AN: I do not own Doctor Who, or any of the characters. Please read and review, and I hope you enjoy reading!
Hearts pounding. Feet skidding on a narrow metal surface. The Master muttered an old Gallifreyan curse under his breath as he managed to regain his precarious balance, just in time to slip out of reach of the razor sharp claws at his back. The night sky was foggy and misted over with stars, but The Master didn't have time to enjoy the view. He was only just escaping death as it was, and even if he did have time to spare, he'd no doubt just shake his head and scoff at the beautiful scene, declaring beauty to be a pathetic human invention before laughing his maniacal laugh. The idea certainly appealed to The Master, but the hungry snarls of the beast behind him reminded him of his priorities. Escape first. Then evil laughter.
There seemed to be no end in sight of the rickety walkway The Master was sprinting across, but below him he began to notice what looked like a forest. The land sloped gradually downwards, most likely into some kind of valley, but it was an improvement over the vast ocean he'd been racing past for the past god knew how many hours. The Master vaulted over the thin railing without breaking his stride, and hit the forest floor running. A low thud landed behind him, the icy cold breath of the beast reaching The Master's neck and sending shivers down his spine. He quickened his sprint, but it was difficult when he was so exhausted. Being a Timelord had its perks, but even their race had limits. The downward slope gave him enough momentum to stay just out of reach of the beast, but what would happen if The Master tripped or eventually became too tired to run?
He'd be dead within seconds. The thought was what drove The Master forwards, what forced him to push his body past its natural capabilities and survive just a little longer. This was not how The Master was going to leave the universe. He was meant to die in a blaze of glory, not stranded on his own on some foreign planet in the middle of nowhere!
How had The Master even got here, anyway? He couldn't quite remember. One minute he'd been crowing with delight over defeating some puny alien warlord, and the next minute he'd found himself desperately trying to escape being eaten by a monster he hadn't even seen yet. His first instinct would normally have been to fight with everything he had, but for some reason sheer terror had overridden every one of his instincts. No time to think, no time to fight or even attempt to negotiate (Ugh). There was only time to run.
The Master cast his mind back, struggling to fill the holes in his memory.
The first thing he remembered was the spaceship (Why was it that all of his problems started on a spaceship?). He'd just fought- and won- a battle against Aradagne Zwarloff- the young, moronic warlord and king of the planet Orgok. Well. The Master could hardly call it a planet. Not when two thirds of its land mass had been laser beamed into dust and the remaining third left as a bloodied wasteland. When The Master's handiwork had been completed, Aradagne had (rather foolishly) challenged The Master to a fight to the death. "Winner takes all" had been Aradagne's terms, although the idiot had had nothing The Master wanted. Although The Master had to admit, once the alien's intestines had been scraped out, they had looked rather stylish draped over The Master's shoulders, like some sort of nightmarish feather boa. The Master had even gotten Aradagne to agree before he'd died (The Master fondly recalled Aradagne's exact words as being "Those are my intestines, you sick bastard.").
But what had happened next? No matter how hard The Master tried, he couldn't remember getting from the spaceship to the planet. There was the vague memory of lying in a mucky ditch, screaming every cuss word he could think of as his body frantically tried to heal itself. Regeneration hadn't been necessary, but it had still taken hours for his body to repair the damage done. Had that been what had attracted the beast? His screaming? His Timelord energies? The Master doubted he'd ever find out.
The last memory he had was of running. Every cell in his body ordering him to flee, the first sound reaching his conscious brain being the vicious, predatory snarl of whatever creature he'd managed to stumble upon. Presumably he'd had enough sense not to argue with his body, because here he was hours later still running as fast as his legs could carry him. Every limb ached, every breath burned, every heartbeat was agony, and yet The Master still ran. He was (God help him) beginning to sympathise with The Doctor, who seemed to be on the run from some kind of monster every time The Master saw him.
