The dining room of the hotel was almost completely built out of wood and teak, creating a sort of tropical mood in this cold season. The tropical plants displayed in corners and nailed to the walls supported this, although they were beginning to decay. Someone had forgotten to water them today. You could smell it.

Delilah urged her son to approach the strange man who stood in the doorway of the dining room. He was half an hour early for lunch, but Jeremy was hesitant to tell this fact to this particular man. He gazed at Jeremy when he approached him, but even when the teenager stood right in front of him, the man would not speak a single word. Jeremy cleared his throat as he finally found the courage to speak.

''You're early,'' Jeremy said.

''I know,'' the man replied swiftly, yet perfectly calm.

Jeremy swallowed.

''You can come in if you like.'' Jeremy tried to be nice, but he was unable to hide his fear from this strange man.

The Master slowly entered. The wood below his feet creaked with every heavy step he took. His eyes analyzed everything in the room.

''Hello, mister,'' Delilah tried to say, but she was unable to remember his name, ''What did you say you're name was?''

''I didn't,'' the Master simply replied.

Jeremy continued placing menu's on the many wooden tables, but he couldn't help but look at the Master as he paced slowly around the dining room.

''Well,'' Delilah spoke hesitantly as she approached the Master. ''How's your wife doing?''

''She's fine,'' the Master spoke brief, almost angrily, as if he'd rather have her dead.

This response confused Delilah, so she merely smiled at the Master, not knowing what to say.

''Bill told me that you've travelled a long way to get here,'' Delilah finally said, ''Cardiff is a beautiful city, the capital of Wales it is, but if I may ask, did you come here for business or pleasure?''

The Master did not answer her.

There was a ceiling fan above their heads which would have spun around quickly in a warm summer season, blowing fresh air into their faces.

But now the ceiling fan hung there silently, unused and unnoticed, waiting for the winter season to pass.

The Master turned around and walked away, back towards the doorway through which he had entered.

''Where are you going?'' Jeremy asked.

The Master stopped and turned around.

''Why would you care?'' he said.

Jeremy found himself wanting to say something, but he was unable to, and so the Master left.

''What a strange, horrible man.'' Delilah said.

Jeremy said nothing.


His hands gripped the banister of the stairwell with a violent thrust, as he climbed up. He seemed excited, or rather eager to get to the next floor quickly. He skipped some steps as he climbed on. He seemed to jump from step to step, until his feet finally touched the blue carpet of the upper corridors. In the darkness it seemed dark blue, but whenever light touched its surface it seemed to be dyed in a beautiful silver shade.

The Master ignored the strange paintings on the walls in the empty spaces between the doors. The room numbers were accurately displayed on golden tiles beside the doors: room 103, room 105.

The Master walked slowly, tapping with the tops of his fingers against the other tops of his fingers.

Then he stopped, he sighed, and then he took a deep breath.

He looked around him, through the empty corridor which he had just walked through.

Then he looked in front of him again. His eyes gazed through the long empty corridor in front of him and the pale light which shined through a window at the end.

The Master put his back against the wall as he started to think.

His hands brushed the pale yellow wallpaper which once used to be white.

His fingers touched the pattern of flowers which a normal person would not be able to feel, but he could.

He gazed down the two corridors again, feeling the urge to spit, but he didn't give in.

The Master clenched his teeth together, unwilling to make a decision.

Truth is that he was bored; totally and utterly bored.

He could only think of his situation and the place he was in now. This dreadful place, where he couldn't stay any longer, yet he was unable to leave, forced to stay.

The drums, the drums wouldn't let him go. It wouldn't leave him alone, never, alone.

Somewhere, in one of these rooms, someone was taking a shower.

The Master could hear the sound of a man's song vibrate through the walls.

In the room behind the wall he was leaning on someone was packing a suitcase.

Someone opened a door and entered the corridor.

It was an old woman with strokes of grey hair which were visibly coming out from under her beautiful, purple hat.

She looked at the Master, not knowing what to expect. She hesitated to pass him at first, but then she decided to approach him anyway.

"Excuse me," said the woman as she passed him, carrying a heavy, leather suitcase by her side.

The Master nodded curtly, and he slightly raised his upper lip in frustration, when she could not see him anymore.

He started walking again, into the opposite direction the old woman was walking.

He passed more rooms, an elevator, and then he passed his own room: room 66.


