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After the Fall

Summary:

After refusing to regenerate into Missy, the Master for the second time manages to regenerate back into his own face, just as the Tenth Doctor once did. Fueled by rage and a thirst for vengeance, he returns to Gallifrey to seek revenge on those who exiled him, sabotaged his TARDIS and cast him into a black hole.

But what he finds instead is devastation. Gallifrey lies in ruins. Believing the Doctor has destroyed it once again, the Master sets out to find him. His search leads him to a high-security prison, where he finds the Thirteenth Doctor held captive. In exchange for the answers he desperately seeks, the Master breaks the Doctor out and the two of them begin traveling together aboard his TARDIS.

Will the Master find the truth he's looking for?
Will the Doctor reject him, again?
Or will she faced with a early version of her old friend finally give him another chance?

For the Saxon Master, it all begins after The Doctor Falls.
For the Doctor, it begins after The Timeless Children.

Notes:

I dedicate this story to all Thoschei fans—especially to those who love 13/Simm. I know there aren't many of us, but I truly love this pairing.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

Master pressed the button on the elevator and let himself collapse onto its cold metallic floor. He was laughing—loud, breathless, wild laughter that echoed off the claustrophobic walls as the elevator descended. His body ached; every molecule burned with pain, yet he couldn’t stop laughing. The absurdity of it all, the cruel comedy of fate—it was killing him. And once again, as he died, he was winning.

Yes, the Doctor may have succeeded in turning his female version to his side, but it wouldn't save him. Not really. Because Master had defeated the Doctor, even if it meant suicide. Twice.

Suicide.

His laughter slowly began to fade. The elevator came to a halt.

Master dragged himself out, stumbling into the corridor, his hands clinging to the walls for balance. The pain was unbearable. He could feel the raw atron energy oozing from his pores, pulsing in his chest like molten lava. Cybermen stood in his way—sentinels of his own creation, but he struck them down without hesitation. Sparks flew; one crumpled to the floor with a crash, another exploded from the inside as he tore through it. There was no grace to it, only the primal force of survival. He had to reach his TARDIS. That was all that mattered.

“Again woman. Always women,” he muttered bitterly through clenched teeth.

Dying didn’t bother him anymore. If there were galactic records for resurrection, he’d have broken them centuries ago. But dying by the hands of his own future self, for the Doctor, that—that broke him. Both his hearts ached, hollow and bruised.

The truth he didn’t want to admit was this: he was jealous of Missy. Of himself. His future self. Because Missy had managed to do everything he had once dreamed of and failed to achieve. She had won the Doctor’s trust. She had laughed at cartoons beside him. She had traveled with him.

But when he had saved the Doctor’s life, when he had turned on Rassilon and fought tooth and claw for the Doctor’s sake, the Doctor hadn’t even bothered to come back for him. Hadn’t even looked. That pain—that abandonment—burned deeper than any weapon.

But worst of all, what truly shattered him… was that the Doctor had turned him against himself. Missy had chosen the Doctor. Not him. The Doctor never chose him—never had. Always the others. Always someone else.

Then why, why did he always choose the Doctor? Even at the cost of his own life?

With these thoughts spiraling in his mind, he stumbled into his TARDIS. The door opened at once, recognizing his biometrics and his nearing death. The console room flared with red warning lights. The ship groaned with distress, the humming core sending pulses like a worried heartbeat. She was trying to reach him, to help him.

Master clutched the console for balance, breathing raggedly. He reached for the dematerialization controls, setting a random course. Anywhere but here. All that remained now was to flee... and regenerate.

But he refused.

The man who had been laughing minutes ago was now sitting on the floor beside the console, weeping. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to let go of this body. He loved this face. This voice. This man he had become. But more than that—he didn’t want to become her. Didn’t want to become Missy. Didn’t want to face a future where he would have to kill himself.

“Always women…” he whispered, tears streaking his face. He cried harder—not from pain, but from rage, like a child denied his favorite toy.

Missy might have been his end. She’d taken a full blast from his laser screwdriver—every last drop of energy. Part of him whispered that he had survived worse, risen from darker pits. But what if this time… it had really worked? What if there was no regeneration?

That thought chilled him to the bone.

“No,” he growled, forcing himself upright. “Missy won't be my end. I’m the Master. I’m a Time Lord. I control my own destiny. I control time. I won't become her. I want to be me again. I’m not ready to say goodbye to this face.”

Channeling the raging atron energy building within him, he aimed it inward—then released it outward, crafting a paradox. A rupture in the timeline. Just like the Tenth Doctor once had. And through it, he regenerated. But not into Missy.

Back into himself. Into Saxon.

“I think… I did it,” he whispered in disbelief and stumbled toward the mirror.

There he was. His own face. His own smirk. He touched his chest—still flat. Then, hesitating, reached between his legs—still intact.

A wicked grin spread across his face, followed by laughter. Loud, delirious, triumphant laughter. He spun around the console like a madman reborn.

“I did it. Missy can rot. So can the Doctor. I win. Again.”

But beneath that victory was a pulse of fear. He could feel it—he knew. Something had changed. The paradox had altered the flow of time. Something was wrong. Something was off. If he wasn’t careful, he might be erased entirely.

He needed information. Answers. And there was only one place to get them: the Matrix.

Gallifrey.

He could slip in, as he had before. Infiltrate the system, extract what he needed. And while he was there, perhaps settle a few old scores. If he couldn’t kill Rassilon, he could at least destroy those who’d served him—who’d tortured him, exiled him, sabotaged his dematerialization matrix and cast him into a black hole.

A little blood after a resurrection never hurt.

With that, he locked in the coordinates. Gallifrey. But just to be safe, he set the TARDIS to land three years into the future.

The TARDIS materialized—though perhaps “emerged” was the better word—on what should have been Gallifrey. Or rather, what remained of it. The moment the engines stilled and the humming died, a sickening silence settled over the console room.

Master glanced at the monitor.

And froze.

No. No, this couldn’t be right.

With a strangled gasp, he stumbled out of the TARDIS, boots crunching against ashen soil. A burnt, copper-tinted sky stretched above him, eerily quiet. The once-majestic city was nothing more than a skeleton of itself—jagged remnants of towers pierced the sky like broken fingers clawing upward, and the streets were buried beneath rubble and dust.

He staggered forward, breath catching in his throat. The Citadel… was gone. The Capitol Dome, shattered. The High Council’s spires—obliterated. He beamed himself to the city center. Still nothing. No movement, no breath, no presence. Not a single life form registered. Not even the faintest trace of Time Lord essence.

He redirected the TARDIS to several old coordinates: his father's estate—razed to the ground. The Doctor's old home—gone without a trace. The Academy—reduced to rubble. Everything he had ever known, despised, or grudgingly loved… vanished.

The silence was worse than any scream.

His hearts clenched.

He had wanted Gallifrey to burn, once. Had fantasized about it, raged against it. But not like this. Never like this. Because, deep down, it was still his. His home. His people.

And someone had erased them.

Only one name echoed in his mind, though he desperately tried to force it away. One being powerful, reckless, and broken enough to destroy it all.

His lips curled back with a trembling snarl as he raised his face to the dead orange sky, voice ragged and raw with fury.

“DOCTOR!”

Chapter 2: Revolution of the Daleks. Part 1.

Summary:

The Master is breaking the Doctor out of prison.

Chapter Text

79 Billion Light Years Away

The cell was carved directly into the cold, lifeless asteroid rock, as if someone had chiselled it from the void itself. Walls glistened faintly with minerals that never saw daylight. The laser bars across the window hummed softly, casting pale red lines across the floor like silent, motionless guards.

She was alone. Not just in the cell. In the universe.

The Doctor marked the new day with another scratch on the jagged stone wall — one of many. Too many. So many, she’d lost count once or twice, but always corrected herself. Time still mattered. She had to make it matter. Even here. Even now.

Her meal transmatted in with a sterile whine and a brief shimmer of blue light. The food was always the same. No taste, no texture — just sustenance. She barely noticed it anymore.

“Urgh...”

The exercise symbol blinked to life. A crude, flashing humanoid figure, faceless and without meaning — like her, maybe. She sighed and rose, her joints aching from stillness. The corridor awaited, featureless, but familiar, lit by a dull white glow that never changed.

She followed the arrows as they lit up in succession, trying not to think. But that was impossible. That’s all she could do now: think. Remember.

“Morning, camera 37. Morning, camera 38.” said Doctor.

The cameras didn’t reply, of course. But in a strange way, they were her only company. Eyes that watched. Like his eyes always did. So bright. So maddening.

She stepped through the security door into the open area. Rows of individual containment fields flickered with energy, separating each prisoner like ghosts trapped in electric jars.

“Morning, Angela.”

She blinked deliberately. The Weeping Angel had moved again, face twisted in that eternal scream. But it was old now. Predictable. No threat when you had nowhere to run.

“All right, Bonnie and Clyde?”

The Ood bowed their heads slightly. Always polite. Always silent. Once, she might’ve tried to talk to them — maybe even free them. But not now. Now she barely had the will to speak to herself.

“Tiny! How many times? You can't eat the cage. Believe me, I've tried.”

The Pting chirped in frustration, gnawing once more at the energy field. It reminded her, strangely, of herself. Restless. Trapped. Starving for something it couldn’t quite name.

She returned to her cell. The lights dimmed, humming toward silence.

Alone again.

Her back against the stone wall, knees drawn up. Her hearts were too loud in this silence.

They thudded with grief. And guilt.

Gallifrey.

Gone. Again. Reduced to smoke and memory and the Master’s laughter ringing in her ears. He’d destroyed them all the Time Lords, the Citadel, the Vaults, the children erased it all in flames and spite.

And the truth. The truth.

That her life, her origin, was a lie. That she wasn’t even Time Lord-born. That she was something... else.

A foundling. A weapon.

How could she trust anything now, if her very being was a fabrication?

She closed her eyes. Tried to think of Earth. Of Yaz. Of Ryan. Of Graham’s warm eyes, and Donna’s fierce heart. Of Rose, of Martha, of Amy, of Clara, of Bill... River.

But her thoughts — always — spun back to him.

To the Master.

She remembered the Academy. To the stolen days in the Academy, racing through libraries and forbidden towers. The way he used to smile when no one else was looking. The way they used to talk of reshaping the universe, not yet enemies, not yet broken, just the two of them, younger, untouched by war or destiny.

They'd just left a lecture — something about paradoxes, she couldn’t even remember the topic. But he had said something clever, and she'd laughed, really laughed.

They stayed behind in the corridor a little longer than they should have.

He leaned against the wall. She stood too close. The silence grew comfortable, then heavy. Then something else.

She looked up. He didn’t look away.

And then — just like that — he kissed her.

Soft. Quick. A little unsure.