Distracted by the thought of his old friend/enemy/hetero-life partner (God, he wished), The Master stumbled over the inconveniently placed tree root across his path. This time there was no regaining his balance, and The Master tumbled head over heels down the hill for several painful yards. When he finally rolled to a stop he scrambled to his feet, hearts pounding uncomfortably quickly at the sound of heavy footfalls approaching. He was barely even focusing on the direction in which he ran, only stopping when he encountered a solid metal obstacle. He fiercely pounded the metal, trying to shove past it, but it stayed defiantly in place. Glancing either side of him, The Master saw the dull grey sheet of metal spread far beyond his vision. He'd hit a dead end.
A low grumbling sound made The Master freeze. He whirled round, blood running cold in his veins when he finally saw the beast that had been so relentlessly hunting him. It was a hellish, disturbing beast, as though it was the spawn of Satan himself. Two giant fangs jutted out from a stone mouth, burning red eyes narrowed bitterly. The beast's skin looked like black stone, rusted bat wings sprouting from its back as it reached forward with both hands, claws extended and ready for the kill. The Master could only watch as it stepped closer, fumbling deep in his pockets for anything he could use to fight. His laser screwdriver was rather annoyingly missing, leaving him with no way to attack or defend. Maybe Fate had decided that was how he was supposed to die. Somehow The Master doubted he'd be able to regenerate once this thing had eaten him.
Now that he could see it, its movements seemed different. Jerky, almost robotic, completely different from the lightning fast creature that had chased him across the planet. What had changed? He tore his eyes away from the beast, searching for an escape route. Maybe he could change direction, or even run past the beast and backtrack. It was certainly moving slowly enough that he could slip past it. His eyes flickered towards it again-
And froze. It was only scarce inches away from him, its face twisted into an ugly, gleeful sneer. One claw loomed above The Master's face, the other spread wide to block his path. He was trapped. If he moved in either direction, he'd be sliced into ribbons. How had it moved so quickly? He'd looked away for seconds; barely enough time for such a slow beast to reach him. Something niggled in the back of The Master's mind, a half forgotten memory. He'd encountered a creature like this before, but what had it been?
Before he could find the answer, there came a terrible metallic screeching sound behind him. The Master turned his head instinctively towards the sound, and at once two things happened. There was a low whistling sound in the air seconds before something wickedly sharp slashed across The Master's turned back. In the same second, something dragged The Master forward and through the open doorway that had appeared in the metal sheet. He collapsed in some kind of corridor, trying and failing to stand up when he heard the outraged roar of the beast behind him. Then there came an odd crunching sound, and The Master turned around in time to see the strange stone beast collapse into a pile of dust, strange tendrils of grey smoke slipping into the air. The Master looked up incredulously at whoever had saved him, sharp eyes rapidly taking in every detail. The person looked to be a young woman, probably no older than twenty-five. She had her back to The Master, hands quickly tapping out some kind of code on something The Master couldn't see. A moment later, the 'door' slid smoothly shut, and the woman turned to face The Master.
The first thing that struck The Master about her was that she was beautiful. As the two looked at each other, a new, strange feeling had taken hold of The Master, the sudden ache of wanting confusing The Master to no end. The second thing that struck The Master was that desire was a disgustingly human emotion (That bloody race again. Would he ever be rid of them?). He fought down the new feeling, observing the girl in front of him with a clinical indifference, as a scientist looks at a lab rat before experimenting on it.
"Who are you?" The woman interrupted The Master's staring, and he felt a stubborn frown cross his features. She didn't know who he was? How was that even possible? Everyone knew who The Master was! Everyone!
"Who are you?" He asked obstinately, and the girl smiled. She tossed her light blonde hair over her shoulder, soft blue eyes gleaming in the harsh artificial light of the corridor.
"I'm Jenny."
AN: She's back! I hate that the BBC left the "Doctor's daughter" plot behind, so I'm including her in this story. I didn't intend for this to have some humour in it, and I think The Master seems a little more psychotic than usual because of it. I hope you enjoyed it, and please leave a review to tell me what you thought!