The Master laughed hysterically as he opened the large doors with both hands.

"Hello mum! Hello dad!" he mockingly cried in an exaggerated happiness not that far removed from his own real joy, only he was happy for other, more sinister reasons the unhappy, rich couple who stood in front of him would probably never understand.

Lucy stood at the Master's side, sliding her hand back into its place; curled around the Master's hand. Her hair was high, held up by small spikes which had been placed in her hair.

She wore a long, beautiful black dress, and the Master wore a perfect, black suit, with matching black gloves.

The Master smiled politely, honestly amused by the uncomfortable welcome of the butler who approached them, but the Master gently pushed him aside with one arm.

He smiled at the rich couple again, who backed away in honest fright against a glimmering glass table, making some beautiful silver cutlery fall from the ground.

"Lucy, stop him, please!" the woman cried.

Her husband held her tightly as the Master approached.

'Now, we're going to need some money,' the Master said, pouting his lips and bending over a little as he rubbed his gloved hands together. "And you're going to give it to us." he added smiling as he pointed his gloved finger at the pair.

Lucy"s knees grew weak in excitement as she lifted her dress off of the white and beautiful floor.

The floor seemed to shimmer like marble in the morning light, which shined through the large windows at either side of the large hall.

Through the windows a beautiful, green valley was seen in the distance. It was part of the estate and manor which these two, rich people owned.

It was their home, which the Master and Lucy had penetrated and violated.

The Master treated the rich couple like they were children, who were unable to grasp his superior thinking and way of life.

"Lucy!" the husband cried, quickly pushing his spectacles back to the place upon his nose, before he dared to continue.

The Master picked a beautiful silver knife from the floor, which he held in his hands and analyzed as if it were an item of unbelievable value.

"Sir!" the butler cried.

The Master waited until the butler came closer before he attacked.

Lucy let go of the Master's hand as he grabbed the butler's neck and stabbed the butler's stomach with one violent thrust.

The couple screamed in anguish as the butler fell to the ground, staining the perfectly, clean, white floor with his dark, red blood.

"You killed the butler!" Lucy spoke. "You killed Douglas!"

She covered her lips with her pale and perfectly manicured hand.

She looked at the butler's trembling body and it seemed she wanted to cry.

Then all of a sudden, she leaped into the air, subtly and gracefully; a small, petite, leap of joy.

"I've always wanted to do that!" Lucy cried.

"I know, dear," The Master said. "That's why I did it."

"Oh, I hated that man…" Lucy was gleaming as she gazed upon the bleeding body of the butler.

"Now then!" the Master said. His powerful, dark eyes gazed at the rich couple who clung to each other, fearing the deadly hands of the man who threatened them now.. "As I was saying, we need money and lots of it."

Lucy laughed again.

"You will not ask." the Master went on gloriously. "You will not phone the police. In fact, you will do nothing. You will sit in this lovely little mansion of yours. You won't leave. You won't call your friends. You won't invite your friends. You will do nothing but eat, sleep, breathe and piss and fuck and all the other things you stupid apes do every single day of your life, until the day you die, capiche?"

The Master pronounced his last word in a mocking style, as if he was quoting a line from a bad movie.

"You can't do this," the woman cried, "You can't do this!"

"I can do whatever I like." the Master replied. "Wait, I'll show you…"

He cleared his throat as he straightened his back.

"You." he said to the husband who immediately set the round spectacles on his nose right, "Bark like a dog."

"What?" he asked.

"You heard me," the Master said, grinning like an idiot.

Lucy covered her mouth, hiding her small laugh from the couple.

"Bark like a dog," the Master said, as if it were the most common thing in the world. He said it as if it were a simple request, and not a violent and sadistic order.

The man refused to do such a thing.

He shook his head nervously as sweat glistened on top his bald head.

He straightened his back as a sign that he would never give up his dignity like that, not even to the devil himself.

The Master smiled politely as he turned around and approached the butler's corpse. He grabbed the knife which was still stuck in his chest and he pulled it out with moderate strength, staining his new, black coat with a few drops of blood.

Then he approached the couple again and pointed the bloody knife in their direction.

"You will bark." The Master didn't even raise his voice.

"WOOF!" the man barked. "WOOF!"

"Now that's more like it," the Master said, lowering the knife.

"Animals: that's what you are. The entire human race: nothing more than a bunch of stupid little apes, only they're far more dangerous."

