming civilians streaming around him were irrelevant.
Perhaps 100, maybe even 50, years ago he may have run. Hurried, maybe. But in his old age the Master felt he had the right to slow down a little. Take in the sights and sounds of the unrelenting death gracing this pathetic little civilisation. He deserved it. He’d worked hard to spend 478 years in the same body, after all.
A house was burning beside him. He breathed in the smoke, savouring the way it burned his lungs. He wished he’d brought his pipe with him. His brain vaguely registered that some of the pitiful insects were wearing gas masks. The Master supposed that if it got bad enough, he could use his respiratory bypass system. Such is the brilliance of Time Lord biology.
A youth caught the Master’s eye. They were dressed in fatigues with a gun at their waist.
This was his way in.
“I say, you there!” The Master raised his hand in greeting and moulded his face into a friendly smile. He swore he heard his muscles creak.
The youth looked up. And then back down.
Oh? So that’s how it is, is it? The Master’s face returned to its perpetual scowl. He grasped his lapel and stalked over to the soldier. His eyes flashed dangerously as he drew himself up to his full height.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, private!” The Master barked. The soldier looked up in alarm and they locked eyes. His form instantly slackened, eyes glossing over.
The Master felt a sense of calm wash over him. This was a role he had played countless times before. He squared his shoulders and peered down his nose at this new toy.
“Stand to attention, private.” The youth did so, staring at some spot far away on the horizon. Behind the Master came a scream and a sickeningly wet crunch.
“I am General William Masters of the 10th Commandment Fleet. I have come from my post far away to help you because you seem utterly incapable of helping yourselves. You must take me to your highest commander here. I’m sure I make myself clear, hm?”
The youth snapped out a salute (“Sir, yes, sir!”) and began to march away.
The Master tucked his cane under his arm and moved to follow. This was going to be fun.
The Master reclined in his chair, lighting his pipe and adjusting his glasses. He sighed out the smoke. That little game had been fun after all...
It hadn’t taken him long to infiltrate the ranks of the local army and get to a point where he had command of a section. From there, he played little cat and mouse games designed to look like he was gaining ground but were, in actuality, causing as much death and destruction as possible.
His proudest moment was ordering a missile strike into a town full of innocents to potentially smoke out one single traitor. Who happened to be on the other side of the country at the time. Whoops.
He took a particularly long puff as he remembered the utter despair in the voice of the message-boy who’d reported the loss of life. That night he’d had to grovel and plead his ignorance. That had stung. But the subsequent loss of morale around the command centre over the next few weeks had been completely worth it.
The Master breathed out smoke through a dry chuckle.
The ending had dragged on, much to his chagrin. Although, that was perhaps because he had been a little too effective in destroying both sides at once. In the end, though, his side had surrendered. He had managed to slip away back to his TARDIS, but not before assassinating the other side’s would-be President. With his bare hands, of course. He liked to keep his skills sharp and muscles strong. Even as his old body began to fail him.
The Master chewed on his pipe and huffed. A painful memory of his left knee failing him during a recent battle wormed its way into his mind. He’d almost lost his balance, his sword, and his left eye all because of his body’s weakness.
But the Master was nothing but a stubborn bastard and so he shook the memory out of his head. He ran a hand through his thinning hair as he told himself that he had plenty of life in this old body yet.
He couldn’t change yet. He mustn’t. Not until…
His TARDIS let out a chirp – time to sleep. The Master grumbled something that might have been a word of thanks and put out his pipe. He rose from his chair, moving in the direction of rest.
A book about the Reign of Terror lay forgotten on the coffee table.
The TARDIS was quiet and still. If one peered closely, they could see a vague apparition of a woman walking the corridors. Of course, the Master would insist that was impossible. No, no, dear me no. Entirely impossible.
A screen cut through the darkness. The TARDIS had detected another of her kind floating within the time vortex. And this one just so happened to contain the Master’s greatest foe and oldest friend – the Doctor.
And what curious companions he had on board…