But she kissed him back.

And for one brief, brilliant moment... it was simple.

Before everything became impossible.

The war changed them. The drums changed him.

And yet, she missed him.

Hated him.

Longed for him.

Because he knew her. The way no one else ever had. Or ever would.

Because part of her, buried so deep it ached to admit — loved him. Still. Always.

But another part — the other heart — wanted to see him burn.

She buried her face in her hands. The cell was colder now. Her breath misted faintly in the dimness.

But what haunted her more than all the death and fire... was the silence that followed.

An entire species, gone. Her people. Her rivals. Her mentors. Her childhood. All turned to cinders by his hand.

And yet—

It wasn’t Gallifrey she missed the most.

It was him.

She'd never said it aloud — not to anyone, not even herself, not fully. But now, in this cell, with only buzzing lights and cold walls to listen, the truth pressed against her from within like a scream lodged in a bottle.

She was afraid.

Not of the Master. But of his absence.

The thought of a universe where his voice would never cut through her like a blade again — where his gaze, fierce and mocking and too full of memory, would never find hers — it chilled her deeper than the asteroid’s stone ever could.

Could she really exist... without him? Without that terrible, magnetic pull? Without the mirror that reminded her who she was or who she wasn't?

What if she got out, finally broke free and he was gone?

What if he really had died this time?

Would she be... free?

Or just empty?

She covered her face with her hands, fingernails biting into her scalp. Two hearts thudded, uncertain which rhythm to follow. One pulled toward grief. The other — toward longing.

Her mind drifted, despite herself, across centuries.

Back to the red skies of Gallifrey, before the hatred, before the war, before they’d even chosen their names.

And she had wanted... him. Or maybe she had just wanted to keep him. From falling. From burning.

She failed.

And she’d been failing ever since.

She exhales, trying to shake the memories off. But they cling like ash.

“Bedtime story, Doctor? Yes, please, Doctor. One of the classics? Ooo, yes, please. Settle down, then.
(from memory) "Mister and Mrs Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal..."

Her voice trembled with the memory. How many times had she read those words to children, to companions, to herself in darker times?

But now even fairy tales felt heavy. Like echoes of a life she no longer believed in. Banging on the wall.

She jerked upright.

“What? Who's there?”

Her hearts slammed in her chest.

A prisoner? A voice? A ghost?

Or just the echo of herself?

“Stay strong. People are waiting for you.”

Her voice was a whisper now. A prayer. A reminder. Not just for others. For herself.

Because if she forgot who she was... if she forgot why she kept going...

Then the Master had already won.

And she refused to give him that.

Not yet.

Not ever.

***

Another day. Exactly the same.

The Doctor woke up to the soft pulse of the wall lights warming from black to grey. The ceiling hummed. The silence of the cell was absolute, as always.

She sat up, reached for the jagged mark she’d carved near her bed and added another line to the long, uneven tally scratched into the stone. Another day survived. Another day gone.

The standard ration beamed in, already half-warm, already half-dead. She didn’t even grimace this time. Years of tasteless, scentless food had dulled even disgust. She ate it like clockwork. Chewing had become a ritual more than a need.

Then came the blinking exercise symbol.

The arrows on the floor lit up, cheerful and soulless. She followed them out of her cell, just like every other morning, into the corridor she could walk blindfolded.

“Morning, camera 37. Morning, camera 38.”

Through the steel door and into the exercise yard — a bleak, segmented space, split into floating cages of light and force fields.

“Morning, Angela.”

The Angel didn’t move. But it always listened.

“All right, Bonnie and Clyde?”

The Ood bowed slightly.

“Tiny, you know the rules. Don’t eat the cage. It’s pointless. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

The Pting squealed. She smiled faintly.

Back in her cell. Lights dimmed again. Everything reset.

It was a loop. A system of stillness.
And for someone like her — someone made for motion, for stars and storms and constant change — it was torture. Quiet, orderly torture.

Chinese water torture, she’d once called it. Only without the water. Just the endless, maddening drip of sameness.

But she held on.
Because that’s what she did.

She was strong. And more importantly — she was hopeful. Hope had always been her last defense. Even now.

She leaned her head back against the cold wall and let her thoughts wander, as they always did, to him.

The Master.

He’d always been more patient than her. Infuriatingly so. When they were young, when they were rivals, when they were monsters in each other’s stories — that patience had never changed. She used to call it cowardice.

But now... now she could see it for what it was: control. Focus. Power. And the Master — though she’d never say it aloud — was powerful.

He had escaped every prison that had ever tried to hold him. Earth’s prisons, Dalek prisons, Time Lord prisons, some made of matter, some of thought. And every time, every time, he had clawed his way out. The universe hadn’t yet built a cell that could hold the Master.

Just thinking that — just remembering that — gave her strength. If anyone could survive that explosion... it was him.

He'd survived worse. Death itself, even. The end of time. The edge of the Void. A bomb was nothing.

And if he was still out there — somewhere — maybe he even needed her. Just a little. The way she, silently, achingly, needed him.

Even if they’d both rather die than admit it.

She took a breath. Her chest rose slow, her twin hearts steady.

Earth still needed her.
Her friends needed her.
And maybe — just maybe — the Master did too.

Then, without warning, something changed.

Something that never happened.

One of the floor arrows blinked, not toward the yard, not toward the cell, but toward the far end of the corridor. A small monitor lit up in the wall.

“Visitor Protocol Engaged.”

The words glowed cold and official.

Visitor?

No one had ever visited her. Not here. No one had visited anyone. This was the end of the end. The forgotten corner of time.

It had to be a mistake.

But hope foolish, beautiful hope stirred inside her like a whisper.

She stood. She followed the arrow. And for the first time in years, the Doctor didn’t know what was coming next.

***

INT. PRISON VISITOR ROOM – ARTIFICIAL LIGHT

The room is stark, metal, humming faintly. It smells of recycled air and stillness.

The door hisses open. The Doctor walks in slowly, suspicious, eyes flicking to every corner, but then she freezes.

Her breath catches.

Across the table — sits the Master.

Not the ruined, scorched version who destroyed Gallifrey. Not the one who laughed among the ruins of the Time Lords.

This one is sharper. Leaner. Harold Saxon. Clean-shaven, but with the classic goatee back. The suit he's wearing is vintage — black velvet coat with a Nehru collar, fraying at the sleeves, a little short in the legs. It doesn’t quite fit — it’s from a different regeneration.

She knows that suit.

He wore it the day he freed her and Jo Grant from a prison in another life, when she was in her third body.

Her eyes burn. She doesn’t move. A thousand reactions war inside her: scream, hit him, kiss him, collapse.

She does nothing.

But her face says everything.

The Master smiles wide — too wide, all teeth and madness. A predator, a flame, a memory she never wanted back.

“Hello, Doc. Miss me?” His eyes rake over her with an almost obscene fondness. “Blonde suits you. So do the... curves.”

He licks his lips slowly.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to get you out.” Master said telepathically. Then, aloud — professional, charming. “I am Commissioner of Penal Transfers for the Sirius IV High Council. I'm here to extradite this prisoner to a higher-security facility under our jurisdiction.”

He flashes forged credentials.

“Play along, Doctor. Obey me just this once, and I’ll break you out of this dump.” the Master said telepathically again.

The Doctor doesn’t answer.

She stares at him — her hearts racing, thoughts spiraling.
He can’t be trusted. But... he’s here. He came.

She wants to believe him. That’s what terrifies her most.

“This man is lying! He’s a Time Lord — two hearts! His name is the Master. He’s wanted in five galaxies!” Doctor said it loudly.

“Oh Doctor, really. So predictable. Ever tried doing the unexpected?” He leans in, grin still plastered across his face. “These people believe in titles. Not war crimes. I'm a government official now. And you? You're just noise in a cell.”

The Doctor backs away as he steps forward.

“What do you want from me?”

“I want to know why you destroyed Gallifrey.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. It has your touch, your flare. You did it, didn't you? Wiped them out. Again. Was it power? Revenge? Did it feel good... being a god again?”

He towers over her now, loving the height difference.

“What time are you from?” the Doctor asked calmly this time.

“Dropped your wrinkly old self into a black hole a few days ago. Then you turned blonde and got all... deliciously dramatic. Seems I’m late to the party.”

“Where’s Missy?”

The Master rolls his eyes.

“Later. Now answer my questions…“ Master can't finish his words

ALARM KLAXONS BLARE.
The doors burst open. Armed security units and spherical surveillance drones swarm in.

GUARD DRONE
Subject identified: The Master. Alias of Class Omega fugitive. Companion: The Doctor. Both to be detained.

“I assume you’ve got a plan?” asked the Doctor.

“What kind of lunatic would I be if I didn’t have at least forty-one escape plans?”

He taps the VORTEX MANIPULATOR on his wrist.
A blinding pulse of light —
And they’re gone.

***

INT. MASTER'S TARDIS

They stumble onto the grated floor. The TARDIS interior glows red, black and gold — sharp, elegant, sinister.

“How did you even get that thing into the prison?” the Doctor asked, out of breath from the sudden teleportation.

The Master rolled his eyes.

"I'm not obliged to reveal all my secrets to you," he said, then added, "Now it's your turn. Gallifrey."

The Doctor crossed her arms, muscles tensing beneath her skin.

"I didn't ask to be rescued by you. The last time I did, you left me to die... and you took Missy with you."

"Are we really going to trade old sins, Doctor? Is that the game now? Trust me, you don’t want to play that with me. You’ll lose. Shall I start listing the times you left me to die?"

"You deserved every one of them," the Doctor said coldly.

That stopped him. For a moment, he just stood there, caught off guard. He hadn’t seen this much cruelty in the Doctor for a long time. The young blond man with the sharp tongue, the tiny one in the patchwork coat — they'd been harsh with him too, yes. But even the old, weary version he'd last seen — the one who begged him to stay, to choose a different path — had never said something like this.

Maybe it’s the hair colour, the Master thought to himself. Do all the blond ones end up heartless?

The Doctor watched him freeze and whatever patience she had left snapped.

"Take me to my TARDIS. Now. I don't have time for your games. There are people who need me."

"You destroyed your own planet, your own people and you're still thinking about those ridiculous little apes? Do they matter more to you than your own kind?"

"Don’t make me laugh," the Doctor gave him a bitter smile. "As if you ever cared about our people. You loathed them. You’d burn them all again if you had the chance. You’re not grieving their loss. You’re just sulking because someone else beat you to it."

The Master smiled, his eyes glinting.

"Tell me how you did it. I want to hear it."

"I’ll tell you nothing. I have no intention of making your job easier." The Doctor’s voice was steel now and there was something cruel in the way she said it, something that made it clear she was enjoying holding all the cards.

The Master clenched his teeth. Then, in a sudden flash of rage, he lunged and seized her by the throat.

