The Master (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beholdthedrums) wrote2009-12-15 04:39 am
beholdthedrums) wrote2009-12-15 04:39 am
Entry tags:
FIC: Agent Time Lord (part 1)
Fandom(s): Doctor Who/Men in Black
Character(s): The Master, the Doctor / Zed, J, and K.
Summary: UNIT and Torchwood are gone - disappeared, in fact. Not a trace left. At the same time, MIB has surfaced stronger than ever before, and the Doctor is determined to find the cause behind his missing friends, as well as prevent other damages.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2,171
For a really long while this was just collecting dust, because I didn't remember where I wanted to go with it. Originally after looking it over a few minutes ago, I was going to just post what I had, but as I was doing so something spat itself out so I could figure out what to do. SO. This may actually be continued sometime soon in the near future.
It has fun Time Lord banter :D
Or at least I think it's fun lol.
And you can likely get along without knowing anything of MIB.
Agent Time Lord
Part 1
“I hate wearing suits. Something bad always happens when I wear suits.”
“Something bad always happens to you no matter what you wear, Doctor. You sniff out trouble the instant you step foot on a planet.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the fault of being a Time Lord.”
“Funny, I’ve never had that sort of fault.”
“Well…” the Doctor almost can’t think of a comeback. He distracts himself with fixing his tie, occasionally eying the bustling street of Manhattan at dusk. Streetlights flicker on overhead. Perfect timing, that. “You were always the one making the trouble.”
“Still am.” The Master grins. He’s standing at the Doctor’s side, talking to traffic rather than the other himself.
“About that. About…” the Doctor waves a hand through the air, “this. I’m starting to think it’s a bad idea.”
“All my ideas are good ideas.”
“What? No they’re not!”
The Master glances over briefly, just to scowl at him. The Doctor hardly seems baffled. Pity. Sometimes he misses the old days where he could strike fear into the eyes of the other. Real, true fear. He sighs, shakes his head, and eyes the clouded sky above. “And what do you see wrong with this idea, Doctor?”
“They’re not so bad, these people.”
“They have guns, Doctor. Surely that hits a nerve with you.”
“They’re nice.”
“The guns?” the Master turns to him, looking amused.
For a moment, the Doctor gapes. It’s a brief moment. “No, the people. Lot better than UNIT ever was, really. Not just stopping alien invasions. They’re protecting aliens that live here. Better than Torchwood in that regards, too. We could waltz right up to them and they wouldn’t care.”
“We are waltzing right up to them, Doctor. That’s the plan.”
The Doctor rolls his eyes. “As aliens, not agents.” He fiddles with his cuffs irritably. He really hates suits. “And anyway, the agent card is hardly going to work, psychic paper or not. They probably know better.”
“They more than likely pay no attention to the London Division.”
“If there even is a London Division.”
The Master smirks. He rests an arm along a nearby trashcan and taps quickly against it. “They’ll think there is, whether they like it or not.”
“Oh no, Master. No! We’re not manipulating these people!” The Doctor just groans and runs a hand down his face. He’s rather surprised they haven’t attracted much for attention, but most people don’t stay on the street corner long before moving on. He’s grateful for that. “Blimey, that’s your method for everything, isn’t it…”
“It’s my specialty, of course. At least I have one.”
“Oi! I have a specialty.”
“Oh really. Running hardly counts, and neither does yelling at people to ‘stop it’ – as if that ever works.” At least he can still invoke annoyance from the Doctor. What a plus. He glances around them, thinking. They should be on their way about now. Good time. The Doctor doesn’t even try to come with a response, so he simply quirks a brow at him and grins, “Ready?”
“No.”
They walk side by side towards 504 Battery Drive. Tunnel Authority, yeah right.
Despite the Doctor’s earlier dislike for this idea, he already was sinking into his ‘part’, and one couldn’t really blame him. Curiosity was always a high drive of his, and playing this off right meant that they could find themselves looking at all sorts of fun toys from other aliens races. Then they could really decide if this operation deserved its place amongst the stars.
