Chapter Text
The Master wakes to the feeling of pressure on multiple points on his body, that seem to randomly get tighter every once in a while. He decides they're probably ropes, although that doesn't explain the random tightening.
He's not quite sure how they got to where they are. His memories are bit blurry, probably because of some kind of drug-induced haze so that whatever sick person brought them here could do whatever they wanted without the two kidnapped people knowing.
It’s honestly impressive that whoever orchestrated this whole thing did so without either of them realizing, especially since it’s really hard to acquire drugs strong enough to affect Time Lords. That means that said person, or maybe people if he's unlucky, either has a ship to fly to different planets, or, if he's double unlucky, can time travel.
Coming back to the problem at hand, the Master opens his eyes only a bit—in case someone's watching—to assess the situation he's found himself in. Or, they've found themselves in, as he quickly realizes he's not alone. The other must be fidgeting a lot, which explains the differing pressure from the ropes.
They seem to be in a spacious warehouse, although he can't see any doors or openings apart from small windows near the high ceiling. There’s also weird patterns on the floor, but they’re currently chained to a pole a few feet away so he can’t tell what they are.
His chain of thought is interrupted by getting elbowed in the side, something which was quite obviously on purpose, as the person on the other side of the pole's arms are very far away from him, meaning they had to lean over.
He grunts as the wind is knocked out of him, attempting to hit the offending limb back, but fails as it is retracted before he can reach it. His indignation only increases as he is shushed by the person who just elbowed him.
"Quiet! I just needed to make sure you were awake." He hears the other person whisper-shout. The good news is he recognizes that voice. The bad news that the last time they saw each other was when he used weird lightning to kill the resurrected Lord President of Gallifrey, Rassilon, before getting pulled back into Gallifrey with him and locked in Gomer's Asylum.
Of course, Rassilon didn't actually die, and the Master was cured of the disease that was killing him, and he did escape the asylum eventually, and he did kind of deserve it because he brought the Time Lords back in the first place, but it still hurt when the Doctor was facing him with the gun, fully prepared to kill him if it sent them back.
Oh well. Back to the problem at hand. How to escape these stupid ropes.
"I don't suppose you have a plan?" He hisses quietly, leaning over and hoping his counterpart can hear him.
He assumes the message was heard, as there was a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the pole as soon as he starts speaking.
"Master?" The Doctor says incredulously, but less like he was surprised and more like he was confused.
"Yes, yes, it's me, now do you have a plan or what?"
"Oh. Yes! Right here, I just need you to help me grab it." He trails off, seeming to forget to mention what he needs help with.
The Master waits a few moments to see if he'll continue speaking before opening his mouth and saying, "Are you going to continue speaking?" in an exasperated tone.
"Oh yeah, sorry about that. Brain's running a million miles a minute, y'know?"
"I don't care."
"Oh. Okay. Anyways, what I need help with is getting my sonic, because it's in my trouser pocket. I've been trying to wiggle it into a position where I can get it, but it hasn't worked so far."
Well, at least the Master knows why he was fidgeting so much before. He has to take a long moment to reflect on the fact that the man who was just wriggling around to try and get his stupid screwdriver has committed genocide.
"…well are you going to help or not?" The Doctor questions with such an accusing and condescending tone that the Master immediately bristles and remembers why he tries to kill him so often.
"Fine. Whatever. I'll help you get your stupid screwdriver." The Master snaps.
"What's gotten you up all in a twist?"
The Master chooses not to answer that, partially because he's mildly stunned the Doctor is that stupid and socially awkward, and partially because he's just feeling a little spiteful.
Fortunately for both of them, the Master is not uncomfortable with putting his hand in the Doctor's trouser pockets. The Doctor is obviously not uncomfortable with that either, as he was the one who suggested that, so both cases are clear there.
The Master wonders why that was the first place his mind went. He decides it was probably a sex thing. Something to do with memories of putting his hand in the Doctor's trousers in a place this was definitely not his pocket.
Anyways, actually doing what he said he would do. It's only a bit of a struggle to slouch and wriggle his way into a position where he can reach around the pole to where the Doctor is impatiently waiting. Of course, then he has to deal with trying to find an object the size of a pen in the mess that is the Doctor's bigger-on-the-inside pockets.