"You will tell me everything, Doctor. One way or another. And believe me — you won't like my methods."

The Doctor didn’t flinch. She smiled. A slow, unsettling smile. There was something in her eyes — cold, unending. A black hole of something the Master couldn’t name.

It chilled him.

She was hiding something — something enormous, something terrifying. Something that could unmake the universe. And he had to know.

At that moment, the TARDIS console erupted in red light and piercing alarms.

"Aren’t you going to get that?" the Doctor asked sweetly, winking.

Scowling, the Master released her and stalked toward the console. The Doctor followed, rubbing her throat.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A distress call. From your precious little planet. Someone’s trying to reach you." The Master grinned and added, "I synchronized my TARDIS with yours. Every signal you receive — I receive. Thought it might be helpful in finding you. You know, since you’re basically a magnet for disasters."

He looked her over again, that old hunger flaring in his gaze. The Doctor tried to ignore it.

"Beam us there now," she said sharply, reaching for the controls, but the Master grabbed both her hands and pulled her toward him.

Their faces were inches apart. Breaths mingling. His grip tightened. The temptation to throw her down on the floor, to claim her right there in his TARDIS, was nearly overwhelming. His trousers were already uncomfortably tight.

"You want to save your little apes, your precious planet? You can. But first—me."

"What do you want?" she spat.

"You know what I want."

"No."

"I thought you'd say that." He smirked and pressed his lips to hers.

The Doctor shoved against his chest, fists pounding, but it was too late. While kissing her, his hand slipped into his pocket and in one swift movement, he snapped a collar around her throat.

The Doctor broke the kiss and slapped him across the face — hard. But he only laughed.

Too late, she reached for her neck.

"What the hell is this?" she shouted.

"You’re mine now. Remember what you once said to me? 'You’re my responsibility'? Well — now you’re mine. My responsibility. My companion."

"You can’t hold me like this."

"I can do whatever I want. You want to play at being the Doctor? Fine. We’ll play. But here’s the new rule: I decide who lives. I decide who dies."

He entered coordinates into the console.

"What are you doing? What’s your plan?"

"You and me, traveling through the universe. Just us — like it was meant to be. Only now... you’re wearing a little something special."

He tapped the collar gently.

"That little beauty? Holds enough power to force a Time Lord to regenerate. If you move more than a hundred meters from me — shock. If you try to harm me — shock. Disobey me — shock. And if I regenerate... it drains your regenerations and burns you out. Completely. This works with my mind power. So don't try to open it. Because you'll get an shock.”

He turned, still grinning.

"Now, let’s go see your little monkeys. I’ll show them who you really belong to."

The Doctor felt a wave of dread. Not for herself. But for Earth. For them.

Laughing maniacally, the Master slammed a lever and the TARDIS dematerialized — reappearing right at the source of the signal: Graham’s house."

Chapter 3: Revolution of the Daleks. Part 2

Summary:

Master meets the Doctor's new companions (and runs into an old acquaintance).

Chapter Text

GRAHAM'S HOUSE

Sunlight pours gently through the window. The table is cluttered with notebooks, empty mugs and Yaz’s laptop. Yaz, Graham, Ryan and Captain Jack Harkness are sitting around the table. Everyone looks tense. Yaz’s eyes are fixed on her screen, while Ryan drums his fingers nervously on the tabletop. Jack leans back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze serious, but warm.

“This is what I've got so far. Remnants of the Dalek we fought at GCHQ were cleared but then stolen. The driver is missing, presumed dead.” Yaz said, tapping her keyboard quickly.

“Now Robertson's got his hands on it.” Ryan leaned forward, frowning.

“Well, he can't have, because you sent that creature thing that was inside it into a supernova, so…” Graham raised his eyebrows, confused.

“Maybe there's more of them here on Earth, and one’s got Robertson under their control?” Ryan replied, clearly frustrated.

“Ryan, shh!” Yaz cut in quickly, her voice sharp but hushed.

A sudden shift in the air a low, rising mechanical sound grows louder outside. Wind rustles the blinds. The faint, familiar hum of the TARDIS materialisation begins.

“Please. Please be her.” Yaz whispered to herself, her voice cracking slightly.

But just before anyone moves, Jack speaks, standing up from the table.

“She’s coming. I sent the signal a week ago.” Jack Harkness said calmly but firmly.

“You sent her a signal? From where?” Graham looked up at him, surprised.

“From her TARDIS. Before I got kicked out. Long story. She’ll have traced it.” Jack gave him a half-smile.

The materialisation grows louder, they all stand up instinctively. But instead of a police box, something else begins to appear in the center of the room. Light flashes, particles swirl and suddenly, there it is:

A tall, wooden wardrobe stands in the middle of Graham’s living room.

“…That’s… not the TARDIS.” Yaz whispered, confused.

The wardrobe clicks. Slowly, the door creaks open from the inside. A hand emerges, then a head. The Doctor steps out of the wardrobe in full stride, arms open, as if she’s been waiting to say this for weeks. She grins brightly.

“Hi! I was in space jail.” The Doctor exclaimed.

Everyone stares in shock. Ryan’s mouth falls open. Yaz lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Jack just smiles, shaking his head.

"You…what?" Graham was surprised, unsure what to expect.

Just then, Master emerged from the wardrobe, magnificent and confident.

"Master?" Jack immediately reached for his weapon.

"Prime Minister Saxon?" the others were shocked.

"I see you haven't forgotten me," Master said with a self-satisfied smile.

"Jack, put your weapon down. Yes, this is our former Prime Minister, but he’s also Master. Everyone stay silent, don’t say anything. This is the Master from my past. No one needs to give details. I’ll explain later," the Doctor said quickly.

The Doctor feared that her companions might say something about the Master’s future, which could make the already complicated situation impossible to handle and she could lose her only leverage. If the Master’s future version had burned Gallifrey after discovering the Doctor was the Timeless Child, the Doctor didn’t even want to think about what the craziest version could do.

"But Master..." Ryan wanted to say something, but Jack immediately cut him off.

"Master is a Time Lord too, like the Doctor and he can regenerate as well. Master was once our Prime Minister, yes," Jack briefly clarified without going into details and without lowering his weapon, to keep everyone quiet.

"Oh, I see the freak is here too. Where’s that girl who travels the world? What was her name? Martha? Is she still alive?" Master asked with a smile.

"We were worried about you!" Yaz stepped forward and shouted, pushing the Doctor. "Were you traveling with the ex-Prime Minister?"

"What? How long has it been? A week? Two weeks?" the Doctor asked.

"Ten months," Ryan answered sadly.

The Doctor turned angrily and looked at Master.

"I told you to take me to the moment I disappeared."

"I'm not acting on your orders," Master replied harshly.

"I'm sorry," The Doctor turns to Yaz and apologizes.

"Are you apologizing to these monkeys? You’ve been imprisoned for years. Instead of wondering how you are, they demand answers from you. Is this what you call family, friends? Though, what can I expect from humans?!" Master tried to control his anger.

"We were worried about her," Graham tried to object.

"No. You just want to travel with her, have a good time and protect your worthless planet from dangers. You really don’t care about her." Master finished angrily.

"You care about her?" Jack laughed bitterly.

"You shut up. You don’t have the mind to understand our relationship, freak. I rescued her from prison and now she travels with me. Isn’t that right, Doctor?" Master smiled and winked at the Doctor.

"Are you traveling with him, Doctor?" Jack asked in disbelief.

"And in my TARDIS," Master proudly announced.

"Doctor?" Yaz looked at the Doctor with one last hope.

"We’ll talk about this later. We received a distress call. What’s going on?"

"Can't we talk about this?" Yaz insisted, motioning toward the Master.

"No. Later, Yaz." The Doctor’s tone was final—she had no intention of continuing the conversation.

"She’s been very stubborn lately," the Master remarked, shaking his head and flashing a wide, mischievous grin.

"So... what's new on planet Earth?" the Doctor asked, blatantly changing the subject.

"Dalek," came the chorus of voices in unison.

"What?" both the Doctor and the Master turned toward each other, horror dawning in their eyes.

"Show us!" the Master demanded, his voice cutting through the air.

"Do what he said," the Doctor added, her tone more composed, but equally firm.

The Doctor and the Master swiftly examined the data being presented to them, eyes flicking rapidly across the screen, minds already calculating.

"So, it looks like a Dalek, but it can't be a Dalek... unless it is a Dalek," the Doctor murmured.

"Trust us. We've seen the footage," Ryan said gravely.

"If you scan for Dalek DNA trace across the planet..." Yaz began.

"Oh, she's good," Jack said, clearly impressed.

The Master rolled his eyes with exaggerated disdain. His patience for humans and their endless chatter was wearing thin.

"So, you've had dealings with Daleks as well, then?" Graham asked Jack curiously.

"Yeah, they killed me once, long time ago. No big deal," Jack answered casually.

"You look pretty healthy for a corpse," Ryan observed.

"I know, right? I can be killed, but I come back to life pretty quick. Partially her fault, partially a friend of hers on Earth called Rose. But she's trapped in a parallel universe now."

"She's what?" Yaz's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"That’s the only thing you’re good for," the Master sneered at Jack, a dark gleam in his eyes. "Killing you in different, inventive ways always brought me joy."

"You killed him?" Yaz recoiled, visibly shaken, her gaze darting to the Doctor. "And you travel with this man?"

"Oh, I killed some of her other friends too," the Master said with venomous delight. "Turned them into Cybermen. But she always forgives me. Always comes back. Because you humans are nothing. Tiny, single-hearted, short-lived creatures with feeble little minds. No one really mourns when a pet dies."

In a flash, both Jack and Yaz moved to lunge at the Master, fury erupting in their expressions, but the Doctor stepped in, calm yet commanding.

"Stop. Daleks first. Master later. One problem at a time."

"Keep your pets away from me, Doctor. You are getting them vaccinated on time, aren't you?" the Master asked with a poisonous smirk.

"Shut up and focus on the Daleks." the Doctor said, staring him down.

"You know, I like you like this," the Master purred. "Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are when you're angry?"

"I have," Jack chimed in with a grin.

The veins in the Master's neck pulsed with fury. Without warning, he whipped out his laser screwdriver and fired at Jack. No one had time to react—it was over in a blink. The shot rang out, Jack collapsed and the Master simply smiled as if nothing had happened.

"Right then, Doctor. We were talking about Daleks, weren’t we?"

Yaz, Graham and Ryan immediately dropped to Jack’s side, panicking as they tried to check his pulse and bring him back.

The Doctor, though clearly furious, remained composed. She knew Jack would recover.

"That was unnecessary," she snapped at the Master, then turned to her friends. "Leave him. He’ll be back in a moment."