“You’re a pair of new faces,” a man remarks from a bench inside. He turns a page of his newspaper.
They pay him no mind, and the Master presses an elevator call button, only then glancing over his shoulder and dryly remarking, “That’s what everyone says.” And then they slip through the doors.
“What floor?” the Doctor mutters when they shut again.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe down. Probably as far down as it can go.”
“Right.” Again he composes himself, folding his hands in front of him and rolling his shoulders to get an itch that the suit causes. If only there was something else they could be wearing. They finally start walking into what looks like an airport, really. Not that the Doctor had been in many airports. Didn’t have to, TARDIS and all that. Except there was this one time…
A short man in a similar suit stumbles over to them after pushing between two seven-foot tall squids. “Excuse me, sirs, I’d like to see your ID,” he babbles quickly, darting glances at both of them.
The Doctor flashes his psychic paper. “MIB, London Division. I’m Agent D, this is Agent M.” He pockets it again quickly and straightens.
The Master continues, “Our superiors sent us in light of a recent Racnoss transmission we received. Any other communication other than in-person we believe to be compromised currently. Regarding this, we would like to speak with who’s in charge.”
“I –” the man glances away, as if looking for some help, but finding none he nods slowly. “I see. Yes, well. If you follow me… I can set up a meeting place for you.”
The Doctor nods and he follows the man alongside the Master. He resists the urge to look around and take in the sites, but as they walk and he manages glimpses of other aliens moving through customs, he names them all in his mind with a giddy amusement.
Certainly better so far than UNIT or Torchwood.
They’re taken to a small, stuffy white room (as is the general theme.. whites, silvers, clear..) and take a seat on one side of an oval table and wait. No more talking between them about plans and plots; no slipping of personas. Who knew if anyone was monitoring them.
At least they didn’t have long to wait. A larger man in a suit (really, that was the whole point, they all wore suits) walks in, greeting them with a shake of their hands and a nod. He calls himself Zed. For someone in charge, it’s amusing that he holds last place in the alphabet. “Right then. To business, shall we?” He sits across from them. “You’re here regarding the Racnoss, or so I was told. Last I heard they were long gone from this planet, or anywhere else, for that matter.”
“We thought the same thing. We were under the impression that Harold Saxon sent them running,” the Master responds, careful to hide his amusement. He leans against the table.
“Harold Saxon, is that right? You and he share similar appearances.”
Similar? Ha! Exact. “Really?” the Master asks, sounding awed. “I sometimes hear that. It’s always fascinating.”
“The Racnoss,” the Doctor interrupts the Master sharply. It never gets old for him, does it? Still, even mentioning the Racnoss gives him chills, fake or not. He wished they were using the cover of the Sycorax or something! At least he had a good battle. Shame Harriet Jones destroyed them.
“Yes, of course. They’ve contacted you?”
“That’s right,” the Master says, idly tapping one hand along the table’s surface. “Seems like our previous inkling about their complete destruction was wrong. A new empress has surfaced, and let’s just say… despite her rise to power, she’s quite unhappy about the death of her predecessor on London soil.”
“And you believe your communications are compromised?”
“Yeah, see,” the Doctor breaks in. He rubs at his neck. “You know London, always getting into trouble. Have some bugs crawling around our systems that hopefully will be gone by the time we’re back.”
“I see.” Zed glances at a watch on his wrist then rubs his brows. “And the Racnoss’ order?”
“It’s a tall one, as always,” the Master answers. “Earth as a breeding ground, starting with London, moving out. All us humans being a nice little meal for the children. They’re still several weeks out, but with our headquarters in an array of trouble, you can understand why we were sent here.”
Sounded pretty believable. Still, another pair of men entered the room, wearing shades and all. Both Time Lords look up sharply at them.
Zed stands and walks over to them. “The consensus?”
“There is, still, no London Division.”
“Thought so.”
The Master draws in a breath and leans back, mumbling to the Doctor, “Boy, they work fast. You’re right, much better than UNIT.”
