The Capitol of Braxas was a story told across the galaxy. It was a metropolis, where planetary matters were settled on a daily basis. It was a city of art, a city of culture, and a city of opportunity; one of thousands dotting the cosmos. Braxas' Capitol was a story told across the universe, and that story was a story of death. Like so many others, it was host to one of thousands of Dalek skirmishes. This fight was particularly brutal, for it was not simply a massacre. The Daleks did not storm in, killing all in sight. Instead, they were met with something entirely new.
The Daleks had fought the Cybermen before, the latter never giving much resistance. They were as all others were; fuel for the Dalek war machine. Yet these Cybermen were different. Rumors of powers yet unseen floated on the air, abilities that the Cybermen were never capable of beforehand.
Entire buildings fell under the weight of their battles, skyscrapers toppling, as if scraps of paper in the harsh, uncaring wind. Underneath them, transports, parks, and citizens were crushed. A thick red cloud sat wrapped around the city, blotting out the sun. Those who were still alive hid in the ruins. It didn't help.
The Daleks found them wherever they hid, exterminating them with a terrifying efficiency. That same efficiency could be attributed to the Cybermen as they harvested the citizens, adding them to their cold army. They would take people, they would drag them away, and they would never be seen again.
Gab, a student at the Capitol University, was never one to stand idly by during a crisis. His parents had always stressed preparation in all things, and that had carried over into this scenario. He was a man of two worlds, a man of arithmetic and a man of art. It was the inherent patterns he found in both that he found fascinating.
The fact that the same idea across many mediums could create such beauty struck a chord in him. It was his eye for patterns that had kept him alive through all of this. He watched the Daleks and the Cybermen, scribbling out their patrol routes, waiting, watching, and recording. He planned meticulously, planning, and accounting for every possible variable in his little notebook.
However, something was bothering Gab. He could not quite place what it was. It was some new variable that was present, though he could not fully perceive it. He did not know it, but there was a new lamppost in the downtown square. Whenever his eyes fell on it, he felt as if it was always there; as if it had always belonged.
He was wrong of course, the lamppost had never been there before. He never paid it any mind, too busy with trying to keep himself alive. The Chameleon Circuit did its job, hiding the lamppost in plain sight. Inside, a lone Time Lord stood, scanning the cityscape. He was sent here on a covert mission, an instrument of destruction sent out on a simple scouting mission. Something was amiss, this much he knew.
He was a man of strong stature, resembling a human male in his mid-fourties. His head was smooth, completely bald. Tight ears hug the sides of his head. His eyes were full of anger and a tired desperation, sagging skin framing them. A long nose flanked by prominent cheek bones sat above tight lips. He kept a short beard, falling back on older habits. The Master always loved a good beard.
Strong fingers moved over his TARDIS console, making sure to keep his ship hidden in the midst of the combat. The center pillar wheezed expectantly, a soft green glow filling the room. He moved to a circular probe that was plugged into the console. He grabbed it, disconnecting it and tossed it into the air. It whirred to life, its small red eye lighting up.
"Greetings, Master!" The small probe chirped. "Orders?"
The Probe's voice was rather high and had a sing-song quality to it. It grated on The Master's ears.
"There's something odd that does not explicitly match Cyberman or Dalek signature to the southwest. You're going to accompany me there and take readings. It's something… different. Something I've never seen before. I intend to find out what it is."
There was a quality of childish joy to The Master's voice that the probe was not programmed to pick up. Despite this, The Master's voice was still cold, and carefully annunciated. He was as an actor on stage, the protagonist of his own personal tragedy.
The Master clapped once, the doors of his TARDIS obeying him. The harsh winds bent around the raised shield around his craft. From a coat rack next to the console, he grabbed a long velvet coat. It was black, matching his trousers and tie. He threw it over his shoulders, connecting the buckles across the chest. He secured his gloves and boots, the whine of leather ringing out, an indication of his success. He turned back to the console, reaching for a small rectangular device. He turned it on, the device softly humming. He placed it in his pocket.
"Old habits…" he muttered to himself.
"Stealth field." He said in a commanding tone.
A small emitter popped up from the top of the probe, starting to spin. It spun faster and faster, starting to give off subtle pulsations of energy in a two meter radius around it. The Master stepped inside, becoming hidden from both sensors and the visible spectrum. As he moved towards the door, he reached for a charcoal-colored scarf. He wrapped it around his neck, pulling it over his face, and exited the TARDIS.
"Scan begin." he said, moving through the wreckage.
He stepped carefully, navigating the torn streets and toppled buildings. Bodies were strewn about, piled up after being killed or harvested. Blood pooled in the streets, and the air was thick with the stench of rot. The Master was no stranger to this. Among the dead humans, Cyberman carcasses and destroyed Dalek casings sat; some burning, some melted, and some torn apart from the inside.
The Master's footfalls created ripples in the pools; bloody footprints followed in his wake. He stopped cold, the distinct sound of screams carrying on the wind catching his ears. Immediately after, his probe began beeping.
