The entire ride down was filled with nothing but laughter. Pure, triumphant laughter.
Some would declare the vocal exertion of victory to be insane or terrifying. The Master no longer cared, slouched over the lift floor as it descended to where his TARDIS lay. Nothing else mattered anymore, not with the revelation his deluded future self had intended to do. At first, the female incarnation struck him as witty, sarcastic, maniacal, haughty and everything else the Master was and more. At first, he found 'Missy' simply beautiful.
A nova in a sea of stars.
The betrayal hurt. Oh not the literal backstab causing him to slowly die as every small, insignificant minute passed. But the very idea that any version would choose to side with the Doctor, willingly with no self-preservation, because she wanted to turn good. Because she wanted to the befriend the Doctor again. The very notion almost caused the Master to keel over and vomit, if not for the blood slowly bubbling in his throat.
Stand with the Doctor? Not in this lifetime. And the Master made sure it would never happen in his future either. Survival was his middle name, but to stand with his sworn nemesis for a 'just' cause?
Well, beggars can't be choosers.
The Master winced, his laughter fading as he felt the archon energy building up, preparaing to regenerate and change the very man into that... That traitor. Suddenly death seemed far more appealing this time around, if only he can deny the Doctor what he wanted, now and forever. It wasn't the first time he chose overall death than become a pet to his enemy. To Rassilon with paradoxes! The Master wouldn't dare consider living another lifetime in the arms of the Doctor!
A ding sound echoed, the ride halting to an end. The Master groaned, struggling to even stand, the lift doors opened enough for the Master to glimpse at a pair of legs. Someone was already waiting for him, and his vision was beginning to blur briefly. Last thing needed was a Cyberman blocking his way. His hand gripped to his screwdriver; he wouldn't go down without a fight.
"Oh how the mighty hath fallen."
The Master stiffened, the blurring sight clearing up to reveal legs covered by black pants before him. He knew that voice. He recognized that voice. It was the voice of long past. A playful voice, concealing malice and deceit, mockery and cunning. Lifting his head upwards, the Master inhaled sharply, greeted by the sight of a mirrored counterpart, dressed in a fashionable suit with a velvet tie.
A past version. The one with style and the eager exterior of a child on Christmas. The bald one with his forever Chesire grin. "Never thought I'd see you again..." The Master murmered, keeling over again somewhat. The pain was becoming almost unbearable.
Above him, his past incarnation was 'tsk'ing' in mocking disappointment. "My my, how incredibly low we've become. Stabbing ourselves in the back, quite literally? I'd have thought I would never be so self-destructive, Master."
"What-" Followed with violent coughing, the older Master blinking rapidly. "- Are you doing here?" Was it a hallucination on his part? Was there something in Missy's knife that was causing him to see a ghost of his past life?
"Why, doing what I always do, of course!" The younger, yet physically just as old Master, widened his arms cheerfully. "Ensuring my own survival, of course!" The frowned. "My, you are looking dreadful. Have you considered seeing a Doctor?"
The Master ignored the jab, glaring upwards. "Don't tell you've taken her side...?"
"Oh I wouldn't dream of it." Without further prompting the younger incarnation reached down, grabbing the struggling Master by the arms and righting him upwards, grunting somewhat. "Steady on old boy. Have I gained some weight in my old age?"
"You can talk." The older Master bit out, albeit painfully, keeping a firm hold on his past life's arm and shoulder. "You always look like you have a buffet before every attempt of universal domination."
"Well, I can never say to a quick meal before going outside to establish my rightful place as Master of all." The bald Master then looked something akin to pouting. "Although it looks it'll be rather pointless now, after everything I've seen. I must say you've both been massive disappointments to my eyes. A Master in hiding for ten years? A Mistress standing with the Doctor? Unacceptable. Simply unacceptable."
"Why are you even here?" The Master grounded out, his younger self proceeding to help bring him to, he presumed, his TARDIS. "I certainly don't remember your shiny head being here."
The younger Master grinned that know-it-all grin. It reminded the older version eerily of the Doctor. "Imagine, picking up on a distress call from your own TARDIS in the future. You've been absent from it for too long, it released the initial signal, and I just happened to be nearest to responding to it. Imagine my sheer joy, after worrying its original owner would be dead!"
Even slowly and painfully dying, the Master with hair grinned lightly in turn. "You're too kind."
"Aren't I?" The younger version smiled narcissitically, continuing to explain his presence here, "I was wondering what you were up to, so I hid within my own TARDIS and kept a close watch. Unlike our slow future self, it wasn't too hard in recognizing you. Although the disguise itself? Ingeunious."
"Thank you Master."
"No problem Master." The two traded smirks. Yes, this bald version was definitely one of the most of his former selves he would've gotten along the best with, under different circumstances. "After the Doctor and, well, Missy arrived, my interest only piqued further. I bided my time, allowing events to flow naturally. Genesis of the Cybermen, how cunning of you! Exactly what I expected of myself!" Then, the younger Master frowned, disappointed as thought crossed him. "Although, I was a bit let down by both of me missing all ample oppotunities to kill the Doctor when he was most vulnerable. I was content letting two versions of me doing the job for me. You converted his companion, tied him to a chair, he had his back turned to you plenty of times, but you never took the initiative."