The man swallowed as he looked at his wife in shame.

"Come, Lucy." the Master said, offering Lucy a hand. Lucy twisted her arm around his in a loving embrace.

"We're leaving." the Master said.

He smiled at them one last time before they turned around and left.

As they approached the door, the rich couple finally dared to breathe again, and their hearts calmed down.

"Don't forget what I said." the Master said. "Cause I will be checking up on you!"

They both nodded in fear.

"Bye mom! Bye dad!" Lucy finally said, as she waved her parents goodbye.

"Goodbye Lucy," her father replied, and his wife glared at him in anger.


"If only." The Master said to himself, awakening from his silly daydream.

He ignored his own reflection in the mirror, which was hanging on the brown wall beside him, as he gazed at dear Lucy, who was sleeping in the big bed in front of him.

She was asleep still, recovering from her operation, in this strange hotel.

The Master was playing around with a knife in his hands.

The knife he had used the night before; a weapon of murder and a piece of evidence the police would really like to have in their possession, only they would never find it.

Lucy was slowly breathing in and out. It seemed to be the only sound in the room besides the sound of cars driving on a highway in the distance.

This silence gave the room a strange tranquillity and sense of calm.

The Master had taken off his black jacket which belonged to his old suit.

Now he only wore the white shirt with the hole in it, made by the bullet that had killed him, that had sent him to the shores of the river Styx, waiting for the Hades' ferryman.

Yet he never got on the boat, for his life was saved yet again, and he had returned to the land of the living.

He was back, saved by this strange, strange creature which was sleeping in the bed in front of him.

His dear Lucy…

The Master cut his finger on the knife's sharp blade.

He angrily ran towards the bathroom and held the cut under a cold tap.

He wiped the blood off the knife by cleaning it with a towel, and as he stared at his reflection in the knife he somehow knew exactly what to do to end this horrid situation, to get out of this place, to regain his own dignity.

The Master gripped the knife in his hands.

He was planning to use it very, very soon.


"So what, we're just going to," Dianna asked, but she got interrupted.

"Yes," Bill said, and he chuckled.

He was stroking the front of his belt with his big hands as he leaned backwards in his rotating chair.

He sat behind his desk with a big smile on his face as Dianna swallowed and glanced around his small office, ignoring the gestures of Bill's hands.

"Right," she muttered, trying to act tough as she looked straight into Bill's eyes, fearlessly.

Bill scratched his beard and stood up from his chair. His fingers touched the edge of his wooden desk as he walked towards Dianna with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"Did you pay a lot for me?" she asked.

"You could say that," Bill laughed again, and he couldn't help but tap his large, leather belt again.

He walked towards the door and locked it with a small, bronze key. Then he closed the blinds which used to grant them sight into the hallways.

Only pale light from the grey sky outside shined through the window at the trembling, yet tough Dianna, who stood all alone in Bill's office, with her mind someplace else as she awaited the brutal man's touch.

In the distance, in the deep of the well, the drumming echoed on and on, creating ripples in the dark, poisonous waters of his mind.

In this dreadful predicament, the drumming was the only thing constant and never changing fact, for it was always there.

Why would it not go away? Had he not given it what it wanted? Had he not stayed when his heart told him to leave? Had he not paid that ruthless man when his hands told him to kill?

Why had he never grown used to this sound of drums in his mind?

Why was he always surprised by its appearance, knowing that it had never faded away entirely? Why did he forget, or was he meant to forget? Or even worse, was he meant to remember?


Dianna couldn't breathe. The big man forced his lips upon hers, pressing her body against the wall. He held her hands in a tight, powerful grip, with no intention to let go until he got what he wanted: what he had paid for in the first place.

"I can't do this," Dianna said, as she pulled her face away from his.

Bill's ugly lips stained Dianna's neck with his wet saliva. His five-day old beard brushed against her neck, tickling Dianna unintentionally.

"Listen to me." Dianna tried to avoid his brutal touch, his big, violent hands which brushed against her skirt as she tried to push the big man away.

"I paid for you…" Bill simply replied. "Customer is king, I always say."

"Please," Dianna begged.

Bill's hand touched Dianna's neck. His cold wedding-ring sent shivers down her spine.

"Let go of me!" Dianna cried.

She pushed Bill away.


The Master played with the knife in his hands. The metal blade reflected the pale yellow lights in the ceiling above him.