The Doctor groans. “I hate you.”
Zed turns back to them. “So, if you aren’t with London, where are you really from?”
“We’re from nowhere,” the Doctor answers, glaring at the Master. “Still, just some regular old folk checking in to be sure everything is up to snuff and actually doing a good job. You can never be too sure. Organizations fall through all the time.” UNIT and Torchwood did, after all. That was still hard to believe. He cringes, wondering if he’ll ever be able to find Martha and Jack again… They had to be out there, somewhere.
“Oh no, I don’t think so. Security’s gotten good. ‘Regular old folk’ wouldn’t have been able to just barge on into our headquarters!” one of the other men barks.
“J,” the older man besides him says placating, and then they both fall silent again.
“Oh, I know a great test, Doctor,” the Master says, clapping his hands together and looking overly amused. Most of it is fake, and they both know it.
“Please don’t,” the Doctor responds, annoyed. He knows the Master will, anyway.
“What do you know of Time Lords?”
“Stuff of legend,” comes the quick response from the older man.
“Aw, K, really. Even I heard of Time Lord talk. …Once.” J doesn’t look completely sure, though. K just sends him a dull glanc.
“Well, that’s better than I blank stare, I suppose,” the Doctor mumbles, resting his chin in a hand. “Might I ask what the legends say?”
“‘Time Lords’ also fall under ‘classified’ so, no, you may not,” Zed answers.
“Funny,” the Master laughs, leaning back in his chair and elbowing the other. “We don’t even get to hear stories about ourselves.”
“Shame. I was kind of curious.”
“Kind of? Please, you’re always curious.”
“Uh, okay. What exactly is going on now?” J breaks in, confused.
“We’re Time Lords,” the Master says, standing up. He folds his arms and smirks. “And we’re taking over.”
The Doctor gets up quickly after hearing that and waves his arms a bit frantic, as if to clear away everything that has ever come out of the Master’s mouth. “No! No we’re not!” Then he glares at the other. “That is not funny.”
“Hm. I thought it was. Ah well.” The Master simply shrugs. “Fine. You go ahead and tell the truth, then.”
“Honest, we’re not taking over or anything,” the Doctor says quickly. “We just… Torchwood and UNIT, they both fell through at the same time. Everyone that’s been a part of them are gone. Disappeared. No trace, nothing. Trust me. I looked.”
“He did,” the Master agrees. “It was all very annoying.”
The Doctor ignores him and goes on, “And then around the same time MIB was suddenly building its way up, a bit more noticeable. Which is all just very strange, given what happened with every other organization that had to do with aliens. I had friends in those places.”
“If you’re suggesting MIB had anything to do with those instances, you’re wrong,” Zed answers. “We are as much out of the loop as you.”
In the background, J whispers, “Are they really Time Lords?”
“Yes!” the Master snaps. “We’re really Time Lords! Ones who would really like to clear up this whole situation, because it’s really starting to get boring!” His eyes narrow. “And I think you’re lying.”
“And I think you’re a load of –”
“Everyone! Just calm down a tick, please! Master, I really don’t think they have anything to do with it. I only agreed to this so we could talk to them.”
“Of course. All you ever do is talk.”
Talk, talk, talk…
“Well, what do you expect us to say?” J asks them, crossing his arms and trying to make himself possibly look taller. Antsy fellow. “We don’t know what’s going on. Stuff happens. Probably got onboard with the wrong alien boy band and got mowed over. There’s nothing we can do, we’re busy fendin’ off invasions and trying to clean up the mess that your friends all left us to deal with.”
“They wouldn’t have been knocked down so easily!” the Doctor shouts, surprising most of the room. Even the Master raises a brow at his outburst. “Something happened. Something big, and why should it stop there? Why knock down two of the pegs while there’s still more standing? They could do it, you know. MIB looks good – real good, in fact. I don’t admit this a lot.