"Killing him... Doesn't sound as appealing as it use to be." The Master confessed, chuckling with some blood spilling from the mouth. Wiping his lips, he clarified to his past. "I've learned long ago that death will never claim the Doctor. At least by us... But we can always make him suffer..." Struggling to straighten himself, the Master winced as further pain built up into his sides and temples. "But I'd certainly never stand with him... Not now... Not ever..."
"No, leave that for your future." The future glared at the past's insufferable smug smile. "Oh don't be like that. You should be grateful I'm here to make sure you survive anyway! Speaking of which, we're here!" His playful announcement forced the Master to look ahead, greeted by his disguised TARDIS lying in wait. "Would like me to help you inside? Perhaps a quick waltz before you enter?"
The Master grimaced at the reminding jab, pushing himself and righting himself, pain coursing through his legs this time as he attempted to move alone. It took a few seconds, but the tired Time Lord managed to press himself against the outside shell of his ship, inhaling and exhaling deeply with his forehead reasting against cool metal, futilely attempting to soothe the excrutiating pain.
"You only had to say no." His past self taunted in advance, and the Master forced himself to turn, heaving with his back against the TARDIS to face the man he once was. With a smirk, the younger self nodded to the ship. "Well, you heard the Lady; go on inside and regenrate! I didn't drag you all the way here for nothing!"
"Why do you care so much?" The Master snapped, unable to understand the behaviour of this former life. "You've apperently seen what you become. Why in Rassilon's name would you willingly allow me to become..." He swallowed. Even talking hurts now. "Become her?" His voice was hoarse, everything starting to become slightly blurry again.
But the bald Master smiled lightly, dark eyes glinting mischevously. "Why? I should think the answer has always been obvious, my dear Master." And, turning around himself, the Master in the formal suit added casually, "Now, off you pop. I have some last-minute business to deal with. Looking forward to becoming you!"
The older version managed one last laugh, blood now spewing as he reached for the door to his time ship. "Everything... Has always been a game with you."
Pausing, the younger Master called over his shoulder with glee, "If you can't have fun with your work, why bother at all? Goodbye me!" His own laughter echoed from the corridor's shadows he walked into the depths of.
As the lift doors opened, the Master was greeted with a scorched field. A raised brow was the only response given by the bald Time Lord in his velvet suit. "You always have been a fanatic for theatrics, Doctor..." He muttered in amusement, glancing around. "Now where am I... Aha!"
About ten or twelve feet from the elevator, lay the body of his latest future. Without breaking stride, the cheerful Master strode over and proceeded to stand above the fallen body, glancing idly at the discarded item beside her in minor distaste.
A sonic umbrella. It's like a mixture of two things I abhor seeing.
Kicking it casually away, the Master proceeded to kneel down beside his future iteration, a light smile plastered on his face as he reached out, tenderly stroking the sharp features of his future. How extraodinary. A face of passion, of mayhem. Chaos and control. The look of a woman who was ready to cause untold destruction with a care of the world.
Quite frankly, the Master was both pleased and displeased. He didn't blame his other future self for being severely let down by this latest model. Obviously something happened in the future to incite her into stand beside the Doctor again. He almost didn't want to know what it was, and it wasn't the pressing issue.
"You think you can really change?" The Master commented, grabbing bother sides of the woman's unflinching face. "You? Now don't make me laugh, my darling. We are the Master. And no matter how hard you try, how muchy you attempt to change that destiny, you forget who it was who made us this way, long long ago..." Rearing his own head back, the Master smiled widely into the fabricated blue sky. "You can try to make up for what you did all you please, Doctor. I'm sure Torvac would've appreciated the gesture!"
For shooting her in the back, the other Master that just left failed to be reminded of something which was their own mantra.
The Master will always survive.
Looking back down, his expression shifted, eyes closed in concentration. "You're not dying today Missy. I'll see to that now... Contact."
It was a trying experience, attempting to establish a link between yourself and a dying version of you. But the Master was nothing if not resilent, and he always lived somehow. One day, Missy will realize the folly of her attempts to be 'good' and resume to her true lineage. Their destiny. And the Master was all too happy to remind her of that, moreso than his other future failed to do.
It was his turn to dance with the Mistress. And this time, the Master will lead.
And afterwards, kill the Doctor should he find him. That'd be a nice little bonus to cleaning up his own mess.
Sharp eyes fluttered open, greeted by the grinning features of a past long lived. At the beaming sight, Missy couldn't resist adopting a mirrored expression, her voice quiet and playful.
"Hello you."
AN: I just wished the MacQueen Master from Big Finish was mentioned, or at least given a cameo in the recent series finale. He's a fantastic portrayal of the Master who deserves some recognition on-screen. Ah well, so here's my attempt of remedying that. The Master of the past was always about self-preservation. Hope you enjoyed, friends!