Heya, everybody! "Hello, my name is Liz," for all the people who have never read my stuff before. "Hi, guys! I have a new story for you!" to all those who have followed my epic religiously. And a special, "Hey friend, I love you! Dhamaal was so funny, I've been quoting it all day!" to –FaCeTeD-DiAmOnD- !!! Please enjoy this first chappy, cuz I say so. Thank you.

Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who, the Master would never die under any circumstances. However, the Master died. Therefore, I do not own Doctor Who.


The room was black and freezing, like a vat of liquid tar. Some silvery, flickering orbs dipped and curved around the circular area, lighting it just enough so that the people inside could see what was going on. A circle of around twenty people lined the outer rim, all dressed in a series of black satin-like robes and silver headpieces, which shone fluidly by the light of the flying entities. A velvety mat lay in the center, on which all seemed to be focusing their attention. The outline of a naked human form was slightly visible, but nothing specific could be determined.

One of the people in the circle spoke, in a deep, commanding tone. "Begin the song, brothers. It begins…now!"

All at once, a great, terrible sound arose from the multitude. Pitches high and low, screeching and gentle, beautiful and horrifying bounced madly around the obsidian dome. Any normal person would have been driven mad by the din, but the cloaked singers seemed unfazed. The ritual continued for an age, until finally they concluded their hymn with one last synchronized roar.

Afterward, all settled back to their original silence; this time, though, they were expectant, as if they were waiting for something to happen. Nothing did, for a time, but no one appeared worried by the lack of events. Their strange, eerie patience was unnaturally strong.

Suddenly, a great scream emitted from the person, or the creature, enclosed in the circle. It thrashed and groaned, obviously in splitting pain. Not one of the singers raised a finger to help; by their reaction (or lack of one, rather), it seemed that this was perfectly normal for this process.

The torturous cries ceased after an agonizingly long time, at which the cloaked figures rose simultaneously. The one who had spoken before, apparently the leader, stretched out a hand.


At his command, the person leaped up in shock, and with a startling yell, charged at the leader.

"I do not think so." An iridescent bubble formed around the attacker, causing him to halt in his tracks and stand there, panting in fury and apparent pain.

The leader chuckled stonily. "We have another task for you. You failed miserably the last time. I hope that your results are a bit more productive this time around. For your sake."

Growling roughly, the other snarled, "No. You won't use me, not again. I won't have it!"

"Oh, is that so? You seem to be under the impression that you have a choice in the matter, scum."

His fists clenched, the tension in his muscles rising with each rattling breath. "I won't," he said in a hoarse whisper. "There's no way I'll ever obey you. Don't even try it, you hear?"

"See how he tries to change our minds!" the leader chortled, gesturing to his companions, who joined in. "It does no good. You will complete your mission, if it is the last thing you ever do."

"Which it won't be. I'll break free this time, you'll see. You won't hold me for long."

"Really? How fascinating!" he taunted. "I cannot wait to witness it."

Tension reaching its breaking point, the victim roared violently and smashed through his miniature prison, hands reaching for his insulter's throat.

"Bind him!" he cried, stepping back out of harm's way.

Immediately the command was obeyed, and four singers leaped out to grab the man's arms. Flailing around, they managed to hold him still long enough to put four fingers, one per person, to his head.

"No!" he shrieked, as his muscles froze. "No! Stop, please! No! I don't want to! PLEASE - !" The rest of his plea was cut short as his eyes rolled back, and his body went limp in the singers' arms.

"Take him away," ordered the leader. "Dress him and put him where he is needed."

"How are we to know he will finish it?" inquired one singer in a monotone.

Another laugh arose in his throat. "He will," he murmured. "Do not doubt him. This time is different. This time we have ultimate control."

Unconscious, the man was lost in a cool, drifting void. Nothing was there except him and the calm, just floating. Abruptly, a sound appeared in the distance, gradually getting louder and louder and louder until it was thumping right inside his mind, over and over, never ending, never changing.





Outside his mind, the leader smiled with smirking white teeth. "This time we have the drums."


Okays, since I am dead in love with the Master, I just NEEDED to bring him back. Maybe you understand, maybe you don't, but it was a physical NEED. His skinny, charming, evilness is just so damn SEXY!!! You know what I mean? Tell me you do and make my day.

So how did you like it? Please R&R, I desperately want your opinions, criticisms, praise, and suggestions. Also (IMPORTANT PLEASE READ!!!), I need your thoughts on who the companion should be. Since it is after Season 3, but Season 4 has yet to air, what do I do? Martha? Donna and Martha? Just Donna? Should Rose be in there at all? Please tell me what you think, it is all up to you guys! Thanks, love you all to bits!