Hey there! Sorry I have not been updating a lot of stuff lately, but now that I'm on summer vacation I have a lot more time to write and update stories. But I had this idea for a one shot that wouldn't go away so here it is.
The Master had been thoroughly been enjoying himself these past few months, campaigning, and brainwashing all the stupid, insignificant humans' brain cells into voting for him. Ah, it had been game of competitiveness and now his paradise was complete. And there was no Doctor in the way. No, no. His foe was trapped at the end of the universe with his pitiful, little friends up against bloodthirsty creatures who would no doubt win the battle of survival. No TARDIS, there was nothing the Doctor could do to stop him and his plans to dominate the god forsaken rock called Earth and universe along with it.
The Prime Minister sat content at his desk, fiddling with the objects that were strewn about. Lucy was off somewhere or another, doing who knows what, like he'd ever care. She was just another dumb, human toy he could play with and entertain himself with, but she was rather good at making him happy despite her stupidity. He had just held a press conference a mere two hours ago where he had killed all the staff in the room for not abiding to his plans the way that he wanted them to. The Master could not afford to have servants that made blunders. And while he was content, the Master was also… bored. It was just one of those times where there was absolutely nothing of importance or nothing of fun to do, so he sat there fidgeting with the items on the desk and soon became not very content at all.
Events though spiraled into something the Master couldn't have imagined beforehand. He heard a deep cough that resonated off the walls of his office. There was no one else here. There shouldn't be anyone else here. No, it couldn't be him! But he always found a way, didn't he?
"Doctor? Regenerate again? Only to follow me here, too little, too late? I don't see how you could've escaped, but you always figure out a way, don't you?" he called out to the room. No response was given. In his paranoia, the Prime Minister held up his Laser Screwdriver, scanning for any sign of life hiding in the office. The readings told him nothing was present in the room.
"Lies!" he shouted at the blasted device and slammed it on the surface of the desk. He knew, for certain, he had heard that cough, that wasn't his imagination.
"To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Urgent we meet. Kindly respond immediately. Sincerely, Kingsley Shacklebolt," the same deep voice echoed off the walls. The Master turned to a small, unkempt portrait in the corner of the room, where in the corner of his eye he had seen the figure depicted in the picture talking. The figure was of an African man who wore purple robes.
The Master approached the painting with his Laser Screwdriver in hand, scanning the portrait.
"What are you? Primitive technology to sure, but not simply average human technology. What race was sent to spy on me? Or are you an informant to the Shadow Proclamation? I shouldn't see why they would busy themselves here on Earth; it is only a level five planet," he reasoned.
"Please kindly respond immediately to Mr. Shacklebolt," the voice repeated.
Well, if this was indeed a trap, then the Master would kill whoever was behind this on sight with his Laser Screwdriver without hesitation before they could even have a chance to lay a finger on him.
"Fine. I will see this 'Mr. Shacklebolt'."
At the fireplace the flames turned green, and the same man from the portrait came spinning out. The Master just raised his eyebrows slightly at this; for he hadn't expected that would be the way the stranger would arrive.
"Prime Minister, I am Kingsley Shacklebolt," the man introduced.
"I sort of gathered that," the Master replied tersely. He gave a deep sigh; for he had to keep his composure.
The man continued, "I am the Minister of Magic for the Wizarding World. Every Prime Minister before has had to be explained by the Minister of Magic that magic is real, so that when a Wizarding threat is imminent, the Muggle government is prepared. I know this may be a lot to take in, but you need to be aware of this, Mr. Saxon."
"Wait. No, it can't be. But it is! Oh, this is perfect," the Master babbled.
"What?" his guest asked.
"You're the human mutants! I remember learning about them from the Academy! Your DNA was so distorted by radiation that it caused you to become your own subspecies, and you used that radiation that you call 'magic' in order to make you pathetic lives easier. You mutants even have your own 'secret society' in Britain, oh that is rich, and think you're so special and every other regular human being, whom you call Muggles, is inferior. While I highly protest the existence of the human race and everything they stand for, you are lower than them. You think you're special when really. You're. Just. Freaks. You're a joke to the galaxy, let alone to the universe itself."
The Master beamed as the Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt widened his eyes in shock.
"Who are you, Mr. Saxon?" the Minister questioned.
"I am not Mr. Saxon. I am the Master, and you best remember that. You talk of imminent threats coming from the Wizarding World and having to warn me about it, when you are in for the shock of a lifetime. I am sending an imminent threat to you! You have three days before I meet up with the President of the United States and release my children to slaughter all of humanity, including you mutants. So go ahead! Run off and tell your little mutant friends all about, but you won't be able to stop them even with the radiation you've got! The only reason I'm not using one of my kids to end your life this second is because I'm wanting to see how much you'll squirm under pressure, pressure that the world will end as you know it, and what feeble, small actions you'll take to prevent it."
Kingsley Shacklebolt raised a stick and pointed it at him.
"Oh, I'm so frightened! What are going do with it, whack me in the chest? Although I do have to say, it is pretty impressive how you managed to create a stick that conducts radiation. And even if you fire 'spells' at me; my body absorbs the radiation. Because you know what else I am, Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt? Not human. And neither are my children," the Master gloriously proclaimed.
"You are a threat to Wizarding and Muggle Worlds alike, and it is my responsibility to deal with you. Stupefy!" the freak shouted and a jet of light hit the Master's chest, knocking him off his feet, causing a twinge of pain that spread all over his body for a few moments. But quickly afterwards he rose back up to his feet, and brushed any debris off of his suit. The man stared horrified at him. The Master smiled back wickedly.
"So run along, Minister, panic and maybe even create an army of mutants because it would be pretty fun to see them all drop dead one by one. Toodle-loo!" he grinned back at Mr. Shacklebolt who quickly stepped back into the fireplace where green flames consumed him, and once the flames settled Mr. Shacklebolt was there no more.
The Master went back to his desk, content, and again took to his practice of toying with the objects on his desk. That had certainly been entertaining. Oh, he could just see it now: hundreds of the freaks lined up at 10 Downing Street with their wands held high, so confident of winning the battle yet so full of fear of losing the world they held so dear. But in the meantime, the Master would wait at his desk amusing himself with the items laid about on the desk. But the Master hated waiting. And soon he became not very content at all.
This was inspired when I was rereading Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, and after reading the first chapter I realized: Wait. The Master was Prime Minister so the same thing would have to have happened to him! So this was my interpretation of how their meeting would have gone down. I hope you guys enjoyed it and please review!