Chapter Text
The Master has reached his breaking point. To put it in a better way, he has reached the peak of his shitometre and is completely and utterly pissed off. Why you may ask? BECAUSE HE JUST FOUND OUT THE REASON FOR HIS DRUMS!!!!
To be the malleable little puppet for Rassilon and his cronies to use as an escape route from the time war. He refused to accept that as the reason for his existence. No sirre, he would not stand for this.
The drums were beating louder than ever, but not even the overwhelming noise of his constant, never ending companion would drown out the indignant rage of being made a monster by the stiffnecked snoots that went by the name of The High Council when they were the little worms that made the monster. Oh, and also, his former best friend was pointing a gun at him.
Well, isn’t this fantastic.