Chapter Thirteen, Part Two: What Goes Around, Comes AroundMature

The old man holds up the golden rings in a claw-like hand. They fall from his fingers like sunbeams, dangling on two separate chains in his grip. “Do you know, we think these are the same rings stolen from the Museum when the Eighth Doctor was here during the War. They allow you to experience your own timeline through presets in such a way that you don’t have to experience it twice. Clever little things. Rumour has it they were made for the Last Pythia and her Consort just before the beginning of the Rassilon Era by one of the Triumvirate. Oh, and I took the opportunity to place guards loyal to me outside the door. This room is ours. Say what you want.” 

The Master reaches over the Doctor’s prostrate form to knock a fist into the platter with the fish on, sending a bit of fluffy greens and little red fruit soaring away into a corner. The fish, however, he catches in his mouth like a diving bird, and takes a bite the size of Space Kansas. The big half-eaten Pnyy bass wobbles in his teeth, but stays put. His teeth are all there, thank you so much! Through the fish, he adds, “If  I hafe to wats youw gweathy wittwe buffard of a twoat gargwe thuthi one mowe time, I am goeen to sthoot mythewf.”

The End

0 comments about this story Feed