And sure enough, a few minutes later, Jack stirred. His eyes fluttered open and he glared at the Master, who stood proudly, unrepentantly grinning like a cat who had just played with a mouse.

Seeing Jack revive, the Doctor allowed herself a breath of relief and refocused.

"Dalek DNA trace, Japan. Osaka. Well, sort of. Not an exact match. Ah, it's corrupted. I can't quite make sense of it," she reported.

"I can check it out. Anyone want to come? But I’m not leaving the Doctor alone with that sociopath," Jack said, climbing to his feet.

"I want to come with you," Yaz offered eagerly.

"Don’t worry. We’ll stay with the Doctor. Besides, I’ve got a few things to say to Robertson," Ryan added.

"Looks like he's recently opened a facility in Osaka. We could check it out, drop you on the way," the Doctor proposed.

"We? In my TARDIS? Oh, no no no, Doctor. I will not let your mangy little pets ruin my ship," the Master objected at once.

"Fine. Perfect. Then we’ll use mine," the Doctor said cheerfully and turned to leave.

But the Master grabbed her arm roughly.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said through clenched teeth.

They locked eyes and though no one around them could hear, a telepathic conversation crackled between them like a silent storm. The tension was palpable. At last, the Master released her with a frustrated huff.

"Fine. We all go in my TARDIS. No making a mess. No shedding."

"We don’t shed," Yaz snapped back indignantly.

"Come on, make yourselves at home. Trash the place," the Doctor said cheerfully as she opened the TARDIS doors, sticking her tongue out at the Master.

The Master closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose as he struggled for composure. Why did he tolerate her and her insufferable pets? As he questioned his own sanity, a wicked thought crossed his mind. He smiled slowly, eyes gleaming with malice and stepped inside after everyone else. With a final glance, he pulled the door shut behind him.

***

Robertson’s Office

“Everyone working at maximum capacity,” Robertson spoke briskly into his phone, pacing before his desk, his voice tight with the stress of urgency. But his steps halted abruptly as a wardrobe shimmered into existence in the middle of his office—appearing out of thin air like a ghost of science. He stared, wide-eyed, before muttering, “Er... Let me call you back,” and ended the call with a trembling hand.

From within the ornate, humming frame of the Master’s TARDIS, the Doctor emerged first—restrained, but clearly seething. Behind her came Ryan, Graham and finally, the Master himself, who calmly stepped out and closed the door with deliberate ease.

"If you're dealing with Daleks, you are way out of your depth," the Doctor said coldly, raising a warning finger toward Robertson.

"What is that thing? And... our former Prime Minister? You're alive? So, the rumours were true. Fancy another term in office? I could help with that," Robertson said with a disingenuous smile, eyes gleaming with ambition.

The Master returned the smile, but his was razor-sharp. "Right now, all I want is to destroy the Daleks. Then this planet. I just haven’t decided which one I want more."

"I want to know what you're doing right now and don't try calling security, ‘cause I just blocked your phone lines," the Doctor said, ignoring the Master’s threats and cutting straight to the core of the matter.

Robertson huffed, clearly fed up. “What is the matter with you people? Hmm? Do you want to know what I'm doing? I'll show you myself.”

***

Factory Floor

The heavy doors slid open with a mechanical groan, revealing a vast, sterile chamber filled with machinery and harsh fluorescent light. Gleaming metal arms moved in rhythmic precision over rows of partially assembled Dalek casings.

"Welcome to the production line," Robertson said proudly, sweeping his arm across the expanse of industrial horror.

"You're making Daleks," the Master said with a voice taut between revulsion and morbid fascination, his eyes scanning every curved panel and glowing sensor.

"We're 3D-printing security drones," Robertson explained, his voice defensive now.

"What about what's inside?" the Doctor pressed, her expression darkening.

"There's nothing inside. It's run by artificial intelligence," Robertson claimed.

"What?" The Doctor’s voice cracked with disbelief.

"Watch," Robertson said, moving toward one of the units. He pried open the casing to reveal its inner workings. "See? They're machines. There's the remote signal unit."

"They’re empty," the Doctor murmured, staring into the hollow void.

"You're messing with things you don't understand, dumbass. The creature these are modelled on is the most evil killing machine in the universe, you're idiot," the Master growled, fury building beneath his smooth exterior.

"You're getting much too excited about a bunch of 3D-printed shapes," Robertson scoffed.

"So what are you doing at your facility in Osaka?" the Doctor asked, her voice clipped.

"We don't have a facility in Osaka," Robertson replied, shaking his head.

"Yeah, you do," the Master said flatly.

"No, we don’t! I would know!" Robertson insisted, frustration rising.

In a breathless moment, without warning or ceremony, the Master silently withdrew his laser screwdriver and with the press of a single button, fired. A flash of light. A dull thud. Robertson crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

The room fell still.

"What did you just do?" The Doctor’s voice trembled with fury—no longer restrained.

"What needed to be done," the Master said with a shrug. "He wasn’t lying. I read his mind. He genuinely had no idea about the Osaka facility. That made him... disposable."

"You can read minds?" Graham’s voice trembled, a chill settling in his gut.

"Yes. But not yours," the Doctor interjected quickly. "I’ve set mental defenses around all of you. Ever since the Jo incident. He can't read your mind and he can't hypnotize you."

"Can he hypnotise people too?" Ryan asked, eyes wide with dread.

"I can do many things your feeble little minds can’t even begin to grasp," the Master said smugly. "These are simple tricks for a Time Lord. A superior species. You wouldn’t understand."

"So that’s why you killed him?" The Doctor’s voice cracked as she pointed to Robertson’s corpse. Her anger surged and she stormed toward the Master.

But she never reached him.

With a thought, the collar around her neck activated. A surge of electric pain shot through her body and she collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony.

“Doctor!” Ryan and Graham rushed to her side, but the moment their hands made contact, the collar discharged again, throwing them both back in a jolt of light and force.

The Master looked down at the Doctor with genuine disappointment, slowly shaking his head.

"Oh, Doctor. When will you ever learn to listen to me?"

As Ryan and Graham pushed themselves up, dazed, but determined, they moved to attack the Master. But the Doctor, still lying on the ground, raised her hand in a weak but clear gesture—stop.

“So that’s how you got her to come with you,” Graham hissed. “You’re forcing her. You disgusting freak.”

"Oh no," the Master said with a bitter smile. "The Doctor has been begging me to travel together for centuries. Cried bloody tears over my corpse, if I recall. This collar? It’s merely symbolic. A mark. Of ownership. Like what you humans call... BDSM? Did I say that right? Yes. Just like that. She’s mine. Has been. Will be."

The collar around the Doctor’s neck bore the Master’s true name—inscribed in the language of Gallifrey.

Still smiling, the Master extended a hand toward the Doctor with theatrical politeness. She slapped it away with a glare and dragged herself upright, her whole body still trembling from the shock.

If looks could kill, the Master would have been reduced to ash under the weight of the fury in her eyes and in Ryan and Graham’s.

Unbothered, the Master turned and strolled back toward his TARDIS, the embodiment of arrogant triumph. The others followed, silent and reluctant, like prisoners led into the lair of a grinning beast.

The Doctor touched the collar at her throat, fingers brushing it with dread. She needed to find a way out. And fast.

***

The facility was quiet, the kind of silence that buzzes beneath the skin — humming with machines, hidden motion and tension just waiting to surface. Towering columns of vertical farmland rose in the dark like steel skeletons dressed in green, lit only by artificial light panels that cast long, pale reflections onto the floor.

"It says this is an agricultural park. Guess this is the future." Yaz read aloud, her voice low, eyes scanning the sign affixed to a column. She looked up at the towering growth. "Vertical farms. All inside."

Jack stood a few steps behind her, hands in his coat pockets, scanning the environment with practiced ease — like a soldier sizing up a battlefield and a tourist at once.

"In my time, there are whole agri-planets that look like this, shipping food all over galaxies." he said, the casualness in his tone slightly undercut by something more thoughtful.

"Your time?" Yaz turned to him, frowning.

"51st century," he replied.

"Get lost!" Yaz gave a short laugh, incredulous.

"Seriously. Boeshane Peninsula. Maybe one day I'll take you there." Jack's voice softened with memory, distant and fond.

"Are they all like you there?" Yaz asked, one brow lifted in challenge.

Jack grinned. "No. I'm pretty special." He hesitated, then tilted his head. "Had a rough time, then? Without the Doctor?"

Yaz’s expression flickered and she turned away slightly, as if the plants were more interesting than the question.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I saw the way you shoved her. You thought she wasn't coming back, right?" Jack’s tone was gentle, knowing.

"You're guessing a lot from a shove," she muttered.

"I have my own experience with the Doctor." Jack said, his voice quiet now and full of memories he didn’t voice.

"And what about the Master?" Yaz asked quietly. "When did you meet him? And why does he have the face of our old Prime Minister?"

"Because your old Prime Minister was him — an alien in disguise. Just like the Doctor, he's a Time Lord. He can change his face and body."

"The last time we saw him, he was younger…dark-haired."

"I read about that version in the file, though I never met him. Before that, he was a woman. This one—" Jack exhaled, his voice thickening with the weight of memory, "—this one is much older. That’s the version I encountered. You wouldn’t remember — almost no one does. Because that year never officially happened. Thanks to Martha and the Doctor. But during that missing year, the Master took over the Earth. He committed genocide against humanity."

Yaz’s brows furrowed. "And the Doctor...?"

"He forgave him," Jack said, without hesitation. "Just like that. Instantly."

"No way."

"When you love someone... it happens."

"But when we met the other Master, the Doctor didn’t act like she loved him at all." Yaz's voice held both confusion and disbelief.

"Yaz, trying to understand the relationships between beings who've lived for millennia... it's almost impossible. But there’s one thing I know for certain: the Doctor loved him. Deeply. Think of it like a first love — a schoolyard kind of love, only with the power to burn stars. That bastard kept the Doctor in a cage for a whole year. Humiliated him. Tortured him. And when he finally died... the Doctor held his lifeless body and wept. For hours. That was when I truly understood — she never loved any of us the way she loved him."

"But he destroyed Gallifrey," Yaz whispered.

Jack's eyes darkened. "And that... is the one truth you can never tell the Master. Because if he finds out, he’ll go hunting for his future self. And trust me — he’ll do far worse."

"Worse than genocide?" Yaz said, incredulous.

Jack turned to her, his face solemn. "Yaz, you don’t know him. That’s why you have to do exactly what the Doctor says: never speak a word about the new Master. Not to anyone. One whisper could fracture time itself. It could endanger the Doctor. You. Me. The entire universe."

