Ultimate Re-Master: Interrogation
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Martha felt their inelegant pushes as they thrust her forward. She felt their heavy hands on her shoulders as they forced her down into the hard metallic chair. The smell of dust and heavy fabric swept across her face as a piercing brightness filled her eyes only to be immediately complemented by an encroaching gloom from all corners of the room; from its cement walls looming in the darkness. She turned to see her assailants, two men, one black, one white, both in black suits and ties, shined black shoes, laced tight and even. Black sunglasses obscured their eyes, their hands folded neatly behind them as they stood on each side of a heavy metal door. She looked forward to find a heavy metallic table positioned in front of her, built into the cement floor. The shackles on her wrists clanked as she sat back.
"Where am I?" she asked. "I have rights, you can't detain me….what crimes have I committed?"
Silence was the response. She frowned as she remembered what had happened. She had gotten some groceries and was walking back to a hotel room she and Mickey were staging in. They had been following reports of mysterious activity in the upper echelons of the United Kingdom's tech industry. There was evidence, though not concrete, that the activity wasn't wholly human in origin. They were staking out one of tech executives that had shown red flags. That's when they had shown up, a black car had jumped the curb in front of her and before she could do anything two men had grabbed her, put a rucksack over her head. She was taken from her thoughts by the sound of the metal door opening and the sliding lazily closed.
"Apologies for my companions' - improprieties." Martha looked sidelong at the new arrival. He was much shorter than the men who had grabbed her. He looked South Asian by complexion, his hair dark and quaffed slightly in the front his face, wreathed by short, manicured stubble. In his hands he held a manila file. "Martha Jones, ex-UNIT officer with the science and medicine directorate, formerly associated with the clandestine organization Torchwood, doctorate in medicine, specializing in surgery, married and divorced to one Dr. Thomas Milligan. Now, well, I guess career freelancer in - general 'spooky' stuff is what we'd call it in the business…"
The man sat down, gently sweeping a lightly lavender cross-stitched looking jacket out from under him, revealing a muted blue waistcoat with a pocket on his chest, a button down white shirt underneath with a faded, plaid bow-tie, neatly perched on his throat.
"And who are you meant to be?" Martha asked ruefully.
"Oh-" the man said absent-mindedly as he laid out the file and read it silently.
"Oh what?" Martha asked.
"No, sorry, just 'O', Agent O if you're into formalities." The man replied looking up and smiling. "If you must, they do sometimes call me Horizon Watcher…but I think that's more of an insult than a name."
"Why am I here?" Martha asked, curtly.
"Because we caught you?" O replied looking at her as if she was an idiot.
"You know what I mean!" Martha insisted.
"This business, you and your associate have…" O started.
"He's not my associate he's my hus-"
"Not by law though, never signed a document, you see we here at MI6 have to do things by the book…" O cut her off as he pulled out a sheet of paper. "Mr. Michael 'Mickey' Smith, small- scale mechanic by trade, but apparently he moonlights as a fighter of unearthly terrors in his free time. Either way; your business, what were you doing investigating a person you know as Samuel Corwith?"
"Where's Mickey?" Martha asked, glaring at the man named O as he seemed to be perusing some of the sheets in the file.
"Hmm? Neutralized, I believe…isn't that right, Rogers?" O replied not looking up from his sheets to the black man standing behind Martha.
"Yes, sir, he attempted to flee-" The man replied.
"You killed, Mickey?" Martha restrained the shock as best she could.
"Not by choice, obviously." O replied quietly, as he returned to his reading. "Now, Samuel Corwith, why were you investigating him?"
Martha glared at O in defiant silence. O looked up quizzically at her and then smirked and nodded his head slightly.
"I can understand why you would think this silence will help you, Ms. Jones." O said quietly as he sat back. "However, I can tell you right now, if you answer my questions, honestly, truthfully, quickly, we can have this whole business over with much faster than necessary. Plus-" O snapped his fingers and in doing so the door of the room opened and a man with a bag walked in and handed it to O who promptly opened in and put his hand inside, pulling out a sandwich, "I have the freedom to call for takeout anytime I need…a freedom you currently lack."
The smell of the sandwich reawakened a hunger Martha had forgotten about. She wasn't sure how long they had been on the road, but half of the reason she was getting stuff from the store was because they had been hungry. Her stomach curled as the smell of the pastrami, swirled in her head.
"You think I can't handle being hungry?" Martha asked indignantly.
"Quite the contrary, Ms. Jones, but why be uncomfortable when all you have to do is answer some questions." O replied; he took a bite of the sandwich, purred slightly while chewing it, swallowed and then leaned forward. "Samuel Corwith; what were you after?"
"Nothing." Martha said sharply.
O seemed to sweep his tongue over his teeth in his right cheek and shook his head. "It has to do with the tech murders going on. You think they aren't natural, not of this world…"
"That would be insane." Martha replied, the sarcasm hardly hidden.
"You're right, my compatriots think the same." O said quietly. "I disagree. I know all about the invasions, the clandestine subversions, the replicants. UNIT is my late night reading, Ms. Jones." He looked wistfully, as he sat back. "The UNified Intelligence Taskforce, admittedly I liked the original name, made more sense. Either way, I know what they all were getting up to, that old bullhorn Stewart in Peru and his daughter. I know what Torchwood was really, I know about the big bad wolf in their closets. Whilst the rest of MI6 thinks it's all fairytale cover stories, I know….Martha Jones, I know the truth. And the truth shall make ye fret, for the truth is terrific, because it incites terror…"
"If you know the truth then you know Mickey and I were not the problem!" Martha retorted.
