Chapter 3
Rassilon seemed pleased when the Master entered this time.
"I trust you've had time to acclimate to your new self?" Rassilon inquired in a civil tone.
"I'm doing ok, yes," the Master confirmed noncommittally. "Although you've certainly dealt me an interesting hand."
Rassilon squinted, momentarily confused by the reference. "I have a task for you," he said then.
"What kind of task?" the Master asked cautiously.
"One which utilizes your unique skill set," Rassilon said. "And one which the Doctor wouldn't approve of." His eyes glittered, snakelike.
The Master regarded the President dubiously, unsure of what he would be getting into... Or what he would be getting out of this bargain. Having President Rassilon owe him a favor would clearly have its advantages... Especially since the Doctor never seemed to bother with that sort of thing.
The Master had always carefully cultivated relationships with those in power.
Giving Rassilon what he wanted would be a good starting point to a solid working alliance.
But he'd need a lot more information before he agreed to embark on some unnamed mission.
This wasn't just any war. It was the Last Great Time War.
Rassilon could be sending him into anything.
He had to look out for himself, after all.
"Why do you hesitate?" Rassilon asked, his tone goading. "Do you need to wait for the Doctor's permission?"
The Master straightened up, offended. "No," he glared. "He's not in charge of me."
"So?" Rassilon smiled.
The Master quickly compiled a list of questions to ask about this unspecified "task". But Rassilon was drumming his fingers, impatient for a response.
One two three four.
It was distracting... And oddly catchy.
The Master found himself tapping along to the rhythm, his hearts synchronizing to the beat.
The questions faded and everything suddenly became so much simpler.
This was the President. And Gallifrey was at War.
They must win, whatever the cost.
That was why he was here.
To win.
The beat went quiet, leaving clarity in its wake.
He didn't need answers or information or promises of reimbursement.
All he needed were orders.
"What did you have in mind?" the Master asked.
And Rassilon smiled.
Wow, this chapter ended up so short... I stand by it, though.