Disclaimer: I don't own 'Doctor Who' or any of the related characters; you should know the drill by now
Feedback: I'd appreciate it, believe me
AN: Just to clarify, this begins shortly after the end of "Utopia", but looking at what the MASTER did at that point rather than what the DOCTOR is doing; chapters will initially alternate between flashbacks to the Master's actions during the eighteen months he spent preparing 'Harold Saxon' for existence and election and the Doctor's actions with Jack and Martha in the 'present' after escaping from the Futurekind, in preparation for a certain revelation on the Valiant...
AN 2: Can't guarantee this will be regularly updated, but the idea just came to me and I had to get it started
In a small Cardiff side street, down the side of a club that was currently closed for the day, a simple police box- of the kind that had gone out of style several decades ago in any part of the country- stood silently, its appearance giving no impression that it was anything other than the simple box it looked like.
Inside the police box, however, it was a completely different story. While its outside appeared small, its interior consisted of a vast miniature universe, beginning with a large control room and continuing into the depths of dimensions and concepts which the human mind currently had no means of comprehending. In the middle of the control room stood a tall man with short, close-cropped brown hair and round face, dressed in clothing that seemed at least two sizes too big for him around the chest and arms and was at least a century out of date with his current time period.
This man was the Master, the second of only two known surviving Time Lords from the Time War that had annihilated their home planet and the rest of the species, and right now he was far from satisfied with his current condition.
"No no no no no no!" the Master cursed, slamming his hand in frustration against the console; why, of all the TARDISes to survive the Time War, did it have to be this one? "You will not do this to me, you stupid... out of date... worthless... piece of... garbage!"
If it wasn't for the fact that the Master knew TARDISes barely had enough sentience to be aware of what controls were being used- no matter what the Doctor might say, he was just being ridiculously sentimental; another foolish human habit the man had developed over his lives-, he could have sworn that the ship was laughing at him in his head.
As it was, he ignored the faint sound- it was so easily drowned out by the drumming he'd heard since childhood it barely registered anyway- and focused his energy on cursing the Doctor; it seemed that, after all those times dealing with 'insane supercomputers'- as the Doctor called them; the Master saw them as some of the few non-Time-Lord beings intelligent enough to recognise that humanity had been getting it wrong for years and it was time for someone else to do the job- he'd finally managed to improve his programming abilities to effectively lock out the TARDIS controls for setting the coordinates; not only had he locked the coordinates, but he'd programmed them so that the coordinates could only be unlocked with a code only accessible to the Doctor's unique isomorphic signature.
If the Master hadn't been so quick to get the ship working, he had little doubt that the Doctor would have rendered his transport completely inaccessible to the Master; as it was, the Master had escaped the end of the universe, only to find himself trapped on-
He paused, as the full implications of his location struck him.
Then again, he mused, a slight smile on his face as he studied the console before him, it is still Time Lord technology... I have managed to bypass the coordinates already... I am on the Doctor's 'home-away-from-home'... and it can travel to one other location...
The Master chuckled slightly as he looked down at the jar lying on the floor, that unidentified material holding the Doctor's other hand- what kind of idiot got himself into a position to get a hand cut off in the middle of a regeneration crisis like the Doctor's usual ones?- serving as his own private little 'trophy' of his latest victory over his old foe, the hand that had almost seemed to flinch away from him when he came in contact with it after his restoration...
That would be perf-
He stopped himself.
No... it wasn't perfect.
If he'd learned anything from his brief glimpse into his enemy's mind all those years ago- before that accursed surgeon sent the TARDIS into temporal orbit and the Doctor's regenerations were returned to him, resulting in him being trapped in the Eye until the Time Lords freed him-, it was a simple truth about the Doctor's very nature; specifically, the one thing he truly needed if he was going to survive his travels throughout time and space.
Some Doctors might try to do without, but in the end they always returned to this state of affairs like a comfortable suit of clothes...
Which made it the perfect way to truly attack the Doctor like he had never done before.
His old attempts had just been temporary, forced states; find the right candidate, and do this to them...
The Master allowed a broad grin to cross his face at that thought.
He would like to see the Doctor keep fighting when faced with evident like that...
The first step, of course, he mused, as he moved to stand over the telepathic circuits that would allow him to learn what his old friend had been up to since their last meeting, is to find the one that will break the easiest and hit him the hardest, then work out the fine details of staying hidden long enough to do it...
The Doctor would come for him; he had no doubt about that.
All he had to do right now was be ready for when his foe came...