***

The chamber pulsed with a low hum—dark, rhythmic, like a living beast caught in slumber. Master’s TARDIS was nothing like the Doctor’s. Where hers had glowed with warm whites and curious ambers, this place bled shadows and sharp edges. Deep crimson throbbed from the walls like a heartbeat, lighting up jagged panels of obsidian black, interrupted only by veins of gold that twisted across the architecture like arteries of arrogance.

Ryan stood at the edge of the console platform, quietly slipping on his yellow beanie. The color clashed violently with the red-gold gloom, a drop of sun in the heart of storm.

Behind him, footsteps echoed—light, uncertain. The Doctor stepped into view, eyes scanning the unfamiliar architecture. She saw Ryan ahead and softened.

"You do love a beanie. Me too. One of the first things I noticed about you that night we met. I thought, not everyone can carry off a yellow beanie. There's a lad to rely on. Four minutes to Osaka."

"Yeah. Okay." Ryan’s voice was flat. He didn’t turn around.

"I'm sorry about the ten months. More sorry than I can ever really say."

"This thing, innit? You never really quite got the hang of it."

"I missed you all so much."

"Yeah? We missed you too."

"But you've been good?"

"Yeah, maybe it's what I needed."

"Oh, yeah. Ah. Maybe it was."

"Hmm. I saw me dad."

"Oh, good. Well, was it good? He's all right?"

"Yeah, he's back at the oil rigs again. Due back in a couple of weeks. But, yeah, we're good. We're getting there. Time to reconnect with him, time to see me mates, see what's happening on the old planet. Lots of work to be done here on Earth."

"Yeah. Always. Well, it sounds like you enjoyed being back."

"It's home." Ryan finally turned, meeting her eyes. His gaze flicked briefly to the blood-red walls surrounding them. "What's happening with your home? You know, what happened to you on Gallifrey?"

"Not now. Not here. Especially not beside him, inside his TARDIS." the Doctor warned, her voice sharp but low. Then she turned her head slightly, addressing the shadows without looking directly. "Eavesdropping from your own TARDIS like a coward—isn’t that just a little too pathetic, even for you?"

The Master emerged from the darkness with a slow, mocking smile.

"Why did you go quiet when Gallifrey came up, Doctor? Go on, tell him how you destroyed your own planet. Not even for the first time."

Noticing Ryan staring at him in shock, he added almost sweetly:

"Your companions don’t know what you really are, do they? A murderer. A genocide of your own kind. Go on, explain that to them."

"But Doctor, Gallifrey—" Ryan started, struggling to process, but the Doctor cut him off before he could finish.

"Ryan, don’t say anything. Let him believe whatever he wants about me. He’s always chasing the truth, but I have no intention of making it easy for him."

Ryan didn’t understand, not really. But he knew when to be silent and if the Doctor had a reason, it was reason enough.

"What do you want?" she asked, stepping toward the Master with sudden determination, closing the space between them until there was only a breath left. Her eyes locked onto his with a fire that dared him to answer.

"We’ve arrived. Osaka. That’s all I came to say," the Master replied with that same infuriating smile.

The tension between them was so palpable, so electrically charged, that not only Ryan and Graham could feel it, but likely every living being within a light-year’s radius of the Master’s TARDIS.

Chapter 4: Revolution of the Daleks. Part 3

Summary:

The Master wants to kill two birds with one stone—get rid of the Daleks and the Doctor’s meddling companions at the same time.

Chapter Text

The lab was cold and sterile, bathed in a flickering bluish light that pulsed faintly across the metallic surfaces. In the silence, the familiar wheezing, groaning sound echoed.

Jack's eyes lit up instantly. “Oh-ho-ho! I've missed that sound.”

But as the light solidified into form, his face fell. It wasn’t a blue police box this time, it was a wardrobe.

The door creaked open. The Doctor emerged first, quickly followed by the Master, Ryan, and Graham. They barely had a second to orient themselves before the air erupted with motion.

From the shadows, spider-like creatures with a single glaring eye burst forward—Dalek mutants, all limbs and shrieks, just like something from “Alien”.

“Kill them! Kill them!” the Master shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber as he raised his laser screwdriver and fired.

The Doctor spun into action with her sonic screwdriver, Jack joined with his own weapon and together they fought back, trying to stay ahead of the writhing swarm.

"Who built all this?!" the Doctor shouted over the chaos.

"I have." the voice came from ahead. Leo—only it wasn’t just Leo anymore. His eyes were too still, his face too smooth.

Graham stared. "Who's this guy?"

“Don’t get too close,” the Doctor warned, stepping protectively in front of the others.

She turned toward the creature in Leo’s skin, her voice steady but filled with quiet grief. “What have you done? Cloned the smallest trace of organic material, not understanding that Dalek consciousness can live within the tiniest fragment of their DNA. You weren't to know. You're safe. We're here for you. We're going to get you out of here alive.”

"You give this body false hope," replied Dalek!Leo with a chilling calm.

The Master stepped forward, clearly losing patience. “All right, then, Dalek or whatever you are, tell me how you've built all this.”

“I connected myself into the neural network. I inserted myself into the organisation, into every network. I located this place, created it. Every piece of equipment, every idea behind it... I did that.”

The Master exhaled in mock weariness. “If I’d done it myself, I’d be applauding.”

Around him, everyone rolled their eyes.

“I used your systems to buy this building, to order equipment, to pay humans to construct and to continue the clone work. I used your systems to build an army all in my image.”

“But where are the workers?” Yaz asked, frowning. “Where are the people who did all the cloning?”

“Once the experiments were working, they became... unnecessary. We found them another use.”

Jack stepped closer, revulsion clear in his voice. “What, you're feeding cloned Dalek creatures liquidised humans?”

“Correct.”

The Master grinned darkly. “This is a PR disaster.”

The Doctor’s brow furrowed. Something wasn’t right. “But there's something else that's bugging me. What is it?”

The Master spoke lowly, a spark of awareness in his voice. “It's the light. The light's been changing really slowly ever since we've been here.”

“Yes, it is,” the Doctor agreed, nodding slowly. “Right, why is that important? Oh, there's too much going on. Where was I? Yes. How are you going to get off this planet?”

“We will not.”

She blinked. “I'm sorry?”

“The planet is ours. It will be converted.”

“Converted into what?” Yaz asked sharply.

“We shall use this planet as a base from which to conquer this sector of the universe.”

The Doctor let out a hollow laugh. “There's a long way between squatting in a Japanese lab and subjugating humanity. I mean, you don't even have bodies...”

“The light!” Master shouted, his voice suddenly cutting through the tension like a knife. “Where's the light? We have to turn off the light!”

“Why, Master?” Doctor asked, following him as he rushed to scan the walls.

“Ultraviolet light. The Recon Dalek used it to come back together.”

The Doctor’s face lit up with delight and relief. “Of course! You're a genius, Master.” She paused only a second before adding with a wry smile, “I only wish you'd use that brain to save lives more often.”

He scowled, clearly unimpressed by the compliment.

“Activate!” Dalek!Leo’s voice rang out sharply.

The tanks around them drained in unison. Within seconds, every clone had vanished.

“My project shall be co—”

He didn’t finish.

A flash of light, sharp and final, erupted from the Master’s laser screwdriver. Dalek!Leo fell to the ground, smoking. The body of the young man he had possessed lay lifeless on the metal floor.

The Doctor stepped forward slowly, crouched beside Leo and looked down at him. Her expression was clouded with grief. Then she rose and turned toward the Master, her voice trembling with anger.

“Two seconds ago, I praised you for saving lives. Did you really have to do that?”

The Master stared back with absolute clarity. “I don’t take well to insults. I exist to burn and conquer. Saving lives is your thing. Don’t confuse me with yourself.”

His words fell like ice. The Doctor’s jaw clenched, and the silence between them was louder than any scream.

***

Inside the TARDIS, shadows licked the gilded walls like the tongues of some ancient fire. Crimson lights pulsed beneath glass panels as if the vessel itself had a heartbeat, dark and electric. The chamber was a cavern of decadence and menace, angular and commanding, the air dense with ozone and something darker—something like madness.

Master stood before the console, fingers poised above controls forged in gall and genius. The machine purred beneath him, awaiting command. His smile was the kind that made even silence uneasy.

“Only one thing I can think of. Nuclear option. Nuclear option that might backfire,” he declared, voice smooth as velvet and sharp as broken glass.

Across from him, framed by the blood-lit hum of the TARDIS core, stood the Doctor. Her coat swung slightly as she moved forward, boots firm against the cold metallic floor.

“If it’s what I think you’re thinking, you’d better stop thinking it right now. Way too big a risk,” she said, her voice hardening into steel. “I am never letting you endanger this planet. Not now. Not ever.”

Their gazes locked, a quiet collision of fire and fury. She stared into his eyes, unflinching, chin lifted in challenge. Master felt that old rush flood his senses, the heady, dangerous thrill she always brought with her, like the scent of smoke before a blaze. He wanted her—in every way, but not now. Not yet. Not when the game was still unfolding.

He reminded himself sharply: not everything she says deserves obedience. Not this time. Not when the world was watching. Not when it was time to remind her who was truly in control. He didn’t back down.

“How big a risk?” Yaz asked, voice barely audible as she leaned toward Jack.

“Planet-threatening,” Jack whispered back grimly.

Master's eyes glittered in the low light as he turned, arms flaring theatrically.

“Got any better ideas? Cos now is your moment. I’m all ears. Exactly!” His tone danced with mockery and madness. “If you don’t have another way to save your darling little planet, get out of my way. Let the master handle this. I’ve fought Daleks just as often as you have.”

He spun toward the console, hands moving with unholy confidence as he activated a command—silent, encoded, deadly. A signal flared through the TARDIS core, riding the timelines into the Vortex where horrors slept with one eye open.

“So, what is it you’re going to do?” Ryan asked, unable to mask the unease in his voice.

“They’re built from the original Reconnaissance Dalek,” the Doctor answered, her face pale under the golden lights. “He’s going to give them what they wanted in the first place.”

“What’s he doing?” Yaz pressed, eyes darting toward the console.

“Something you never want to do,” came the Doctor’s quiet reply.

“Doc, what have he done?” Graham asked, the dread creeping into his voice like frost across glass.

Master clapped his hands together with manic delight, rubbing them as though savoring the thrill of the gamble.

“Sent a message through the timelines into the Vortex, 'cos I know they’re in there, like sharks in water. Always scoping, always ready.”

And as he spoke, that mad gleam returned to his eye, the glint of chaos just barely leashed. The others stood frozen, their fear unspoken but palpable, while he vibrated with anticipation. War was coming and he, as ever, was ready to dance in its fire.

Graham stepped forward again, his voice low, uncertain. “Who’s in there?”

Master’s hands moved slowly, deliberately, rubbing together with a glee that should never have belonged in a moment like this. His grin was feral. “The ship you never want to see arriving on your planet.”