He walked through the dark corridors, through shadows, as he held his hand and the knife it gripped low beside his leg.

His pace was steady, yet quickening, like an orchestra who had just been ordered by its director to play faster, faster and faster until it would reach an ultimate musical climax.

Bill's office was right down the hallway. The Master remembered the first time he had stepped inside. Bill laughed at him. He acted as if he had the Master cornered and beaten.

He had no idea. He had no fucking idea who he was up against.

For the Master may be weakened, he may be at a disadvantage, disarmed and out of place, but he is still an opponent one must never underestimate.

The Master's vengeance will be sweet.


"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bill yelled.

"The deal's off, okay?" Dianna said, backing away from Bill as she tried to reach the door. "I'm not doing it. That."

"You'll do whatever I tell you to." Bill said.

"No way," Dianna said fierce.

Bill struck her down with a violent and flat blow to her cheek.

Dianna fell to her knees as she cradled her sore face.

"I paid for you, and now I am entitled to some service."

"ADAM!" Dianna yelled, as she tried to get up, but Bill simply smacked her down on her knees again, this time with a softer slap to her face.

"He can't hear you." Bill said. "He's in his room right now, on the other side of the hotel, listening to whatever crappy music he likes to listen to as he counts his money."

"ADAM!"

"Just shut your mouth, you little whore!" Bill yelled. "Or better yet…"

His hands brushed his belt again and Dianna looked away.

Bill's threat was cancelled as a mysterious hand pounded the door of his office 4 times.

Then again, and again, repeating the pounding rhythm all over again, not stopping until someone would open the locked door.

"This isn't over yet." Bill said, fearing her pimp and boyfriend to be standing at the other end of that door. He wiped his lips and straightened his shirt and pants as he approached to open the door.

But as he opened the door, he discovered that nobody was there. There was nothing but an empty hallway.

"What the-" Bill didn't understand.

"Some joke this is." Bill said to the empty corridor, not realising that Dianna swiftly ran past him behind his back.

"You bitch!" Bill yelled, as he tried to catch her, but the skinny girl was too quick for him.

She ran into the corridor, avoiding his powerful hands and finally eluded him entirely.

"You little…!" Bill cried as he realised his chase was pointless.

He stood only a few metres away from his office, but he gave up nonetheless.

"Give me my money back!"

"You'll get it!" Dianna yelled as she ran around the corner. "You'll get it!"

Bill growled furiously. He tightened his belt and returned into his office, where he opened the blinds of both the door and windows, letting light enter his humble abode again.


And the Master smiled.

Killing the manager would have been so easy.

Too easy.

But beating him at his own game; blackmailing him, now that would be fun.

The Master started to enjoy this challenge; he was glad the drums in his mind forced him to stay, for cowardice had its benefits, with survival being its main reward, but sometimes, if one could stick around and play along, he would be able witness the end of the match and the twist in the game.

And sometimes, that's worth the wait.


Dianna rushed away to her room where she thought her boyfriend would be waiting.

She was wrong; Adam was nowhere to be seen.

Biting her lip, she decided to search for the money they now owed the angry manager; the brutal man would probably not shy away from murder to get what he wanted.

Dianna feared retribution if she wouldn't return the money as soon as possible.

"Adam?" she tried again, whispering frightfully into the shadows of the dark hotel-room.

Big, dusty, purple curtains had shut away the light from entering through the windows.

"Adam?"

Nor her hopes, nor her persistence were awarded, instead she found nothing but an empty room and she couldn't find the money either.

Dianna panicked, running her hands through her hair as she chewed on her gold necklace in her mouth.

She spat it out as soon as she realised where Adam must've gone to.

Dianna shut the door behind her with a careless throw and a loud bang, before she ran downstairs again to where she thought the dining room had to be located.

Her hunch had been correct, and she found what she was looking for quickly.

She saw Adam sitting alone at a table in the crowded and busy diner, eating a salad and a sandwich as he read a borrowed newspaper.

"Adam!" Dianna cried as she rushed through the diner and sat down at the other end of his small, round table.

Adam wasn't keen on interrupting his relaxed lunch for his panicking girlfriend; in fact he seemed almost reluctant.

"Dina?" Adam feigned concern as he put down his newspaper, "What's wrong? He's not dead, is he?"

"No," Dianna replied. "He's not dead. I just…"

"What?" Adam asked.

