Guys, I'm really sorry about this. [facepalm]
Chapter 4
The Master used his key to open the TARDIS door, happy to be home.
He was exhausted but the mission had been a complete success. Though he'd had to improvise a bit there at the end...
Still, Rassilon would be pleased.
And the Daleks had lost a key strategic position.
In short, the Master was thoroughly satisfied with himself.
The Doctor was pacing around the Console as the Master entered. He ran forward, his expression deeply worried.
"Where were you?" he demanded urgently. He caught sight of the state the Master was in and went down on one knee, reaching forward tentatively to take the Master's arms. "Oh, no... Are you alright?"
The Master glanced down at his blood-soaked clothes and laughed at the mess. "It's not mine," he smirked, drunk on victory.
The Doctor's face fell. "Whose?" he asked quietly.
"I didn't get their names," the Master quipped, examining the multitude of bloodstains on his suit.
The Doctor's arms dropped to his sides and he seemed to age several decades. When he looked the Master in the eye again his expression held such disappointment.
It stung like antiseptic on an open wound.
The Master's temper bristled.
The Doctor should be thanking him. Congratulating him.
All of Gallifrey should.
Why was the Doctor always ruining his moments of triumph?
"Don't look at me like that," the Master snapped.
"What did you do?" the Doctor asked hollowly.
"What needed to be done," the Master said with a sneer. "What, you thought we could win the War with hugs and please and thank you?" he mocked. The words seemed to have no effect. "This is what I'm here for," the Master reminded him. "To do the things you won't."
"What did you do?" the Doctor asked again, as if he hadn't even been listening. "Tell me." His gaze traveled back to the Master's crimson-soaked shirt, the red-brown mud caking his boots. "That isn't Dalek blood."
"No," the Master confirmed matter-of-factly. "It isn't. We're not just fighting the Daleks, you know." How could the Doctor still not understand this? No wonder they hadn't won the War yet. "They have allies. And potential allies. Although a few less of those after today," he grinned.
The Doctor's eyes went wide and he stood. For several moments he was frozen in place. Then he reached forward to grab his friend but the Master danced out of the way, laughing.
The Doctor caught his arm. "Stop it, this isn't a game," he said sternly.
The Master grinned at him and reached up to pat the Doctor's cheek with a blood-stained hand. "Not with that attitude."
The Doctor jerked his head away with a flash of disgust. "Why did you do this?" the Doctor asked. "Did someone ask you to do this?"
The Master glowered, not liking the implication that he shouldn't get full credit for his victory.
"It was Rassilon, wasn't it?" the Doctor realized. "He called me away so he could send you off on some despicable assignment. He sent you to kill those people for him."
The Master glared at his friend. "He didn't send me to kill anyone. He just told me to take care of the situation. He let me decide how that should be accomplished. He trusts me, Doctor," the Master said pointedly. "To do things my way. Which is more than I can say for you."
The Doctor held him by both his arms and looked him in the eye. "He's using you," the Doctor said earnestly.
"So?" the Master retorted cynically. "Aren't we all?"
The Doctor stared at him sadly and shook his head. "No," he said.
Something pricked at the Master like needles as the Doctor looked at him, so sad and sincere. Something emotional, unexpected, difficult to understand.
He didn't like it.
He shook off the Doctor's grip and backed away. "We're closer to winning the War today. Because of me," he told the Doctor. "Grow up and learn to live with that."
And he left to go clean himself up.
Once he'd washed all the blood off, he got himself a snack and came back to the Console room. He slumped dramatically down onto the couch but the gesture was wasted, as the Doctor was nowhere in sight. The Master shrugged and lay back, knees in the air.
"Cartoons, please," he said to the TARDIS.
She turned on the screen without saying anything.
"What, you're not talking to me either?" he asked.
She didn't answer and he couldn't make her, so he left it there.
It was a while before the Doctor showed up. He walked back in from outside, surprising the Master, who hadn't realized he'd left.
"Where were you?" the Master asked.
The Doctor didn't respond. He just walked wordlessly into the TARDIS corridors without even glancing in his friend's direction.
The Master pulled a face which may have involved sticking out his tongue and went back to his cartoons. No one could sulk quite like the Doctor... But he'd get over it.
He always did... Eventually.
It was a few hours later that the Master heard the whirring of a motor. A strangely-shaped metal machine rolled into the Console room.
The Master sat up, staring at it in bafflement.
"Greetings," the robot said in an obnoxiously know-it-all voice.
"What the hell is that doing here?" the Master asked no one in particular.
"Language," the Doctor chided, appearing behind the robot. "This is K-9. Say hello, K-9."
"Customary salutations have already been exchanged," the robot said.
"Oh, good," the Doctor smiled. "Well? What do you think?"
The Master had hopped down and was circling the robot suspiciously. He'd seen a couple of these before. This one was unmistakably new. Freshly assembled, the smell of solder still lingering around it.