“What’s on it?” asked Ryan, though his instincts already dreaded the answer.

“Death Squad Daleks,” the Doctor answered before the Master could, her tone grave. “Think of them like the SAS of Daleks.”

“Only way more brutal,” Master added with a grin that could cut glass.

“They’re our best hope right now,” the Doctor admitted, her voice quiet. Defeated. She hated every syllable of it, but the truth didn’t care about comfort.

Graham’s head shook, eyes wide. “But they’re going to kill more humans.”

“They don’t care about humans. They’re the enforcers of the Dalek race,” Master said, rolling his eyes as if explaining this was beneath him.

“To combat Daleks, you’ve brought more Daleks?” Yaz’s voice rose, disbelief thick in her throat.

“Yes,” Master said coolly. “But they don’t know that I’m behind the transmission and it’s quite important that they don’t realise I’m here. We’ve got previous. We’re not best mates.” He swallowed at the last word, the weight of old battles tightening in his throat.

“Neither are we,” the Doctor added, correcting him without even turning her head.

“I’ve been killed by Daleks. Twice,” Master snapped suddenly, voice sharp. “Have you ever died at their hands?”

“That’s your incompetence,” the Doctor replied with biting cheer. “You’re the universe’s reigning champion of dying. You drop dead at every dramatic moment like a galactic drama queen.”

“At least I die fighting enemies or getting assassinated. I don’t bonk my head on my own TARDIS console and regenerate like some clumsy amateur.”

“And at least I wasn’t murdered by my wife. Twice.” She shot back, eyes narrowing.

“Well, I didn’t fall off a cliff and die like an idiot.”

“I didn’t wander the universe like a charred skeleton for years.”

“My clothes didn’t look like they were stolen from a clown.”

“I didn’t abandon my best friend in a black hole and run like a coward.”

Master froze for a moment, shoulders stiffening. Then he slowly turned, laughter bursting out of him like a pressure valve blown open. “Weren’t you the one who threw me into that black hole? I had to burn through six regenerations just to claw my way out.”

“You deserved it. And that only proves how pathetic you are. Look at me—I escaped with one regeneration and fought off your Cybermen army while I was at it. Alone. Deal with it.” The Doctor’s voice flared with fury now, uncharacteristically raw.

Master flushed crimson, trembling with fury. He looked one breath away from lunging at her, fingers twitching as though imagining them wrapped around her throat.

Before he could move, Yaz stepped in between them, her face the picture of exhausted outrage. “Oi! You two space maniacs. The world’s in danger. Humanity’s in danger. Can you put your personal nonsense on hold for five minutes?”

“This is my ship,” Master growled, eyes blazing. “You don’t give orders here, you ugly monkey.”

“All right, look,” Jack cut in, raising both hands like a referee stepping into a particularly dangerous ring. “So if your plan works and this set of Daleks kills a lot, how do we get rid of the new ones?”

“That’s phase two of the plan.” For once, Master gave a crooked, almost human smile. “It’ll be down to us.”

A cold, static hum filled the TARDIS console room as flickering images danced across the monitor screen—Daleks tearing through other Daleks in brutal precision. The Death Squad had arrived, and the first phase of the plan was in motion.

Master stood tall near the console, bathed in the red-gold glow of his vessel. A glint of something almost reluctant passed across his face—an unfamiliar emotion, foreign on his sharp features.

“Phase one of the plan is working,” he announced, eyes glued to the screen. “Daleks destroying other Daleks in order to save humanity. Now, phase two…” He hesitated, the words clawing their way out as if they hadn't touched his tongue in centuries. “I hate saying this… but I need your help. If you want to save your worthless species, help me.”

There was a stunned silence in the room. Doctor’s eyes widened and everyone else turned toward Master, disbelief etched into their faces.

“What kind of help,” the Doctor asked, narrowing her eyes, “and why should we trust you?”

“Don’t trust me,” he said coolly. “Just trust that they’ll save you. Because believe me, I hate the Daleks even more than I hate your pitiful species.”

“What kind of help do you mean?” Ryan asked, cautiously.

Master gave a wicked grin.

“Someone needs to board the Daleks’ main ship and plant explosives. That’s the only way to destroy the ones we just summoned. But neither I nor the Doctor can do it. They know us. If they realize we’re here, they’ll obliterate the entire planet without hesitation.”

“My kind of plan. I have Dalek issues,” Jack said instantly, stepping forward with that reckless gleam in his eye.

No one trusted Master, but none of them had a better option.

“No kidding?” Yaz muttered.

“You never forget your first death,” Jack replied with a wry smile.

“Me and Graham are coming with you,” Ryan said, stepping closer to Jack.

“Are we?” Graham blinked, taken aback.

“Big Dalek ship, only one guy. If we don’t help, the human race is going down,” Ryan pressed.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s right. We’re coming with you,” Graham agreed at last, his grandson’s words sinking in.

“Whoa, whoa, are you okay with this?” Jack turned to the Doctor, hesitation flashing in his eyes. “I just don’t want to leave you alone with him.”

He jerked his thumb toward Master. The Time Lord arched an eyebrow, glaring in offended silence.

“I couldn’t stop them even if I wanted to,” the Doctor said dryly. “No detonation until we’re sure that the SAS Daleks have destroyed all of Robertson’s creations.”

She added with a soft smile, “And I’m not alone. Yaz is staying with me. Don’t worry. I’ve dealt with this nightmare for centuries. He can’t do anything to me.”

She threw Jack a quick wink. Master, standing off to the side, flicked open his laser screwdriver and spun it in his fingers, clearly resisting the urge to stab someone with it.

“Don’t worry,” Yaz said, crossing her arms. “I won’t leave the Doctor alone.”

“If you want,” Master said, licking his lips with theatrical menace, “you can join them. Then the Doctor and I would be alone.”

Both Yaz and the Doctor recoiled in visible disgust, faces contorting in perfect sync.

Unbothered, Master strolled toward a control panel and retrieved compacts, sleek explosives from a hidden compartment. He handed them out to Jack, Ryan, and Graham, then pointed to a schematic on the screen—showing where the bombs needed to be placed within the Dalek command ship.

“Just make sure your tiny little minds are capable of handling such a simple task,” he sneered.

“And before you’re all clear of the Dalek ship, obviously,” Yaz added with a frown.

“Obviously. We didn’t come this far just to get exterminated,” Ryan said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

“Are you sure the bombs will work?” the Doctor stepped in sharply, lowering her voice but not her tone. “You’re not sending them straight into a trap, are you?”

“I made them myself. Every single one. Don’t worry,” Master replied, grinning from ear to ear.

“That’s exactly why I’m worried. If anything happens to them, I swear—”

“Could you show me what you’ll do to me?” Master interrupted, voice dipping with unmistakable suggestion. “Later. When we’re alone.”

The Doctor rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t fall over.

“Okay, boys. Hold tight. Cos here we go,” Jack said, activating his vortex manipulator.

In a sudden flare of blue light, the three of them vanished—leaving the Doctor, Yaz, and the Master alone in the eerie stillness of the red-lit TARDIS.

Once Jack confirmed he had planted all the explosives, Yaz gave the order for them to return. But something went terribly wrong. Before they could even begin to teleport, the Dalek ship erupted in a violent explosion. The bombs had gone off prematurely. For one suspended, harrowing second, the Doctor and Yaz stood frozen, staring at the screen in horror.

Then the Doctor turned. Her gaze locked onto the Master, who stood silently by the monitor, pretending to be entirely uninvolved—like a cat knocking over a vase and then feigning innocence.

"You!" she screamed, her voice breaking with fury. "You killed my friends. You killed my family!"

The pain of Gallifrey was still raw, an open wound within her. That grief surged back now, doubling the fire in her veins. Without thinking, she lunged at him.

He didn’t have time to react. She slammed him to the floor of the TARDIS, her hands tightening around his throat. The metal beneath them rang out with the impact. For a moment, the Doctor’s fury eclipsed everything else.

But then, he smiled.

And in that instant, she was hit with a jolt of electricity. Her body convulsed, her grip loosened and she collapsed off of him, sliding to the floor in a daze.

Yaz rushed to her side. “Doctor! Are you okay? What did he do to you?” Then she turned on the Master, her voice rising in rage. “What did you do to her, you monster?!”

The Master rose smoothly to his feet, brushing imaginary dust from his coat.

“You're forgetting the rules, Doctor,” he said coldly. “You’re my prisoner. And I decide who lives... and who doesn’t. That includes your pitiful little pets.”

Yaz made a move toward him, but the Doctor stopped her with a hand on her arm. With Yaz’s help, she pushed herself upright.

“They were my family,” the Doctor shouted, her voice raw.

“No…I’m your family,” the Master replied, a twisted fervor in his tone. “Your family, your friend, your lover, your enemy. I’m everything. Get it through that stubborn little mind of yours, Doctor, there is no one else. You said it yourself. We have no one, but each other.”

“I do now,” she said, spitting the words like venom. “I have a family. I have people who love me. I have friends. You're the one who's alone. You've always been alone.”

The Master swallowed—just once and then his face contorted with renewed fury.

“Then I’ll destroy everything you have.”

“That’s what you do best, isn’t it?” she whispered bitterly. “Destroy. Because it’s the only thing you’ve ever been good at.”

“No,” he hissed. “Not as good as you. You wiped out the Time Lords. Twice.”

He stepped closer, the accusation heavy, meant to crush her under its weight.

“What?” Yaz turned, shocked. “But Doctor, that was you—”

“Leave it, Yaz,” the Doctor said quietly, a mournful smile brushing her lips. “Let him think what he wants. Let him stew in it.”

"Whether you want to or not, you're staying here with me, Doctor," the Master said, voice low and certain. "You'll travel with me. And eventually, I will uncover the truth. As for this one..." He gestured toward Yaz, a cruel gleam in his eye. "Shall I drop her off at the first stop? Or would you prefer I toss her corpse into a star?"

The Doctor stepped forward at once, placing herself firmly between Yaz and the Master—shielding her.

"You won’t lay a hand on her. I won’t allow it," she said, her voice trembling with restrained fury.

The Master tilted his head, then smiled darkly as he turned to Yaz. "Then tell me—where should I drop you, little human?"

"Nowhere," Yaz shot back without hesitation. "If you think I’m going to leave the Doctor alone with you, you’re delusional."

"Yaz, it’s too dangerous," the Doctor said softly. "I can handle him. But I can’t always protect you."

"And who’s going to protect you from him, Doctor?" Yaz countered fiercely. "I’m not leaving you. Ever."

The Master burst into laughter, mockery echoing in every note. "You think you can protect the Doctor from me? Oh, the idiocy of the human race—it never ceases to amuse me."