“But whatever it is that made this others disappear, it’s going to be back. It’s going to be here. When that happens, you people are my only link to finding my companions.”
Humor aside, it'll end up going down a rather serious turn.
Character(s): The Master, the Doctor / Zed, J, and K.
Summary: UNIT and Torchwood are gone - disappeared, in fact. Not a trace left. At the same time, MIB has surfaced stronger than ever before, and the Doctor is determined to find the cause behind his missing friends, as well as prevent other damages.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2,171
For a really long while this was just collecting dust, because I didn't remember where I wanted to go with it. Originally after looking it over a few minutes ago, I was going to just post what I had, but as I was doing so something spat itself out so I could figure out what to do. SO. This may actually be continued sometime soon in the near future.
It has fun Time Lord banter :D
Or at least I think it's fun lol.
And you can likely get along without knowing anything of MIB.
Agent Time Lord
Part 1
“I hate wearing suits. Something bad always happens when I wear suits.”
“Something bad always happens to you no matter what you wear, Doctor. You sniff out trouble the instant you step foot on a planet.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the fault of being a Time Lord.”
“Funny, I’ve never had that sort of fault.”
“Well…” the Doctor almost can’t think of a comeback. He distracts himself with fixing his tie, occasionally eying the bustling street of Manhattan at dusk. Streetlights flicker on overhead. Perfect timing, that. “You were always the one making the trouble.”
“Still am.” The Master grins. He’s standing at the Doctor’s side, talking to traffic rather than the other himself.
“About that. About…” the Doctor waves a hand through the air, “this. I’m starting to think it’s a bad idea.”
“All my ideas are good ideas.”
“What? No they’re not!”
The Master glances over briefly, just to scowl at him. The Doctor hardly seems baffled. Pity. Sometimes he misses the old days where he could strike fear into the eyes of the other. Real, true fear. He sighs, shakes his head, and eyes the clouded sky above. “And what do you see wrong with this idea, Doctor?”
“They’re not so bad, these people.”
“They have guns, Doctor. Surely that hits a nerve with you.”
“They’re nice.”
“The guns?” the Master turns to him, looking amused.
For a moment, the Doctor gapes. It’s a brief moment. “No, the people. Lot better than UNIT ever was, really. Not just stopping alien invasions. They’re protecting aliens that live here. Better than Torchwood in that regards, too. We could waltz right up to them and they wouldn’t care.”
“We are waltzing right up to them, Doctor. That’s the plan.”
The Doctor rolls his eyes. “As aliens, not agents.” He fiddles with his cuffs irritably. He really hates suits. “And anyway, the agent card is hardly going to work, psychic paper or not. They probably know better.”
“They more than likely pay no attention to the London Division.”
“If there even is a London Division.”
The Master smirks. He rests an arm along a nearby trashcan and taps quickly against it. “They’ll think there is, whether they like it or not.”
“Oh no, Master. No! We’re not manipulating these people!” The Doctor just groans and runs a hand down his face. He’s rather surprised they haven’t attracted much for attention, but most people don’t stay on the street corner long before moving on. He’s grateful for that. “Blimey, that’s your method for everything, isn’t it…”
“It’s my specialty, of course. At least I have one.”
“Oi! I have a specialty.”
“Oh really. Running hardly counts, and neither does yelling at people to ‘stop it’ – as if that ever works.” At least he can still invoke annoyance from the Doctor. What a plus. He glances around them, thinking. They should be on their way about now. Good time. The Doctor doesn’t even try to come with a response, so he simply quirks a brow at him and grins, “Ready?”
“No.”
They walk side by side towards 504 Battery Drive. Tunnel Authority, yeah right.
Despite the Doctor’s earlier dislike for this idea, he already was sinking into his ‘part’, and one couldn’t really blame him. Curiosity was always a high drive of his, and playing this off right meant that they could find themselves looking at all sorts of fun toys from other aliens races. Then they could really decide if this operation deserved its place amongst the stars.
“You’re a pair of new faces,” a man remarks from a bench inside. He turns a page of his newspaper.
