Terry tossed the folder onto the table.
He cleared his throat.
He screechingly pulled his chair out to sit in it.
He pressed 'record'.
He looked at his watch, and began speaking in a lax, distracted manner.
"Interview commenced 18:37. Present is the suspect Doctor John Smith a.k.a. 'the Doctor', officers present DC Perkins and DC Masters. The suspect has waived his right to legal representation."
"I'm sorry," the Doctor interrupted from the other side of the table. "But what did you just say?"
Terry glared at him, not in the mood. "You just told us you didn't want a brief."
"No, I didn't mean that part. What did you say your name was?"
"DC Terry Perkins."
"And yours?" said the Doctor, turning to the other officer.
"DC Jo Masters."
The Doctor pondered for a moment. "Are you making fun of me, madam? Sir?"
The officers exchanged sidelong glances. "Now why would we do that?" asked Terry.
"You don't see the humour in the name 'Jo Masters'?"
"Nope," said Terry, shifting his jaw.
Jo folded her arms, amused. "What's so funny about it?"
The Doctor stood up to rub his neck.
"Would you sit back down please, Doctor Smiff," warned Terry.
"I need to think—"
"Doctor, can you sit back down," said Jo firmly.
"Oh, very well," said the Doctor, and he sat. "Look, I arrived here with my companion Jo Grant in search of a man calling himself 'the Master'. Are you telling me your name is mere coincidence?"
"Yeah," said Jo. "I am. Here."
She reached into her pocket and brought out her warrant card. The Doctor examined it carefully. "Well I admit, it looks real enough. As do you. Regeneration, I expect. Or did you finally find a way to parasitise the bodies of innocent Tellurians?"
Jo cocked her head at him, unsure how to respond. She looked at Terry, who shrugged. She looked back at the Doctor, and "Innocent Tellurians?" were the only words that came out before the Doctor spoke again.
"I see. So may I ask what you were doing earlier today, in the vicinity of the Harrow Road warehouse?"
Jo scoffed in surprise. "I think you'll find, Doctor, that it's me who should be asking that of you."
"Oh? Afraid it would make things awkward for you with your colleague here? I'm sure you could make short work of him if he found out too much."
"Listen, mate," grumped Terry. "You're the suspect and we ask the questions. You got that?"
The Doctor eyed them both carefully. "Yes. I've seen this kind of thing before, Perkins. Concentrate, man. Fight it. You don't have to do as she says, you are free to choose."
The Doctor snapped his fingers twice in rapid succession close to Terry's face. Terry grabbed them. He held them in his hand, and said, annoyed, "I know."
"Terry," warned Jo.
Terry let go.
The Doctor gave him a knowing look, and Terry scowled.
"So tell me, Doctor," said Jo more temperately. "I'm interested. Exactly what is it you're accusing me of?"
"Well if you are who I suspect you are, arson, to begin with. And murder, undoubtedly. But only in the service of a much more serious crime."
"And what's that?"
"Enslavement. Of the human race."
Terry squinted at him. Jo continued. "You'll have to excuse my ignorance, Doctor, but if I've done that, how is it that we're all still walking around free?"
"You haven't achieved it yet, because I temporarily disabled your recursion loop generator. And even if you did succeed, the human race would still be walking around. But they most certainly wouldn't be free - they'd be dead in the mind. Brain-dead servants to your unquenchable thirst for power."
Terry and Jo nodded for a moment.
"Barking," muttered Terry.
"Yep," said Jo.
"I think you've got the wrong, er, man," said Terry.
"Just who is it that you think I am, Doctor?"
Jo's pale eyes were inquisitive and open, genuinely curious. The Doctor looked at her for a long time. His furrowed brow gradually shifted to apologetic amusement. He sighed. "Yes. For a moment I really did believe it."
"Believe what?"
"That you were the Master."
Jo shrugged, prompting for more.
"An old friend. Now my deadliest enemy."
"A close friend?"
"Yes, once upon a time. We were students together, among other things."
"Until he got stuck on turnin people into zombies with his insatiable lust for power?"
The Doctor's smiling mouth behind his steepled fingers spoke a quiet, "Yes. Actually, more often homunculus than zombies, but you've got the right idea."
"But how did you mistake me for 'im? I imagine I don't much match his description."
"No," agreed the Doctor. "Now that would be rather difficult to explain. And I'm not sure we have sufficient time, my dear."
Terry, meanwhile, was chewing a fingernail. "Look, Doctor," he said. "Before this interview goes any further I think it would do us all a world of good if we was to schedule you a session with the borough forensic psychiatrist."
The Doctor raised his head defensively. "I assure you, sir, there is nothing amiss with my psyche."
"I beg to differ," said Terry. "And I ain't arguing. Jo?"
Jo, after a little while, nodded agreement.
"Right," said Terry. "Interview terminated at 18:43. Come on, Doctor. You're going back to your cell."
