Not my characters. This story follows my fic "They Have Been There From the Start".
Madam Kavorian is still gloating over Amy's distress when she receives a tap on the shoulder. "Ahem."
She turns. A short, scrawny man with platinum hair, a scruffy beard, laced-up black shoes, worn trousers, and a black hood crumpled at the back of his neck is standing there. "Who the devil are you?"
The man inspects his fingernails and speaks quietly. "There was a time when, had I deigned to deal with the likes of you, I would have been bombastic and hammy. I would have danced my victories and thumbed my nose at your feeble, apish caperings. But I'm old now, and reformed, and so very tired."
"They're all dead. I killed them. They tasted great. The Doctor let me out to play, just this once, because you made him very angry."
"Who are you?"
"It's been a long time since I did this…ah…there we are…" lighting crackles from his fingers, and he rubs his hands together to charge up the juice. "You fear the Doctor for his fire. I am the shadow to his light. I am the night to his day. I am the death to his life. I am his prisoner. I am his jailor. I am his oldest enemy. I am his oldest love. When I strike, only the Doctor may save you, and the Doctor has stepped aside. You want a Time Lord raised to be a weapon? HERE. I. AM."
He blasts her with the bolts of Artron energy, agonizing electricity and fire and the Vortex itself.
He turns away from her charred form, injecting himself with the drug that the Doctor temporarily stopped giving him, the one that usually keeps him from burning up his life-force. He mutters to himself, "I am the Master, and you pissed off the only being I give a damn about. Now where's that baby?"