He carefully placed his hand on hers, showing his sympathy and that he cared for her; that he loved her.

Yet soon he would remove that hand to continue eating his salad, revealing his true motives in a subtle, careless act, showing he did not care at all.

"I couldn't do it." Dianna said, trying her best not to be heard by anyone else but Adam.

She leaned forward and almost started to whisper to him. Every time either Delilah or Jeremy walked past, she sat back down in her seat and stopped talking.

"What?" Adam asked, putting down his fork as he stopped eating.

He swallowed his last bite and angrily looked at Dianna.

"I couldn't. I just couldn't." Dianna continued.

"What is the matter with you?" Adam said to her, holding down his anger, even fiercely shutting his teeth together to keep himself from shouting.

"Don't you understand how much money this guy has paid for you? It's like he just won the lottery or something! Dianna!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Dianna said. Her hand started trembling.

She almost couldn't control her tears.

"I just couldn't go through with it," Dianna continued whispering as she looked at the strange man in the corner of her eyes. "I ran…and I told him we'd pay him back…"

The strange man in the corner of her eyes sat in the corner of the diner, eating bacon with his sharp teeth.

He looked at her very strangely, and Dianna quickly looked away, knowing that he didn't do the same.

"But I just don't understand," Adam said. "Why did you do it? Why Dina, tell me why?"

Dianna couldn't answer him.

The stranger's eyes pierced the side of her face and she started to feel uneasy.

"Can we go to our room? Please?" Dianna asked.

Adam didn't listen to her.

"You just kiss him and sleep with him and go home!" Adam said. "That's it. So put aside your pride and give him all you've got. One little hour with him and we don't have to work for maybe three whole months!"

"Well, that's easy for you to say," Dianna whispered.

Delilah approached their table, wearing her apron and holding a coffeepot in her hands.

"Anything for you, dear?" she asked Dianna.

Dianna was hungry, yet Adam angrily glanced at Dianna before he said:

"No, thank you." Adam said. "We'll be going back to our rooms now and pack our suitcases."

Dianna glanced at the stranger in the corner, who laughed this incredible big, unbelievable smile at her, as if he was having the best day of his life.

"Oh, yes." Delilah said. "You'll be leaving in the afternoon, now, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are." Dianna said.

"Although there's a chance we might be staying here just a little bit longer." Adam added.

"Oh, I do hope so." Delilah said.

"Of course you do," Adam said. "Goodbye."

He violently grabbed Dianna's arm and pushed her in front of him, saying: "You shouldn't have come here. We'll continue this in our room."

The stranger stood up without finishing his meal.


Adam didn't let go of Dianna as he pushed her through the blue corridors of the hotel.

"Officially, I'm your pimp," Adam said.

"You're my boyfriend!" Dianna said.

"You do what I tell you to do." Adam ignored Dianna's words as if they meant nothing. "But if you ever pull of a stunt like this again, I'll leave, you got that? I'll dump you here in Cardiff and never look back. You hear me? Never do that again!"

"What? Not fucking the manager or talking to you in the diner?" Dianna asked.

Adam placed his hand on Dianna's cheek.

He used the seemingly gentle gesture to push her farther down the hotel's corridor.

"Both!" Adam said.

Adam almost ripped open the door to their room and pushed Dianna inside.

"Why are you treating me like this?" Dianna cried.

"Honey, look at this! Look at this!" Adam said, revealing Bill's money from the pocket of his jeans, "We could've spent this! I could've bought you new shoes! I could've bought a new jacket! Now because of you we're going to have to return it!"

He slammed the door shut, returning shadow into the room as he shut away the corridor's lights from the room.

He didn't bother to turn them on as he approached the crying Dianna.

"I could sleep with him," she muttered, "I'll sleep with him."

"Finally, you see reason." Adam said, brushing his fingers through her brown hair as she cried, kneeling down on the floor in emotional pain.

Adam had managed to break her once again. In his mind he congratulated himself on his ingenuity. He'd be a rich man soon, if only she would do her job.

"Take a shower," Adam said to Dianna, "That manager is never going to lay a hand on you if you smell like this. Honestly, really, take a shower."

Dianna could not speak, nor cry, nor make any noise. She was too weak to defend herself from her lover's grip, too weak to defy him.

Perhaps once she could have said something. Once, a long time ago, she could have slapped him in the face, she could have left him, but not today, not anymore.