But Yaz reached out and took the Doctor’s hand, gripping it with quiet strength. The Doctor looked at her and her hardened expression softened into a smile. She squeezed Yaz’s hand in return. Together, they were stronger.

The Master’s smile vanished. His eyes narrowed.

"So be it," he muttered, cold and sharp. "But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I won’t be held responsible for what happens next."

And with that, he offered them a smile slow, sly, and brimming with malice.

Chapter 5: The Halloween Apocalypse. Part 1

Summary:

The Master is after Karvanista. The Doctor and Yaz, on the other hand are trying to stop the Master and save the universe.

Chapter Text

Everything had started once again with Master’s usual agenda: conquering the universe or at least several planetary systems, destroying a few races just for fun and above all, causing havoc to annoy the Doctor. But there was a difference this time. Inside Master’s TARDIS, the Doctor and her companion Yaz were present. Master was delighted to have one of them there, but not so much the other. However, he tolerated the presence of both, solely for the sake of the Doctor. In his mind, plans were already forming on how he could make Yaz suffer to inflict more pain on the Doctor. Should he throw her into a supernova, toss her into a black hole, turn her into a Dalek or shrink her down?

Despite Master trying to convince himself that he was handling the situation well with these two guests, things were already out of control. The collar around the Doctor’s neck was supposed to be a leash, but it constantly thwarted Master’s plans, interrupting him at every turn. Threats, electric shocks, even threatening to kill Yaz, none of them worked in the long run. He had even locked them in a room within his TARDIS, but the girls had somehow escaped. To sum it up, the last few weeks of traveling with the Doctor had been pure torture for Master. Even his old chronic headaches had returned and he was perpetually sleep-deprived. Meanwhile, the Doctor, on the other hand, was full of energy, constantly buzzing around, pestering him with questions and comments. Master knew he was patient and he was certain that he would eventually learn what the Doctor was hiding from him. But for now, there were more pressing matters.

Master had caught wind of something extraordinary—a force called Flux, a cosmic power capable of swallowing entire systems and worlds and he had secretly followed it, determined to keep the Doctor in the dark. If he could control it and conquer the universe, then even the Doctor would be forced to bow before him. If not, there were always alternatives: he could tie the Doctor up at the dog club again or toss him into a supernova.

But for now, because of the Doctor’s typical heroics and Master’s thwarted plans, the Doctor, Yaz, and Master found themselves suspended upside-down, shackled by their feet, in front of a monstrous dog-headed creature.

"Look at me, you pathetic creature," Master growled, his voice laced with disdain. "You're nothing, but a lowly, sub-intelligent dog. Having to even address you is an insult. But know this, the moment I get free, I will use your corpse as a mop in my TARDIS, I will roast your entire family and feed them to the crocodiles in my private garden. I will wipe out your entire race and explode your planet just for fun."

"Is it over, with all the pointless threats?" The Doctor asked, not looking particularly phased by Master’s tirade.

"No," Master gritted his teeth.

But the Doctor didn’t seem to care.

"Listen to me, Karvanista. If you think you’ve won this little skirmish, you’re terribly mistaken. Don’t imagine for a second that you’ve gotten the better of us. Right, Yaz?" The Doctor’s voice was confident, steady.

"Oh, yeah. We’re totally in control," Yaz said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Threatening me is quite amusing," Karvanista said, his voice low and menacing. "You two Time Lords are such a joke. From where I’m standing, you seem to be shackled to a gravity bar. In 79 seconds, you’ll be released into the boiling acid ocean below, where your bodies will instantly disintegrate. Even if you survive that—which you won’t—four minutes later, the entire planet will be engulfed by a nearby giant red star. Oh and if you try to escape, my Kill Disks will blast you to pieces."

"What?" Yaz and the Doctor both shouted in disbelief.

"Thank goodness, at least I’ve heard some good news today," Master muttered to himself, but no one was paying attention to him.

"Don’t worry. You’ll be dead long before then," Karvanista said, his voice fading as he disappeared from sight.

"Oh. I must admit, Yaz, I can’t help feeling that some of this is my fault," the Doctor said with a sigh.

"Some?" Yaz and Master both asked in unison, their voices synchronized.

"All of this is your fault," Master said, frustration evident in his tone.

"What do you mean? You were the one trying to take over Karvanista’s planet," the Doctor shot back.

"Accidentally blowing up Karvanista’s droid guards when we were trying to sneak into his base unnoticed?" Yaz jumped in, trying to mediate between the Doctor and Master.

"It was all to ruin Master’s plans!" the Doctor defended herself.

"We could’ve done this more calmly," Yaz argued.

"And how did you two manage to escape from the cage I locked you in on my TARDIS?" Master finally asked, the question gnawing at his mind.

"It’s very temperamental, Nitro-9," the Doctor said, ignoring Master and turning to Yaz.

"Suggesting we escape his base by air-surfing on the grav bar?"

"How was I to know that the force shield would reboot at the exact moment we were heading toward it?" the Doctor protested.

"And when we got captured, you had to mention the three sets of cuffs in your pocket," Yaz pointed out, her tone light but serious.

"Hey. We’re about to die in lava and you ruined my plans. And now we’re going to die because of a dog. Doctor, if I survive this, I swear I’ll tie you up and feed you like a dog at the doghouse for at least ten years!" Master growled, his anger reaching new heights.

The Doctor rolled her eyes, completely unaffected by the threat.

"Again? Doctor, did he turn you into a dog?" Yaz asked, wide-eyed and baffled by the madness of her two companions.

"No. But once, he did tie me up at the doghouse. That was a very long time ago," the Doctor explained.

Yaz’s mouth dropped open in shock and confusion, unsure how to react.

"Two words, Yaz: Trapezium Seven, Master?" The Doctor glanced at both Yaz and Master.

"Okay," Yaz said, still processing what she had just heard.

"No. Do not try it," Master interjected, shaking his head vehemently.

"Trapezium Seven. That high-gravity circus workshop. Who were the top three in the class?"

"I wasn’t good at sports!" Master screamed, trying to divert the conversation.

Yaz involuntarily recalled the memory of Spymaster trailing behind the plane, gasping for breath.

"They really are the same people," Yaz muttered to herself, her mind reeling.

"Ready?" The Doctor asked both of them.

"No!" Master and Yaz answered together.

"Me neither. I love being unprepared. Three, two, one. Alley-oop."

"How am I the crazy one?" Master yelled in pure panic.

They swung themselves upright onto the grav bar just as the foot-locks released. The Doctor and Yaz managed to turn around and hold on, but Master couldn’t grip onto anything and was just about to fall into the boiling lava when, at the last second, he grabbed onto the Doctor’s legs and coat.

"Don’t pull me down," the Doctor shouted at him, struggling to keep her balance.

"This is all your fault. If I die, you die," Master reminded her, shouting as he clung to her legs.

"If you throw him into the lava, maybe nothing will happen. You should try it, Doctor," Yaz said with a wink.

"Don’t," Master tightened his grip even more, now clinging to the Doctor’s feet for dear life.

"I would throw him, but I’m enjoying seeing him like this, clinging to my feet," the Doctor said, laughing with Yaz.

Master tried to suppress his rage, still gripping the Doctor’s legs. At this moment, his life was the only thing that mattered. He knew when to choose his pride and when to choose survival. Revenge on the Doctor and Yaz could wait.

The Kill Disks started firing. Master shut his eyes tightly, screaming like a child, holding onto the Doctor’s legs for dear life.

"Time to go," the Doctor said calmly.

The Doctor pulled a wire, starting the grav bar moving.

"How do we get these cuffs off?" Yaz asked, her voice tinged with panic.

"Very easily, Yasmin Khan. They’re voice-activated. That’s why I told him they were in my pocket. Release. Release."

"Release!" Yaz echoed, now shouting.

The grav bar began fracturing.

"Release! Release! Oh, maybe I was Scottish when I set them up. (rolls rrr's) Release. Release!!" The Doctor continued desperately.

"Doctor, you’re an idiot. You’re the disgrace of the Time Lords!" Master screamed and began swearing in Gallifreyan.

"You’re not helping, Master," the Doctor retorted.

"Doctor!" Yaz shouted in warning.

They swerved around an acid geyser and the Kill Disks flew straight into it.

"Doctor? The grav bar’s breaking," Yaz warned again.

"What?" Master raised his head, looking at the crack. "We’re going to die. Because of your ridiculous heroics, we’re going to die on this bloody planet, Doctor."

"That’s inconvenient," the Doctor said, as if it were just a minor issue.

It broke. They rode their pieces like broomsticks. Yaz went one way and the Doctor and Master, still clinging to each other, flew in the other direction.

"Release. Release. Release. Maybe it’s my tone of voice. It’s there! Call it!" The Doctor kept trying to command the cuffs.

Master saw his TARDIS below and cheered. He immediately telepathically issued a command to open the doors and he jumped inside. Seeing this, the Doctor immediately jumped after him, but before doing so, she shouted for Yaz to follow as well.

The TARDIS doors opened and Master landed comfortably on a bed with two glorious cravat-clad pillows. The Doctor landed next to him. But before Master could indulge in any fantasies about the comfort of the bed with the Doctor, Yaz landed on top of him, completely ruining the moment.

"Get this bloody animal off me! Get off! Off, off! Filthy creature!" Master screamed, trying to push Yaz off him with wild gestures.

Yaz, with the Doctor’s help, managed to get off Master. Master, now flushed with rage, stared at the two women, red with anger.

"I hate you both," he muttered, venom in his voice.

"Our feelings are mutual," Yaz quickly shot back.

Master noticed the cuffs were now off and immediately leapt to his feet, angry and primed for action.

"I’ll deal with you later, first I’m going to punish that dog-headed speedster for insulting me," he said, adjusting the TARDIS controls.

"No. First, we need to save this planet. Did you hear what he said? My family is there," Yaz reminded him.

"Your worthless race and planet are of no consequence to me," Master retorted, furiously entering coordinates.

The Doctor quickly pulled Yaz aside, trying to calm her down.

"If Master finds Karvanista, we’ll interrogate him and find out why he said that," the Doctor assured her.

"If Master doesn’t decapitate him first," Yaz replied, having learned enough about Master’s temper during their travels.

"Don’t worry, the planet and all of humanity are under my protection," the Doctor said quietly, trying to reassure Yaz.

Explosion from the console.

"That's the fourth time," says the Doctor.

"I know." The Master replies angrily, continuing to fiddle with the console. "This is the simplest trajectory. Earth. We should be there already. What's wrong with you? This is all your fault, Doctor. You must have broken something. My TARDIS would never act like this."

"Can’t admit he’s a bad pilot, so he blames me," the Doctor mutters, pouting.

"Who, me? Look who's talking."

Suddenly, something happens to the Doctor. Yaz doesn’t notice it at first, but the Master picks up on it instantly.