Oh well. Small price to pay for freedom. Although it is taking a very long time to find the screwdriver, and he's feeling a great many of converning things, such as what feels like a held full beaker stoppered with a paper towel, some complex wiring on a baseplate that he's pretty sure is actually a 43rd century modern art piece, and what might be a decomposed vegetable.
He makes a face as he touches that last one, as it's very mushy and disgusting and he'd very much not like to think about whatever he just touched. However, it might not all be for nothing, as he feels something that might be a pen, and might be the sonic screwdriver they're looking for. It's about a fifty-fifty chance right now.
"Doctor, do you have any pens in your pockets?"
"Erm, well, I might. It'd be a bit silly if I didn't, wouldn't it be though. All this space and not one pen?"
The Master sighs, and simply focuses on trying to get the stupid slippery metal thing out of the pocket. It really is absurd how hard it is to get this maybe sonic screwdriver out. It's like there's engine grease or something in here. With the way the Doctor is, there probably is, honestly.
"Are you done yet?" The Doctor asks impatiently, like the whiny little brat he is.
The Master decides not to answer, as he's concentrating right now and also if the Doctor doesn't get attention he'll stop talking. That last bit is extra important because he's honestly just annoyed at the moment.
Finally (finally!), he gets the fucking idiot piece of scrap metal out of the Doctor's stupid, probably engine grease covered left trouser pocket.
And of course, it's a fucking pen.
The Doctor seems to be slightly remorseful about something as he watches the Master try his best to throw the pen across the room—which of course he fails at, as his arms are tied to a concrete pole—before whispering, "My sonic's in the other pocket."
Now that's the fucking last straw. He drops his chin to his chest before raising his head and letting out a roaring yell as loud as he can. He thinks he can hear laughing coming from somewhere, but that might be the bits of sanity he managed to scrounge up from the pile of shit that was his life after receiving that white point crystal.
Of course, his life was shit before that too, but it kind of just increased exponentially from there.
It was at this point that he wondered if he still had that laser screwdriver he made a bit ago, although it took him a few moments to remember that he did in fact have a laser screwdriver, and that it was in his hoodie pocket.
He honestly thought that was a pen, but at least they can get out of the ropes now. They probably could've gotten out without it, but that would've involved even more time, even less sanity, and quite a bit more injuries.
Whoever tied them here either wanted them to escape or was just fucking stupid because, now that he's looking down, the outline of the laser screwdriver is very obvious, and his arms have been tied in a way that doesn't restrict his ability to reach into his pockets at all.
It feels nice to have the screwdriver in his hand. It has a very comfortable weight, and the metal is cool against his palm.
"Hold still." He grunts, holding it up to the rope going across their chests and holding their arms down.
It's a very simple matter to use a quick burst to cut the rope, and he cuts the others with the same ease as the first. It feels very nice to stretch his arms, and the way his shoulders pop when he raises them above his head makes him think that he's been tied up for a very long time, as he's only been awake for an hour at most.
He walks over to the Doctor, who is staring at the markings on the ground. They both jump a little when a disembodied voice starts speaking very loudly. He notices in that exact moment that he can't tell what time it is or what planet they're on.
They must've given him stronger drugs than he thought, beause Time Lords can sense that by smell alone, and those statistics are very clearly missing from where they should be. Come to think of it, most of his brain is extremely sluggish at the moment.
He wonders if-
"Master, are you listening? The person just said that the floor past that black line is a minefield! Do you even care?" The Doctor cuts him off frantically.
"I like it when you use my name."
Okay, what the fuck. Is that all he has to say, seriously? Is his brain that impeded right now that all he can say is a single sentence? He was fine a few minutes ago, what's new now?
The Doctor seems just as confused as the Master at what was just said, which is honestly relieving because it means that he'd been coherent enough before that this was completely out of character.
"Repeat what she said, word for word." The Master says, trying words again, and succeeding.
The Doctor rolls his eyes in exasperation but obliges, saying, "It said that the floor past that black line over there is mined until the black line all the way over there, and that only the marked spaces are safe. And also that if we try to go over the field one at a time the mines will go off so we have to go at the same time."
"So this is an escape room, basically."
"Yes, fine, it's an escape room. Now how are we going to do this?"