She wiped away her tears and breathed deeply as she walked towards the bathroom of the dark hotel-room, doing exactly what Adam had told her to do.

She gathered the pieces of herself and carried her own heavy body into the bath-room where she turned on the lights as she entered.

The white light filled the bathroom and suite. Adam folded his arms as he watched how Dianna took off her clothing.

But another man was bathing in the light of the bathroom. He hid in the shadows of the room.

He had snuck inside when they weren't looking. They made the mistake of not closing the door entirely, and the intruder used this to his advantage.

His hand gripped the small knife in his hands with a gentle power as the drums faded away into the distance.

The absence of the drums left a terrible silence which the Master welcomed to his mind. He felt magnificent. He was magnificent.

As he grabbed hold of Adam's throat he aimed the knife for his eye.

No more could Adam see the light of the bathroom with his right eye. He could only see his own eye's reflection in the deadly glimmer of the knife's metallic shine.

The Master's wrist was itching to make one fatal move. The drums were miraculously absent.

Yet for some reason, the Master repressed his murderous urges and only listened to Adam's painful, frightful groans, instead of making them worse.

His eyes lingered on Dianna who was still struggling to take off her top. It got stuck around her neck and it blinded her from seeing Adam in the Master's deadly grasp.

"Listen to me." the Master said to him. "Are you listening?"

The Master tightened his grip around Adam's throat.

"Yes." Adam groaned.

"Good for you," the Master said, "Now listen carefully..."


As Dianna finally rid herself of the clothing around her head, she wiped away her tears and swallowed, clearing her sore throat. She did not hear how the Master whispered basic rules into Adam's ears.

Rules Adam would have to uphold to maintain his own life. He had to set aside his pride for survival.

"Leave now," the Master said, "And never come back. For if you do…"

The Master twisted the knife, letting light enter Adam's vulnerable eye for a brief second before the knife's metal returned in its original, threatening position.

"…you'll lose more than an eye." the Master finished.

Dianna gasped as she turned her head and saw Adam struggling to breathe as he fought to get out of the Master's stranglehold, without success.

She didn't know what to do. She could only think of covering herself up. She hid her half naked body from the deadly intruder by quickly grabbing a towel as she backed away into the shower.

"Do you understand?" the Master said calmly to Adam.

Adam nodded carefully.

"Good." the Master released Adam.

The drums stayed blissfully silent when Adam panicked and ran away.

Adam covered his face and he cradled his sore throat as he ran out of the room and out of the hotel, away from this mysterious and deadly assassin.

Dianna froze as she stared into the stranger's eyes; the same eyes which had been haunting her in the diner not so long ago.

Why did he follow her? Why did he come after her?

Was he going to kill her? Was this her final moment?

Dianna was afraid, but it surprised even herself that she was not trembling. She was fine, facing death, but she could not face her lover...

She courageously awaited the Master's reaction, yet it seemed they both froze as they gazed upon each other.

Then, the Master smiled and simply left, without saying anything, without doing anything, except the right thing.


Bill sat behind his desk, watching television. He lowered his hand from time to time into a small pack of crisps which he stuffed into his face whenever he could.

"The blast was one of the deadliest attacks in Baghdad in weeks, following a period in which many locals had begun to hope the security…

The newsreaders spoke to the camera's with emotionless faces, like they always did: cold, direct and straight to the point.

That's what Bill liked about them.

He ate some more crisps as he kept on watching the news, almost ignoring his wife, who entered his office at that point.

"Bill…"

"...still no suspects apprehended. The 28-year old Sam Leonard Smith had dropped out of medical school to be able to travel and see more of England. He travelled alone from Edinburgh to London and was mysteriously killed in Cardiff by a murderer who has yet to be identified."

"He got it coming." Bill said.

"You can't say that." Delilah said nervously.

She wanted to say something to Bill, but she was afraid, so she waited for the perfect time to tell him.

"Well, I am," Bill said, "He was travelling alone! He was asking to be killed, or at least mugged."

"They robbed him of his life, that is." Delilah sighed.

Bill ate some more crisps. "Don't care, really."

"Of course you don't," Delilah spoke.

Bill did not see the angry look in her eyes, or his son standing in front of his office with two packed suitcases and a lamp.

"I only hope that this will bring more tourists to Cardiff," Bill said, chuckling at his own humour.

