Chapter Text
There are many planets throughout the universe. Swampy marshes, Iron Age reminiscent ones, ice giants… all sorts. And there’s a decent chance life could be found out there, and in many varying flavours. Of course, there is another category. Deserted worlds that exist outside of time itself. Take for example… Zylock. A stormy desert world with a hundred terrible legacies surrounding it. It has earned the reputation of being a destination of no return, as proven by the thousands of shipwrecks left by those who tried to navigate through the asteroids and perpetual darkness. It’s said to be where Time Lords fear to tread. And with good reason, for here lies the prison of their most reviled citizen.
So why was the sound of a certain power craving megalomaniac heard across the deserts? Why was the Master, a man who was by all extents insane, daring to brave the horrors of Zylock, to find its sole inhabitant, besides the Weeping Angels that thrive here? The answer is, the by-product of his last encounter with the Doctor. After his failed attempt to steal their identity, his body was beginning to disintegrate. Even now, he was beginning to resemble his earlier deformed incarnation in which he tried to renew himself at the cost of Gallifrey. He glared up as he began to walk the harsh sands, rubbing one hand across his cheek and burning off a few lines of flesh. He gave an uncomfortable grunt. This is his best option to renew himself. The sole inhabitant of this wasteland had experience with revitalising himself, after all. Even if the means of doing so made him a danger to every Time Lord in existence, the Master included. But one finds one is not so picky when their life is on the line. Suddenly, the smell of burning wood shot up his nostrils. That could be a good sign. Where wood burns, a campfire is the most logical conclusion to be drawn. And where there’s a campfire…
He was right. A few more hours walking north and he’d found him, surrounded by five Angels. To some, this man was a hermit. The uncut hair and the violently untamed beard say that well. His unwashed clothes, consisting of a white vest and black pants torn just above the ankles spoke that as well. The Master gave a cough. The man looked at him, the inhumanly pale skin glistening in the moonlight, and the icy glint of this body’s eyes even unnerved the renegade Time Lord.
“Koschei.” The exile gave a soft chuckle. “It has been a while since the Academy.”
“A pleasantly long time at that, Religard. I see your new abilities haven’t changed your old trademarks.”
“A body may change upon death… but there are some consistencies from body to body. Me? Only number seven. But you, Koschei?” The Master claimed he’d lost count. “Meh, half the fun is counting them! But…” Religard stood up slowly, hunching over slightly as he picked up a large piece of wood he was using as a walking stick. “We should talk. Don’t mind my friends, they’re quite quantum locked at the moment. Not a lot to say for themselves, like talking to a stone statue sometimes… But in its broadest sense… I get the feeling you haven’t come to my world just for a chat with an old friend?”
“Would you believe me if I had?”
“There is only so much to be believed, Koschei.”
“Then fine.” The Master removed his hood. His face was rotting back into a skull quicker than he had thought. Religard only seemed repulsed for a moment, before remembering he’d seen worse, and gave a creepy chuckle. It was clear he knew why the Master had sought him out.
“You’re dying. And you remembered I have a way to hold back death… thanks to our friend… the Doctor?” The Master quietly asked his contemporary not to mention that name, and Religard chuckled again. “You want to know my secret?”
“I can promise you an enteral meal of arton energy in exchange for your secret.” Religard gave a long, disturbing stare, before breaking into a sinister laugh. The Master’s blood ran cold in his veins.
“You forget what fuels me now… the Doctor made me into this new form… he made me need the regenerative energies of others to live! I’m so glad you came for me, Koschei… for now, I feed for the first time in forever!” Religard leapt at the Master with full force, aiming his creepily long fingers for his head. The Master tried to defend himself, but no. The TCE had gotten caught in his pocket. It would take too long to free!
“Wait… let’s be reasonable about this, Religard… there is another reason why I came here! The prophecy!” This seemingly intrigued Religard long enough to make him calm down. At the very least, he seemed willing to hear his old friend out. He asked what the Master wanted, pointing out there are numerous prophecies spouted by the Matrix. The Master resecured his attention with the cryptic phrase “Timebreaker”. Religard listened to his old friend, his creepy eyes growing ever larger. The prophecy that a child would be born who can control time with a mere thought, without the need for the usual requirements? A child who would lead the next generations of the universe into a glorious new age? If he wants to find this child… that is an ambition. While Religard was among the few Time Lords who weren’t called into service during the Time War, he was completely aware of it. And if this child survived the war, the feast they would provide would be far more satisfying than any amount of energy he would gain from Koschei! He gave a devious grin.
“And you want my help to find this Timebreaker?”
“It could be my best chance! The child is said to have an automatically renewing regeneration cycle as well as the fabled time powers, so they can oversee the future generations being led to greatness. That sort of power would prolong my life long enough to bring the Doctor down with me!”
“And both will also satisfy my hunger for the best part of eternity… if I could feed on them, the initial boost will supply me for years, and then I could hunt for others by using their powers!” Religard licked his lips ravenously. The Master nervously put out a hand.
“Will you help me?” Religard leant in uncomfortably close and whispered:
“It would be my pleasure.”