Unjust
The Master hummed softly to himself as he moved through the corridors. He always loved reading in the gardens. True, the sunlight was artificial, and the breezes manufactured, but it was as close to the real thing as one could get.
He paused once to brush off some dust from his shoulder before passing a hand over the door lock. It slid open, and he stepped out onto the pavement. Old, dead leaves crackled beneath his feet as he squinted up at the green foliage.
Trees waved softly. Bird sounds came from here and there, and a real one would actually fly across the sky at some points. The Master made his way to the stone bench under the oak, crossing his legs and opening to a certain chapter.
Suddenly, he heard a crunch and, dropping his book, jumped up and whirled around. As he suspected, there was the Doctor.
But to the Master's abject horror, the Doctor had a high-powered hose in his hand. His foot was poised over the switch. As if in forewarning, the hose was dripping.
The Doctor's grin was positively diabolical. "Ready to continue our game, Master?"
The Master pointed a finger at him. "No, no, no, no you don't!"
"Oh yes!" The Doctor said gleefully. His sneakers moved closer.
"I'm defenseless! I haven't even got a water balloon! This suit was just cleaned!" The Master protested, all the while backing towards the door. His back pressed against cold metal. It was closed.
"Sorry. Really, I am so sorry. We have to keep the fight in the garden or the Old Girl will have a fit. Ready?"
"You can't…you can't do this! It's not fair!"
"Yeah. It's brilliant."
As if in slow motion, the Master saw the Doctor's foot come down. The next minute, he felt utterly drenched as water slammed into him, soaking his clothes through instantly. His first desperate thought was to cower against the wall, the second to run. His third idea came through much stronger.
He ran forward, into the stream. He faltered a few steps, than continued his headlong rush, colliding with the Doctor. They fell to the ground, struggling for control of the hose. It would spray first him than the Doctor, getting in their faces, splashing mud up, and hitting the roof.
"Give me that hose!" The Master spat out water. "You will obey!"
The Doctor blew water out of his nose as he rolled away, tangled up in it a little. "Nuh-uh. I wasn't born yesterday." He vaulted over the bench and sprayed the Master from there, as if from a fort.
As the Master ran around, the Doctor tried to retreat. The Master flung himself forward and caught his ankles. Again, they were struggling on the ground, thoroughly washing themselves and their surroundings, kicking up leaves and mud.
But the Doctor had a plan. Slowly, their water fight moved on towards the southern end, where the duck lake was.
He purposely let the Master yank the hose partly away, while the end of it danced between them like something alive. The Master teetered on the edge, so intent on wrestling the hose away that he didn't notice the Doctor hook his leg around behind the Master's knees. All he saw was an evil, mischievous grin.
Down he went, over the side, falling into the warm, algae covered water. A few seconds later, he resurfaced, spitting out and treading on water. "What did you do that for?" He exclaimed, furious. No, burning furious.
The Doctor leaned over, grinning from ear to ear, hands on his knees. "You asked for it."
DwDwDw
Rose came out of the bathroom to meet the Doctor. He bounced happily on his heels, fresh, dry suit held awkwardly with one hand. He pulled her into an exuberant, muddy kiss. She pulled back and wiped her mouth with the back of her arm. "Phew! Bloody…Doctor, what's up with you?" She snapped, annoyed.
He grinned, dancing past her into the bathroom. "I won! By all the stars, I just won a water fight! Vengeance is sweet! Who invented that quote anyway? It should have been, "VENGEANCE IS AWESOME! VENGEANCE IS AWESOMENESS INCARNATE! Haha!" He ended, than burst into a song of some strange, alien language.
Rose grinned in spite of herself.
DwDwDw
Lucy followed the strange trail of water through the halls, the one that led to her husband's room. She finally found her husband standing helplessly in front of the closet. His clothes were pooling, with green strands of ponds scum stretching over his body. Mud, partly washed off, decorated his features. Algae plants hung gracefully from his hair, ears, and arms.
Lucy could find nothing to say, at first. She stared at him, mouth partly open.
He frowned at her. "Is something wrong?" He crossed his arms imperiously. The effect was ruined, however, by the fresh stream that made a plippety plop sound as it poured onto the rug, as well as the mysterious croaking that emitted from his pocket.
Lucy burst into roaring laughter.
FINIS