Delilah was again disgusted by this statement.

"There's no such thing as bad publicity, darling," Bill said, stuffing away another handful of crisps down his mouth.

"I don't know why I ever married you," Delilah said.

"Cause of the looks, probably," Bill joked.

"Stop it, Bill," Delilah said, and she gathered her courage to say the most difficult words she ever had to say, "I'm leaving."

Bill didn't hear it at first.

He was listening to the television, so he didn't hear what she was saying.

"What?" Then he realised what she had just said. "You're leaving?"

"Yes, Bill," Delilah said to him, "I'm going to my mother's place, and I'm taking Jeremy with me."

"What?!" Bill angrily stood up from his chair. "All the way to London? You've got to be kidding!"

"Not anymore," Delilah said. "This is the end for us, Bill."

"But why?" he asked sincerely.

"'Cause you're sleeping with prostitutes, that's why," Delilah simply said.

Bill was left speechless.

"Goodbye, Bill." She turned around and left, intending to file a divorce as soon as she got the chance. Delilah left the hotel without looking back once, although Jeremy did.

It took at least an hour before her departure had any effect on Bill.

As he finally realised she would not be coming back, he forced himself not to cry and instead he chose anger.

He trashed his office, violently and passionate and murderous.

He had flipped his desk and destroyed his cabinets before he had a chance to calm down.

And he did so with perfect timing, for just when he calmed down, the news showed this:

"Tomorrow they will vote whether or not they will choose Acting Prime Minister Gary Quentin as the new and official Prime Minister, or if they will place their faith in the investigation and search for the presumed dead Prime Minister Harold Saxon, who disappeared after the assassination of American President Winters aboard the Valiant.

Saxon has since then been spotted at least ten million times in the UK alone, and over these six months, only six of these cases have been taken seriously by the police."

As the TV showed a picture of Prime Minister Harold Saxon something inside Bill Warren's mind finally made sense.

"I've got him!" he cried as he stampeded out of the office, like a predator picking up the scent of its prey.


"You."

The lights of the blue corridor were flickering. The Master stood in the far distance of the corridor, adjusting the collar and sleeves of his white shirt. With his black, stainless shoes he made no sound whatsoever. Bill on the other hand seemed to pound the floor with every step he took. His anger had seemed to turn him into a stampeding rhino, which would not stop for anyone or anything, except a solid, brick wall.

He seemed unstoppable, unbeatable, a bloodthirsty monster.

HE. KNEW. NOTHING.

The Master laughed.

"You!" Bill cried as he approached the Master, who stood motionless in the shadows. "I know who you are!"

Bill laughed as he walked on and on towards the Master.

"I know your name!"

The Master never moved a muscle. He calmly kept his hands in his pockets, never once feeling the urge to defend himself from the coming threat.

"I OWN YOU! One phone-call and the police will be crawling up every creak and door of this hotel to find you! You're mine now! And I am going to strip you dry!"

He laughed, but then he stopped.

He only had to take one more step and then he would have pushed the Master aside, yet Bill stopped right in front of him, and the Master never flinched.

This troubled Bill. He didn't understand why the Master didn't flinch.

He didn't understand why the Master didn't fear him.

He hated it.

"You'll have to pay me again, if you want your fucking wife to live." Bill said. "I'll snap the neck of Mrs. Harold Saxon, unless you give me what I want. Do you understand that, Prime Minister?! Hell, I don't even need to snap her neck, I only need to lean on her stomach and she'll be in complete agony. Of course, compared to what I'll do to you…"

"And you'll do what?!" the Master yelled. "Scream at me again?"

For one second Bill was taken aback by the Master's words.

"No, Mr. Saxon, I'll fucking kill you if you don't do what I say."

The Master laughed.

"Kill me?" he said. "No, I'm done with dying."

Bill didn't listen.

"When I'm through with you you'll be begging for me to call the police!"

"Then do it, you sick, pathetic, little man!" the Master yelled.

He started laughing at Bill. He laughed so loud Bill got so angry he clenched his teeth together and started to get cramps in his jaws.

"You're so out of your depth, aren't you…you sad, stupid, gorilla of a man!" the Master yelled, "You think you are so grand, so strong, and so untouchable, as you blackmail your guests and cheat on your wife, with fucking prostitutes! But you're not fooling anyone, you little hotel-owner."

