Chapter Text
The master prowls back down the floating pathway, the killing adding a cat like grace to his movements, sences now heightened and awoke because of the sight and smell of blood.
The sight of death of course hadn't always lit a fire under the master, but the past had drilled holes into his mind and soul, it's purity being poured into Rassalons cup, to be then drained and lost forever.
Of course the doctor had taken her time as well, wandering through his heart and panicking when she got lost too deep, tearing at it when trying to escape, leaving him to die in a forest alone.
And he wanted to say it didn't matter, that none of it mattered anymore but of course it did. It dug splitters Into his joy, twisted pain and sadness into rage, curdled love to obsession.
He backtracks until he reaches the last split in paths now dipping down the path on the left with feather light steps, following the short path to the platform at the end.
Racks apon racks of clothes spiralling around and around, getting more and more frivolous and fancy.
The master slowly prowls through the rows of racks, peeking through some of the clothes now and then, but steadily loosing faith by the second and conscious of the diminishing time left.
Finally giving up with a huff he wanders back around the spiral of clothes and all the way back to the central control system.
Ryan stays huddled down on the floor in a clothes rack, under some motheaten looking cloak. His body trembling and eyes wide with pure panic, having heard the masters footsteps and seen him prowling around. Knowing who was close.
Knowing Graham was close by.
Only when he's sure the master has gone does Ryan leave his hiding spot, clumsy and stiff from being hunched up.
Walking slowly at first so as not to be too loud, Ryan leaves the clothes rack platform, heading towards where he knows Graham is.
Steps speeding up into a run as impatience and panic beat drums against his heart, stumbling and slowly a few times, struggling a little with the thin long and winding path.
Ryan watched horror films with his mates all the time back on earth, messing about and joking about how they would escape, what saw traps they could beat or which killers they could hide from.
So when the smell of blood hits the air, cold chills of dread wrack his body.
Then the paths ends.
pool completely still.
Water flat and dark.
Only one persons breathing to be heard.
.
.
.
.
Yaz had flinched so badly at the sound of the footsteps gently tapping across the floor at first.
The sound a jolt to the heart after silence for so long.
She had been constantly checking her watch, trying to move as little as possible while watching the minutes drip by.
Now, when he's here looking, she stays so perfectly still. Definitely not taking a peek at her watch anymore, to busy trying not to move even the tiniest bit
She'd found herself in a glossy kitchen setup to her slightly dismay, and fifty minutes ago had slid her way under one of the counter tops.
Meaning she now had a clear view of half the masters shoes from her spot wedged between the floor and bottom of the counter top.
Tap tap tap tap.
Fingers tapping on glossy black metal, nails bitten down with a slight red hue to them
The masters gaze flickering from oven to draws to cupboards.
His fingers movements an unconscious reflex now, something in his mind never having been able to quite give up on the drumming, a sound that had stayed with him for years of his life.
Still staying with him even now.
With a noise of frustration the cupboard doors are slammed open one after another by his frantic hands, pausing for a moment when that exposes no hiding humans.
Then sliding a hand under the counters and running it along, trying too feel for anything, either item of the ghost of a breath.
Snatching it back with a sound of frustration when he feels nothing, opening everything now.
The oven, draws, fridge and even a few sections of the floor that contains drink and packaged meat.
Only when the whole kitchen is laid bare to him does he try and calm his anger down, his solution being to grab one of the knives and hurl it downwards so it slams into the floor.
TARDIS wailing in complaint as it sinks in all the way to the handle, wailing again when the masters response is to mutter curses as he stalks out off the kitchen platform and up the pathway leading back to the central controls.
Yaz lets out the breath she was holding with a shudder, a single tears sliding down her cheek to drip into her hair, already half grey from the dust.
The face of her watch lights up with a tap.
One hour gone.
One hour left.