"Psychic connection reactivating, Doctor," says Swarm telepathically.

The Master feels the external telepathic force with his entire body. He immediately runs to the Doctor, grabbing her by both arms and shaking her, trying to bring her back to herself.

"Who's that? How am I seeing this?" The Doctor no longer sees the Master or Yaz, she’s unaware of where she is.

From the Master’s behavior, Yaz also realizes that something is wrong with the Doctor.

"What happened to her? What did you do to her?" Yaz asks.

"Shut up," the Master snaps, but then immediately starts explaining more to himself than to Yaz. "A powerful psychic force from outside is trying to take over the Doctor’s mind. No one gets to claim her but me."

Saying this, the Master places his hands on the Doctor’s temples, tilts her head up slightly and leans in just enough so their foreheads are almost touching. He channels all his telepathic energy into her mind and violently repels the foreign intrusion.

The Doctor staggers back, coming to her senses, and finally sees the Master in front of her worried, uncharacteristically so. She pushes his hands away and steps back two paces. Then she turns to Yaz. Seeing the same worry in Yaz’s eyes confirms something’s wrong.

"Who was that?" the Master asks with full seriousness.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." The Doctor is more afraid of what the Master might have seen in her mind than of what she saw herself.

"I’m talking about the psychic force trying to seize your mind. Did it feel familiar to you? It didn’t feel familiar to me."

"It wasn’t a psychic attack. If it was, I’d know. It was just a simple vision, a hallucination. I get them sometimes." The Doctor shrugged.

"Like the death of the Lord President?" The Master chuckled. "Doctor, you’re still weak when it comes to telepathy and mind control. That was a psychic attack. It came from the outside."

"That’s not what matters now." The Doctor averted her eyes. "What matters is saving the planet. Saving the people."

"I decide what matters. And right now, the only thing that matters is you."

At that remark, Yaz raised an eyebrow and looked at the two Time Lords.

Who were they really? Two enemies? Two old friends? Two lovers who never got the timing right?
Even if the Doctor denied it, she looked at the Master with something far beyond old friendship. And no matter how insistently the Master called her his enemy, his feelings were far stronger than that.

Yaz was aware of the tension between them not just emotional, but unmistakably sexual. And just as the Master, though never admitting it, was jealous of Yaz’s closeness to the Doctor, Yaz too was jealous of the Master. Because something deep inside her knew the bond between them was stronger, more primal, unbreakable. They were like two halves of the same coin.

The Master’s TARDIS suddenly began to calcify, strange crystalline growths creeping across the coral like surfaces, while a low hiss signalled fuel leaking inward through unseen seams.

"Doctor. Master!" Yaz called out, catching their attention. "Have you seen this? It's like the TARDIS is leaking."

The Doctor immediately raised her sonic screwdriver, scanning the walls with a tense frown. The Master, meanwhile, was already at the console, pulling up data streams, his eyes flicking rapidly over the readings. From the shared look on their faces, it was obvious neither of them had found anything remotely reassuring.

"Do you know what it is?" Yaz asked, glancing between them.

"Nothing to worry about. It's fine. I'm fine, TARDIS is fine. We're all fine." The Doctor tried to maintain her usual upbeat tone, though it rang a little hollow.

"We'll be on Earth any moment. Right, dateline. October 31st," said the Master.

"Halloween. Trick or treat," Yaz remarked.

Both the Doctor and the Master turned to look at her as if she’d just triggered an electric current through the room. For the Doctor, those words echoed the ones spoken earlier by that strange, elusive creature in her vision and the Master had heard them too.

"Don’t look at me like that. We say it that way too," Yaz defended herself, unnerved by the way the two Time Lords were now staring at her.

The Master’s TARDIS materialised on a quiet street, its chameleon circuit rendering it in the guise of a large lorry parked neatly among the rows of cars.

The Doctor, the Master and Yaz stepped out into the cool night air.

"The only thing I like about the Master’s TARDIS is how it can look completely different from the outside," Yaz remarked.

"That’s the only thing you like? My craft is far more advanced than that" the Master jabbed a finger towards the Doctor, "heap of scrap metal she pilots."

"Yaz, I’m offended. Don’t say such things in front of my TARDIS. She’d sulk for weeks."

The Doctor’s mock wounded tone earned an eye-roll from the Master, who turned away as the Doctor began to scan their surroundings.

"Liverpool. Anfield. Klopp era. Classic. Ooh, Yaz, maybe we could take in a game. I've seen the Barcelona match nine times. I was a ball boy for Trent, once," the Doctor enthused.

"I’ve never cared for sport. Science and music are far superior," the Master commented.

"We’ve seen how well your science holds up in those plans of yours that never work. And as for music, you can’t keep time to a beat. You can’t even hear music properly. If you’d just try—"

"Ever wonder why?" The Master suddenly snapped, his voice rising with fury. "Could it be because my entire life I’ve been forced to hear only one sound? Because no one — not even you — ever believed me? You mocked me. You even mocked me aboard that Mondasian ship. Said I’d been fixed. Do you have any idea what it’s like to live with that sound? When I let you hear it, you couldn’t endure it for a single second. I lived with it for centuries."

Yaz didn’t understand what sound they were talking about, but she could feel the weight of it. This was important.

The Master was expecting at least an apology. But the Doctor had never forgiven him and the collar still around her neck certainly didn’t inspire her pity.

"You think I’d apologise? Even without those drums in your head, you’d still choose the path you’re on. And now they’re gone and you’re still chasing evil." The Doctor fixed him with a hard stare.

The Master had half a mind to strangle her right there and then, but Yaz stepped in.

"Number 37. Wasn’t that the address we were looking for?" Yaz pointed towards a nearby house.

The Doctor gave the Master a dismissive look and strode ahead. Yaz hurried after her. The Master forcing himself to regain composure.

The front door was ajar.

"And a door that’s left open. Anyone home? I’m guessing single bloke, definitely a Red," Yaz said, stepping inside and glancing around her eyes falling on a football kit draped over a chair.

"Someone’s made a right mess in here," the Doctor observed, sweeping the sonic screwdriver around to detect any alien anomalies.

"Urgh. Stun cube. Lupari tech. Karvanista was here. Looks like he took whoever lived here. Why would he do that?"

"Daniel Lewis. This could be him," Yaz concluded, from photographs stuck to the fridge and unopened letters on the counter.

"So where is he now? Ah. Quick check of planetary orbit. Nice laptop, Dan. Right." The Doctor picked up the laptop from the table and began tapping rapidly.

"There. Seven point two minutes ago. Karvanista’s ship, leaving Earth, shielded against detection. We’re just behind him." She grinned, pleased at having beaten the Master to the trail.

"So where’s he going?" Yaz asked.

"Why am I getting multiple traces? Hang on while I zoom out. Seven billion Lupari ships coming this way?" the Doctor murmured, eyes on the screen.

"That’s an invasion fleet, right?" Yaz said again.

The Master finally strode into the house, visibly irritated. The Doctor looked up at him with a smile, beckoning him over to the laptop.

"Master, look at this. Karvanista’s species, all heading here. Why was he ahead of them? And why did he take the bloke who lives here?"

The Master glanced at the screen and immediately swore in Gallifreyan. In an instant he grabbed the Doctor by the arm, dragging her forcibly outside and shoving her clear. Yaz, bewildered, ran after them just in time. Seconds later, the house and everything inside it shrank down to the size of a dollhouse.

"How did you know?" the Doctor demanded.

"It’s a variant of the technology I use to shrink people. A larger-scale version," the Master explained coolly.

"I suppose I should thank you. You saved my life," the Doctor admitted with a smile.

"Let’s hope I don’t regret it, though looking at your face right now, I think I already do," the Master muttered.

At that moment, a woman approached them on the street.

"Oh my God. Doctor," she breathed, her eyes fixed on the Time Lord.

"Who’s this now? Doctor, does every ape on this planet know your name?" the Master asked with biting sarcasm.

"Thanks to you, they all memorised it," the Doctor shot back with a grin, reminding him of her victory at the end of the year-that-never-was.

The Master scowled.

"I didn’t expect to see you here. Not tonight," the woman said, ignoring their bickering.

"Hi. Really sorry, we’re in the middle of something quite important. You can get your autograph from your hero later," the Master said dryly.

"Have we met?" the Doctor asked.

"Not yet, but we will. In the past, I think, if it’s true. I’m Claire," the woman replied.

"If what’s true, Claire? You don’t seem too sure about your past," the Doctor noted.

"Oh God, look at your faces. I know I sound like a loon. Don’t let me distract you. I didn’t even know you’d be here. I was just… taking the long way home, because it’s Halloween," she said.

"We don’t have time for this, Doctor. We need to go," the Master urged, shoving the Doctor towards the TARDIS.

"It’s okay. We’ll see each other again," Claire called after them, waving.

"Look after yourself," Yaz added, slipping inside before the Master could close the door.

In the guise of a massive lorry, the Master’s TARDIS dematerialised before Claire’s eyes. She didn’t flinch — as if she had known all along it would vanish.

The moment they stepped into the Master’s TARDIS, they knew something was wrong. The interior usually so constant despite the shifting of time and space felt… unsettled. The warm golden glow of the roundels seemed to pulse irregularly, casting fleeting shadows that danced across the coral-like pillars. And the doors…

"Whoa. That’s not right," the Doctor murmured, her eyes darting to the far wall.

"The door’s moved," Yaz reported, taking a few cautious steps forward.

"See?" The Doctor immediately seized the opportunity to boast. "You complain, but my TARDIS never plays tricks like this."

"Before you two showed up, my TARDIS never did this either," the Master retorted coldly. "Which is why I never let apes aboard my ship."

"Hey, I haven’t done anything!" Yaz protested.

"I think the problem’s you. You’ve always been a terrible pilot," the Doctor pressed on, her voice dripping with deliberate provocation. She knew she couldn’t escape the journey not with the control collar locked around her neck, but if she could needle the Master enough, maybe he’d slip, maybe he’d lose control, maybe he’d let her go.

Unfortunately, the Master was ready for this game. His eyes glinted with amusement as he gave her a slow, almost predatory smile.

"Hold on tight, Doctor," he said softly.

She barely had time to register the warning before the TARDIS lurched violently into motion. The time rotor screamed, the console room tilted at a sickening angle and both the Doctor and Yaz were hurled from one side of the chamber to the other, skidding across the metal floor.

When the grinding, shuddering motion finally stopped, the Doctor lay sprawled on her back. The air was still ringing with the TARDIS’s deep hum, now low and satisfied, like a cat after mischief.

Hands in his pockets, the Master strolled casually over to where she lay, looking down at her with a smirk.

"You’re right. I am a terrible pilot. Better watch yourself, Doctor… wouldn’t want you to end up a casualty of my driving."