The Master spoke viciously, mercilessly and without fear.

He slowly stepped forward, and Bill backed away from him, mimicking the Master's every step, only backwards.

"You see yourself as the centre of the universe, the most important thing in existence. Yet, you are scum, you are meaningless, as is the rest of all mankind, for you are but a man, one rotten, normal man, a human; just as meaningless as the rest of them, just the same."

The Master kept on forcing the oblivious Bill back through the long, blue hallway, through shadow and light.

"Humans are like insects, unable to grasp the bigger picture, the concept of vast and endless outer space. Like insects, like cockroaches, for you are like cockroaches, eluding extermination, genocide and your own species' warfare."

The Master never lost his calm. He laughed at some points, mocking Bill's fear as he drove him away, towards the staircase.

"You are the universe's greatest plague, its greatest threat. To trap you within a never-ending paradox, a genius loop of death and destruction in which you kill yourselves over and over again, was the best and most brilliant plan I've ever come up with."

The Master smiled proudly and arrogantly. This smile frightened Bill more than anything.

He could see his own death reflected in the dark eyes of the Master.

Bill almost tripped over his own feet as he kept on backing away from the Master.

"No, the Doctor may have trapped you at the end of the universe, but I don't care. No, wait, in fact, quite the opposite: I rejoice in the fact that your kind will finally die, for now none will escape the end of the universe, the apocalypse, heat-death, the beginning of nothing…the end of everything: except me."

The Master stopped.

Bill now stood right at the edge of the stairwell without him knowing it.

He gasped for breath as he gazed frightfully into the Master's eyes.

"Who are you?" Bill was trembling, frightened like a child who faced a judge in a courtroom, oblivious to the fact that his fate had already been determined several hours ago.

"I am the Master." he answered, and Bill backed away one final step into oblivion. His foot touched air and Bill slowly tumbled backwards into the opening, falling down the stairs, tumbling down until he finally hit the ground of the floor below with a loud thud.

Bill, the manager, was dead.

And there was no drumming.


The Master dragged Bill's corpse through the empty, wooden lobby of the ATREUS-hotel.

He pulled at Bill's big feet, touching his gigantic, ugly boots to drag him across the floor.

He was heavy. He checked all entrances and exits, hoping that a guest wouldn't be walking in on him as he tried to cover up this bad man's deserved murder.

The Master laughed as he called it that in his mind.

He deserved it.

The Master laughed again, but softer this time.

He dragged Bill's corpse past the desk of the reception, hoping to get rid of Bill's corpse in his office, where he would not be disturbed by prying eyes or curious ears and eager mouths who would not hesitate to call the police.

Torchwood would be all over this place within the hour.

He saw the door to Bill's office in the corner of his eyes as he looked around. Then he looked back and saw Dianna standing in front of him, glancing at the corpse at his feet.

She had a suitcase in her hands. She would've left if she had not caught the Master like this.

He looked at her, awaiting her response. There was a small chance she was not carrying a cell phone, and there was a small chance she would not be calling the police within her first breath.

"Are you going to kill me too?" Dianna asked.

The Master laughed.

"That depends." he replied amused.

The doors of the hotel opened slowly, and Dianna ran back up the stairwell she had just descended.

The Master quickly dragged Bill's corpse behind the counter of the reception and he hid beside it, hoping that the rich, fat couple who had just entered hadn't seen him.

"It seems fine by me." the fat woman with the glasses said, with an American accent.

"Typical." the Master whispered as he swiftly curled up dead Bill's feet and tried to fit himself beneath the counter.

"It looks better than the brochure." she added.

"Sir?" her husband said as he approached the counter. "We saw you!"

"Sir?"

The Master punched the floor with an angry fist.

"Why is he hiding?" the woman asked.

"Mister, we got a lot of luggage we'd like to have carried inside, I don't know if there's someone who can help me with that…are you the manager?"

Dianna lingered in the shadows at the top of the stairs, unseen by the couple who had just entered the hotel. She smiled at the Master who was still hiding behind the reception's desk with a dead body between his legs. He looked at her too.

She was laughing.

"Sir?" the man asked.

"Yes!" the Master said, suddenly jumping up from behind the counter to face the American couple. "I am the manager. How may I help you?"

He rubbed his hands together before he reached out towards the American couple in a symbolical gesture of him welcoming them into the hotel with open arms.

And then he showed them his big smile.