They pay him no mind, and the Master presses an elevator call button, only then glancing over his shoulder and dryly remarking, “That’s what everyone says.” And then they slip through the doors.
“What floor?” the Doctor mutters when they shut again.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe down. Probably as far down as it can go.”
“Right.” Again he composes himself, folding his hands in front of him and rolling his shoulders to get an itch that the suit causes. If only there was something else they could be wearing. They finally start walking into what looks like an airport, really. Not that the Doctor had been in many airports. Didn’t have to, TARDIS and all that. Except there was this one time…
A short man in a similar suit stumbles over to them after pushing between two seven-foot tall squids. “Excuse me, sirs, I’d like to see your ID,” he babbles quickly, darting glances at both of them.
The Doctor flashes his psychic paper. “MIB, London Division. I’m Agent D, this is Agent M.” He pockets it again quickly and straightens.
The Master continues, “Our superiors sent us in light of a recent Racnoss transmission we received. Any other communication other than in-person we believe to be compromised currently. Regarding this, we would like to speak with who’s in charge.”
“I –” the man glances away, as if looking for some help, but finding none he nods slowly. “I see. Yes, well. If you follow me… I can set up a meeting place for you.”
The Doctor nods and he follows the man alongside the Master. He resists the urge to look around and take in the sites, but as they walk and he manages glimpses of other aliens moving through customs, he names them all in his mind with a giddy amusement.
Certainly better so far than UNIT or Torchwood.
They’re taken to a small, stuffy white room (as is the general theme.. whites, silvers, clear..) and take a seat on one side of an oval table and wait. No more talking between them about plans and plots; no slipping of personas. Who knew if anyone was monitoring them.
At least they didn’t have long to wait. A larger man in a suit (really, that was the whole point, they all wore suits) walks in, greeting them with a shake of their hands and a nod. He calls himself Zed. For someone in charge, it’s amusing that he holds last place in the alphabet. “Right then. To business, shall we?” He sits across from them. “You’re here regarding the Racnoss, or so I was told. Last I heard they were long gone from this planet, or anywhere else, for that matter.”
“We thought the same thing. We were under the impression that Harold Saxon sent them running,” the Master responds, careful to hide his amusement. He leans against the table.
“Harold Saxon, is that right? You and he share similar appearances.”
Similar? Ha! Exact. “Really?” the Master asks, sounding awed. “I sometimes hear that. It’s always fascinating.”
“The Racnoss,” the Doctor interrupts the Master sharply. It never gets old for him, does it? Still, even mentioning the Racnoss gives him chills, fake or not. He wished they were using the cover of the Sycorax or something! At least he had a good battle. Shame Harriet Jones destroyed them.
“Yes, of course. They’ve contacted you?”
“That’s right,” the Master says, idly tapping one hand along the table’s surface. “Seems like our previous inkling about their complete destruction was wrong. A new empress has surfaced, and let’s just say… despite her rise to power, she’s quite unhappy about the death of her predecessor on London soil.”
“And you believe your communications are compromised?”
“Yeah, see,” the Doctor breaks in. He rubs at his neck. “You know London, always getting into trouble. Have some bugs crawling around our systems that hopefully will be gone by the time we’re back.”
“I see.” Zed glances at a watch on his wrist then rubs his brows. “And the Racnoss’ order?”
“It’s a tall one, as always,” the Master answers. “Earth as a breeding ground, starting with London, moving out. All us humans being a nice little meal for the children. They’re still several weeks out, but with our headquarters in an array of trouble, you can understand why we were sent here.”
Sounded pretty believable. Still, another pair of men entered the room, wearing shades and all. Both Time Lords look up sharply at them.
Zed stands and walks over to them. “The consensus?”
“There is, still, no London Division.”
“Thought so.”
The Master draws in a breath and leans back, mumbling to the Doctor, “Boy, they work fast. You’re right, much better than UNIT.”
The Doctor groans. “I hate you.”