He glanced at the Doctor. His friend had that look he got when he'd done something especially stupid and was very happy about it.
"You made this?" the Master asked. "Just now?"
"Yes," the Doctor grinned. "It's K-9! Well, K-9 Mark V, to be precise."
"You've made five of these?" the Master muttered incredulously, leaning forward to stare at its red eye panel.
He'd had passing interactions with a couple of other models.
The design had hardly changed at all... And was even more ridiculous than he remembered.
The robot twitched the scanning dishes on its head which looked remarkably like ears. It had an antenna for a tail and text reading K-9 on the side in the large, blocky lettering so popular around the time of the Great Breakout.
And it had a collar. Which seemed to serve no purpose other than to be a collar.
"A dog, Doctor?" the Master exclaimed disapprovingly. "Why do we need a robot dog?"
The Doctor smiled, absurdly moving to pet the robot. Even more absurdly, the robot responded by wagging its tail. "Yes! Isn't he wonderful?"
The Master made a dubious face. Wonderful wasn't the word he had been thinking of.
"Come on," the Doctor said enthusiastically. "Haven't you always wanted a dog?"
"No," the Master said. "That was you." The Doctor had always wanted a pet. The Master hadn't ever felt the need himself. His hands had always been full enough with the Doctor. "What's he for?"
"This unit has multiple capabilities," the robot answered.
"Hmph," the Master grunted. "Helpful answers clearly not being one of them."
"K-9 is going to keep an eye on you," the Doctor said.
The Master narrowed his eyes and stared at his friend. The Doctor was serious. And there was a crafty look in his eyes which the Master had learned over the centuries not to underestimate.
It seemed there was a new game afoot.
"K-9," the Doctor addressed the robot, "this is the Master. Watch him."
A little sucker antenna extended from the eye panel and the ears whirred back and forth. The Master stood, arms crossed, glaring at his friend as the robot scanned him.
"Biodata assimilated," the robot announced after a minute. "Instructions understood. Monitor juvenile Time Lord self-identifying as 'the Master.'"
"And protect him," the Doctor added, something unreadable in his expression.
"Affirmative," K-9 confirmed with a nod.
"So, this thing is just going to follow me around?" the Master said after a moment.
"Yes," the Doctor replied. "He's very useful, though," he hastened to add.
The Master looked askance at the unwanted gift. "He's annoying."
"Oh, give him a chance," the Doctor pouted, "he grows on you."
"We'll see about that," the Master muttered dubiously, examining the machine again. Useful, the Doctor had said. The Master shuddered to think which features the Doctor considered useful. "I hope you've made some improvements over the last models," he muttered.
"What?" the Doctor blinked.
The Master shot him a look. "Speed, battery life... Attitude."
The Doctor started forward, looking about as angry as this Doctor ever got under normal circumstances. That is, mildly displeased. "Now, hold on a minute! K-9 is a state-of-the-art, precision device with powerful computing capabilities and -"
"Is it even armed?" the Master asked disgustedly, cutting off what promised to be a rambling list of features.
The muzzle of a blaster appeared from the dog's mouth.
"Ooh!" the Master rubbed his hands together and leaned closer. "Ok, now we're talking... K-9, tell me about your weaponry."
K-9's ears whirred. "Photon beam with five levels of intensity," the dog declared proudly, "from simple electric shock to kill. I have also been upgraded with new, Dalek-effective capabilities."
"Nice," the Master grinned.
"It's just for defense," the Doctor said, sounding vaguely worried.
"Proactive defense?" the Master asked sneakily.
"That's called offense," the Doctor pointed out, brushing one hand over his forehead wearily.
"I know," the Master grinned. "Just checking you were paying attention."
The Doctor gave him a long, sideways look.
The Master glanced around, waiting impatiently for the Doctor to say whatever it was he was thinking.
"What?" he asked eventually.
"Nothing," the Doctor smiled.
The Master eyed him suspiciously. He had the distinct and familiar impression that the Doctor was laughing at him.
"Play nice, you two," the Doctor said. He moved towards the other side of the Console but reached down at the last second to ruffle the Master's perfectly-combed hair.
The Master snarled in frustration and struck out at the Doctor, missing completely, much to the Doctor's obvious amusement.
The Master turned to K-9. "Hey, if I told you to, would you shoot him every time he does that?"
K-9's ears twitched. "Negative," he said.
"Just on the shock setting. Just to teach him a lesson," the Master coaxed. He glared at this smiling friend. "He's clearly never been trained."
"Negative," K-9 repeated. "No instructions received regarding the importance of juvenile Time Lord's hair."
The Doctor laughed aloud.
The Master scrambled to his feet, irate. "Useless," he muttered angrily, stomping off to his room to fix his hair. He threw his arms into the air in an impatient gesture. "Surrounded by useless idiots!"
He could hear the Doctor chuckling behind him as he left.
Ok, I'm much less sorry about how this chapter ended.