"Ah, see, that I don't know…" O said as he sat back, "but I'm glad we're now having a conversation. It's a beginning. Your name seems to coincide with another person, as does Mr. Smith's, a known disruptor…alleged in the collapse of the Harriet Jones government, the fall of the…" O stopped and seemed to stretch his neck as if trying to get a crick out of it, "Harold Saxon government, not to mention a number of other what could be described as mass campaigns of terror. A person that given current conditions MI6 is very interested in contacting."
"He works for UNIT, talk to them." Martha said quietly.
"You know UNIT collapsed, as did Torchwood." O replied, a self-satisfied smile on his face. "And the contact information for this person is unfortunately not located in their files." O narrowed his eyes, to Martha. "But he would never abandon one of his good friends. Where is the Doctor?"
"I wouldn't know." Martha said quietly. "Not as if he answers my phone calls is it? If he did Mickey and I wouldn't be in this mess…"
"Well, you wouldn't be in this mess alone if a lot of things didn't happen." O said quietly as he threaded his fingers together. "When was the last time you communicated with this 'Doctor'?"
"I don't know. It's been years." Martha said sharply. "I tried keeping track but things got weird, I think 2011, yeah, Japan, he'd…"
"Yes?" O pressed.
"He'd changed." Martha said quietly, looking away. She then looked up. "I never saw him again."
"You have the device with which you contacted him with though?" O asked, narrowing his eyes at her.
"He doesn't answer it." Martha retorted.
"You have it though!" O said, more forcefully this time, standing up and pressing his hands onto the table. He was seething. "Where is it?"
"Like I'd tell you." Martha said, as she steeled herself.
O took a deep breath and straightened his jacket and started to walk around the room; hand folded behind him. "Quite right to. You don't know me; I could be anyone, after all this is all just a game of spymasters isn't it? And this has been a very difficult experience for you and I apologize, I usually try and run a neater ship." He turned and looked to the men behind Martha. "You two, go through Ms. Jones' things for contraband, all telephonic devices, anything that looks like a transmitter. Ms. Jones is right we have no reason to hold her, but if we find anything we think is suspicious we're within our rights to confiscate it. I'll see to her release forms and her removal from the premises."
Martha looked up in surprise. She heard the two men leave, the door slush closed behind them. O reached into a pocket in his jacket and produced a set of keys.
"What are you doing?" Martha asked.
"Unlocking your shackles." O said calmly as he unlocked the shackles on her wrist. He turned. "Now just sit there and I'll do your paperwork. "Terribly sorry for everything…"
"Every- You murdered Mickey!" Martha shouted as she rubbed her wrists.
O walked around the table waving a hand as he sat down. "Oh, Martha, I wouldn't be too worried about that, you'll be joining him soon enough." He started to pat his coat. "Now where is it…?"
Martha could feel her chest beating. "What do you mean the joining him?"
"Now I know I have a pen here somewhere…" O said quietly. "Ah, yes, here it is…"
O took out some forms and seemed to write on them with a flourish.
"I asked you what you meant!?" Martha restated aggressively as she stood.
O smirked slightly and looked up very slowly as he slid the pen back into his jacket pocket, his free hand laying on the table. "Oh, wasn't that clear enough, what I'm doing? It's a little revenge, to try and smoke out the Doctor…." O's finger started to tap.
Martha could feel the adrenaline burning as the tapping found its rhythm. She took a step back, the back of her calves hitting the metal chair, as O stood, his nose flared slightly and a maniacal grin cut across his lips.
"You-you can't…" Martha gasped as she staggered behind the chair.
"Oh, come on now who do you think could have destroyed UNIT? Who do you think could have the knowhow to dismantle Torchwood?" O said as he walked forward, his one hand tap-dancing on the table the other stuffed in his pocket. "That old bird on Bannerman road was more difficult but you know the freelancers always are. But what trying starts, inevitable age and degradation finishes; bonus, I got her little dog, too. And of course if you were curious, I was the one that got your funding from A Charitable Earth cut…and the whole foundation audited and shut down, but Old Dot's a hard nut to crack, give me a few more months though, I'll get her as well…"
Martha turned and got to the door, but the door was locked. O was laughing. She spun around and glared at O as he walked towards her.
"Oh go on, for old time's sake, call me by my name…" O said as took a deep breath.
"Master-" Martha spat, glaring at him.
"That's a girl…" He pulled out a device from his pocket. "I've decided to go with a classic, I'm sure you've read the files. It's a-
"Tissue Compressor…" Martha growled as she tried to figure out how to disarm him.
"Good girl; you did your homework. I don't think I've actually ever used it on one of your lot before." The Master said as he pointed it at her. "It's nasty, but quiet and clean, which defeats the point of it being nasty, I suppose." The Master shrugged. "Eh, it's still nasty…." And he pushed the button. He leaned down and picked up the tiny figure from the ground. "Who's laughing at whom now?"
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AN: It's a fanfic…don't get your noses out of joint.