Zed turns back to them. “So, if you aren’t with London, where are you really from?”
“We’re from nowhere,” the Doctor answers, glaring at the Master. “Still, just some regular old folk checking in to be sure everything is up to snuff and actually doing a good job. You can never be too sure. Organizations fall through all the time.” UNIT and Torchwood did, after all. That was still hard to believe. He cringes, wondering if he’ll ever be able to find Martha and Jack again… They had to be out there, somewhere.
“Oh no, I don’t think so. Security’s gotten good. ‘Regular old folk’ wouldn’t have been able to just barge on into our headquarters!” one of the other men barks.
“J,” the older man besides him says placating, and then they both fall silent again.
“Oh, I know a great test, Doctor,” the Master says, clapping his hands together and looking overly amused. Most of it is fake, and they both know it.
“Please don’t,” the Doctor responds, annoyed. He knows the Master will, anyway.
“What do you know of Time Lords?”
“Stuff of legend,” comes the quick response from the older man.
“Aw, K, really. Even I heard of Time Lord talk. …Once.” J doesn’t look completely sure, though. K just sends him a dull glanc.
“Well, that’s better than I blank stare, I suppose,” the Doctor mumbles, resting his chin in a hand. “Might I ask what the legends say?”
“‘Time Lords’ also fall under ‘classified’ so, no, you may not,” Zed answers.
“Funny,” the Master laughs, leaning back in his chair and elbowing the other. “We don’t even get to hear stories about ourselves.”
“Shame. I was kind of curious.”
“Kind of? Please, you’re always curious.”
“Uh, okay. What exactly is going on now?” J breaks in, confused.
“We’re Time Lords,” the Master says, standing up. He folds his arms and smirks. “And we’re taking over.”
The Doctor gets up quickly after hearing that and waves his arms a bit frantic, as if to clear away everything that has ever come out of the Master’s mouth. “No! No we’re not!” Then he glares at the other. “That is not funny.”
“Hm. I thought it was. Ah well.” The Master simply shrugs. “Fine. You go ahead and tell the truth, then.”
“Honest, we’re not taking over or anything,” the Doctor says quickly. “We just… Torchwood and UNIT, they both fell through at the same time. Everyone that’s been a part of them are gone. Disappeared. No trace, nothing. Trust me. I looked.”
“He did,” the Master agrees. “It was all very annoying.”
The Doctor ignores him and goes on, “And then around the same time MIB was suddenly building its way up, a bit more noticeable. Which is all just very strange, given what happened with every other organization that had to do with aliens. I had friends in those places.”
“If you’re suggesting MIB had anything to do with those instances, you’re wrong,” Zed answers. “We are as much out of the loop as you.”
In the background, J whispers, “Are they really Time Lords?”
“Yes!” the Master snaps. “We’re really Time Lords! Ones who would really like to clear up this whole situation, because it’s really starting to get boring!” His eyes narrow. “And I think you’re lying.”
“And I think you’re a load of –”
“Everyone! Just calm down a tick, please! Master, I really don’t think they have anything to do with it. I only agreed to this so we could talk to them.”
“Of course. All you ever do is talk.”
Talk, talk, talk…
“Well, what do you expect us to say?” J asks them, crossing his arms and trying to make himself possibly look taller. Antsy fellow. “We don’t know what’s going on. Stuff happens. Probably got onboard with the wrong alien boy band and got mowed over. There’s nothing we can do, we’re busy fendin’ off invasions and trying to clean up the mess that your friends all left us to deal with.”
“They wouldn’t have been knocked down so easily!” the Doctor shouts, surprising most of the room. Even the Master raises a brow at his outburst. “Something happened. Something big, and why should it stop there? Why knock down two of the pegs while there’s still more standing? They could do it, you know. MIB looks good – real good, in fact. I don’t admit this a lot.
“But whatever it is that made this others disappear, it’s going to be back. It’s going to be here. When that happens, you people are my only link to finding my companions.”
Humor aside, it'll end up going down a rather serious turn.