Characters: Tenth Doctor, the Master (Simm Version), OCs
Pairings: None, really.. some slash implied, I suppose.. but only if you can see it. Basically it's not much different than what RTD gave us.
Spoilers: Series 3, mostly the last three episodes. Set a long time after Series 3's end.
Rating: T (violence, language, usual stuff.. will be dark in places)
Summary: A certain evil Time Lord being ensnared by Colony 9's newly-formed oppressive regime leads to some dangerous possibilities, while the Doctor may have arrived too late to stop it.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything. If I did, RTD would've written LotTL's MY way D
Author's Notes: This story assumes the Tenth Doctor and the Simm!Master have already met again after he is resurrected (however that happens). Herein I will make references to said meeting, which will be explained in time.
Basically, I wrote this because I wanted a story about a battle of wits between the Doctor and the Master, rather then slash (not that I've got anything against that, mind). So this is all about them and their personal war from a non-slashy perspective... with slight implied slash if you can see it.
This is unbeta'd and is the first bit of writing I've done for this fandom. So my apologies if it sucks :)
THE PRICE OF USAGE
The Master tore across the jungle landscape of Rexall 4, his expensive shoes soaked all the way through from his run across the shallow waters. He occasionally threw his arms out in front of him to avoid being hit by the numerous vines that dared to try and stop him. Now far behind he could hear the Rexallan tribes shouting at him for his treachery.
He wondered if this was the sort of thing the Doctor went through on a regular basis, he couldn't remember the last time he had had to run for his life like this. Well, there was that moment on board the Valiant after the Doctor had defeated him, but that was hardly the same as this. At least then he wasn't being pursued by several hundred tribesmen intend on offering him off as a ritual sacrifice to their gods.
Still, trying to start a war to get a hold of advanced technology was always a risky business. But he certainly hadn't expected the opposing tribes to join forces and turn on him at the last moment. If it hadn't been for his genius, he never would've made it out of there alive.
Leaping a small stream, he glanced back over his shoulder. The distance between him and his pursuers had at least widened a little, enough so they had stopped firing their energy weapons at him. At this moment he felt exceedingly thankful he had two hearts and could therefore not get tired out as easily.
Strangely, the drums were quieter than normal, perhaps they had been drowned out by his fear. A similar thing happened to him during the Time War when he had looked to death in the face and ran.
A flood of relief hit him as he zipped over some fallen logs to find his TARDIS, disguised as a large tree and unnoticeable to anyone but him. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his key, skidding to a stop before the time-space capsule.
As he worked the key into the lock, a laser blast exploded above his head. Twisting the key, he threw open the door and leapt inside. A second before he slammed the door shut, another blast flew past his ear and exploded as it struck the TARDIS console.
Picking himself up, he scrambled forward and began throwing switches, waving away the smoke. Hopefully not too much damage had not been done, but he would worry about that later, after he gotten off this godsforsaken planet. He set the coordinates for somewhere much nicer, a planet he could stop at and relax while he formulated another plan.
The moment his ship dematerialized and went screaming through the vortex on its way to its destination, he noticed that the sparks were still jumping. Breathing a sigh, he waved away more smoke and examined the damage more closely.
For one, the chameleon circuit had been blown to bits so he was going to have to build a new one from scratch, which wasn't really a problem; he'd just need parts. Although he wasn't too fond of the ship looking like a large tree wherever he went. It was almost as bad as the Doctor and his infernal police box. At least the Master actually had the engineering skills required to fix his ship, he thought with a hint of satisfaction.
Before checking the rest of the damage, he went back to the monitor and imputed a change of coordinates. There was only one place he knew of to get the parts he required and that was Idel, the ultimate intergalactic junkyard and flea market.
The moment that he threw the lever, the TARDIS rocked in a way that he was completely unused to, tossing him to the floor. More sparks leapt off the console before the familiar groan sounded throughout the ship to indicate that he had landed.
Coughing, he waved the smoke away and picked himself up, whilst muttering curses. His TARDIS normally didn't behave this way; she was a much newer and much more reliable ship than the Doctor's rickety old thing. She was so important, in fact, that he had made it a point to go and fetch her from the end of the universe before he went about with his clever scheme to take over the Earth.
Waving away more of the smoke, he quickly changed out of his current clothes and into new ones before donning his favourite black overcoat. As puny as humans were, he had to admit that he rather liked their dress sense. And their music, definitely their music. Pulling on his gloves, since it was sometimes rather cold on Idel, he checked to make sure his laser screwdriver was secure in his right breast pocket before he descended the ramp and opened the doors.
It was only after he closed the doors behind him that he realized, with a great deal of dissatisfaction, but this was certainly not Idel. His next clue came in the form of the dozen or so soldiers standing before his TARDIS with their laser weapons trained on him. Their white lights illuminated the otherwise dark room.
'Don't move!' one of them ordered.
Oh, this just wasn't fair! He swore under his breath, raising his hands and frowning at them. The men moved toward him with a pair of restraints and he knew this day had gone from bad to much, much worse.