Chapter Six, Part Four: It's There For the Weight, DearMature

“Why don’t you explain for me then, Raspar, exactly why you seem so intent on demeaning the Doctor’s good name?” the Master says, stepping down and rearranging Raspar’s high-pointed blue collar, “I don’t care about mine; I don’t have one. But the Doctor is a goodie-goodie who’s died countless times so that you lot can sit on your arses and play Time Lord pinochle.” He stands, smiling now, one hand dancing a heavy silver coin back and forth across his knuckles.                                                                                                                               

“Oh, look here’s his Lordship Rassilon the Cardinal over the comms again. What’s it this time? Has he got a wedgie?” 

“Well, personally I think it’s funny that the Master made him Cardinal. Don’t you, Kenny?”says peacock-haired, effeminate Keflistian, getting up suddenly to dust off his trousers. But it seems Kenny has choked on a fish bone… rendering himself momentarily indisposed and coughing up blood on Keflistian’s robe. So Keflistian pats him on the back, wishes him a good regeneration and then walks off, in the direction of the disrobing room. 

The comms crackle nostalgically with a warning. “Intruder in the Citadel! Silver mask, blond hair! Don’t let him make it to the…” 

But a bowtied shadow pops into existence near one of the exits , a green-tipped sonic probe in hand. He raises the probe in the air; it blinks red, and then the comms spark, going silent, and he blips out again just as old Pasmo turns with a swish of robes to stare at the empty space the shadow no longer occupies. 

The Master yells in frustration at the cracking-fizzing interference. “Bit late, ‘my Lord Cardinal! A bit of forewarning would have been nice!”

The End

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