"Abnormal temporal readings detected, abnormal temporal readings detected!"
This gave The Master pause. Temporal readings? In a fight between the Cybermen and the Daleks? There must have been some other force present. The Cybermen had no access to such technology, and The Master would not have missed a Dalek Time Ship if it was present. This was something new.
"Temporal?" He hissed. "Show me! Show me now!"
The probe began floating towards the signature, The Master giving chase. Upon reaching the source, the two of them were faced with a downed hoverbus, with three humans trapped inside. The door had been fortified to keep all intruders out, but a lone Cyberman seemed intent on breaking through. It pounded on the door without relent.
The Master drew as close as he dared, moving next to the bus to get a closer look.
"Curious…" He whispered.
The Cyberman seemed to be at the peak of its development, the prominent shoulder pads, internal workings centered on the chest, and distinct head shape devoid of the large flashlight-like device. It was with those observations, any familiarity with what this Cyberman in front of him was, ended.
There was something else about it, something that was different from any Cyberman The Master had ever seen before. He squinted, trying to make it out. The Cyberman was covered in what appeared to be static, as if being viewed through a broken video monitor. It seemed as if it was there, yet it seemed as if it was not. The color was also wrong. The regular silver color was tinged purple. It was a collection of subtle things all adding to one large oddity.
The humans, who appeared to be some sort of family, were completely unremarkable. The only thing of note about them was the fact that they were somehow alive after all this time. The Cyberman continued to pound on the door, the barrier somehow holding. It was then, the Cyberman spoke. Its voice was unlike any that The Master had ever heard, sounding like a poorly tuned radio.
"Inside. Your. Head."
What happened next surprised even The Master, as the Cyberman began fading from view, dematerializing before his eyes.
"Curiouser and curiouser…" The Master remarked to himself.
Before he could take any further action, his probe began beeping again.
"Temporal energy spike! Temporal energy spike!" The Cyberman quite suddenly rematerialized inside the bus, cornering the humans.
"History. Weeping."
One of the men, the father, ran at the Cyberman, a show of pointless bravado. As he uselessly lashed out at it, the Cyberman slapped him aside, snapping his neck instantly. At the sight of the crumpled body, the mother wrapped her arms around her son. The Cyberman took great strides forward, the screaming of the humans ringing out. From the outside of the bus, all The Master saw was the splash of blood and brain matter against the interior window.
"What does it mean..?" No sooner had The Master spoke, the Cyberman dematerialized leaving the broken bodies behind.
Everything fell quiet when it disappeared, as if all sound had been stolen away. When it vanished, something began to well up from within The Master. Hairs on the back of his neck stood up right. Another sound began ringing through the air, akin to metal dragging slowly across more metal. It was the sound of a Dalek flying through the air.
The damned thing had obviously been brought over by the abnormal energy signature, and landed immediately in front of him. He froze, not daring to move. Dozens of possible situations ran through his mind. There were seven out of all of them where he could escape with his life, two of which where he would not be grievously wounded, and one out of those two where he would make it back to his TARDIS.
Even that plan had to many variables, and this Dalek was already too close. It rolled towards him, unaware of his presence. Its eyestalk craned about, scanning the area. Could he risk blasting the Dalek? The discharge may draw more Daleks to him. They were slithering about in the woodwork, just below the surface.
"RECENTLY EXTERMINATED HUMAN SIGNATURES DETECTED." The Dalek bellowed, The Master wincing.
Beads of sweat began to run down his face as he stood still, having no desire to leave the stealth field.
"TEMPORAL DISCHARGE DETECTED." The Dalek screamed. So, The Master thought, it could sense it too.
The Dalek inched closer and closer, The Master not moving. The subtle displacements in the air due to his very standing there would be enough to alert it if he wasn't careful. He cursed himself for not reaching for a weapon sooner.
It was inches from his face now, close enough that he could stare directly into its eyestalk. He could see the harsh blue glow emanating from its eye shift and twist, as if trying to focus on him. His hand trembled slightly, taking all he had to reach for something.
Quite suddenly, the Dalek's eye went dark.
"EMERGENCY. EMERGENCY. I CANNOT SEE!"
From the inside of the casing, there was a great and terrible gurgling sound, the Dalek inside obviously in distress. Its casing was being dented outwards with great metal bang, something trying to punch its way out. The Dalek let out one final scream of agony that seemed to shake the ground before the hand of a Cyberman, still covered in the blood of the human, burst out of the casing and grabbed The Master by the throat.
The Cyberman burst out of the Dalek, its static aura still evident. It lifted The Master into the air.
"Unhand me, damn yo- ARGH!" The Master was cut short by a violent electric shock erupting from the Cyberman's fingertips, still wrapped around his throat.
It kept him suspended off the ground, staring deep into his eyes. Their eyes were not dissimilar, both cold and dead – but there was no understanding between these two, no covenant to honor. There was only life or death. Its cold fingers voraciously closed around his throat, threatening to snap his neck.
"Taking. Time. Apart."
The Master's vision began to blur, nothing but the sound of drums remaining.