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Description
"Who was it that said 'Art is the absence of restraint'?"
Sarah, recalling the last 'art' exhibition she'd been to, volunteered;
"A git?"
The Master, unperturbed, continued;
"Oh but can't you see, Miss Smith, this is my Art, my destiny-to have a world, many worlds beneath me in adoration or fear!"
"Oh yes, I'll definitely have a pint of what you're drinking!"
He beamed at her;
"Oh I like you Sarah Jane Smith but you just don't appreciate me," he leaned-in conspiratorially, "...I'm really just 'the boy next-door'."
The reporter narrowed her eyes;
"If you were the boy next door, I'd move!"
The goatie'd gent hung his head and jutted out his lower lip to give a wounded expression. She almost grinned but had to fight it-this was 'The Bad Guy' wasn't it? Forcing herself, she got back to the matter in hand though she knew the Doctor would have handled it better than she could;
"No-one deals with The Daleks! They're ruthless killing-machines that look on all other life-forms as an obstacle, something to be got rid of. They've got no remorse, no mercy, no conscience and about as much chance of keeping a 'Business Arrangement' as I have of winning Miss World!"
He seemed more pleased than ever and even applauded her;
"Well done Sarah, a tirade worthy of The Doctor himself!" She glared at him as he continued in a condescending tone, "But in all probability, I believe I am quite capable of handling..." His conversation tailed-off as he swung back to the television, diverted by the drama that was currently playing on it. Sarah puzzled, also craned her neck around him to see what it was.
Fred Astaire, having lost all his money at roulette and shunned by his former friends contemplated a pearl-handled revolver. Then, foiling Ginger Rogers' attempt to take her own life, sung the immortal words;
"There may be trouble ahead," The Master's hand shot-out to Sarah and she flinched as he clutched her fingers, yanking her out of the chair till they stood nose to nose, echoing the two monochromatic figures on the screen, "...but while there's moonlight and music and love and romance," They circled around the room with Sarah finding it harder and harder to hate this 'Anti-Doctor' as they danced together to Irving Berlin's tune, "...let's face the music and dance!"
Sarah forced herself to remember that this person was evil despite his charm. Perhaps this was a way of softening her up? He'd failed earlier when he'd tried to use his powers on her. If you expected it to happen you could steel yourself against it. Nevertheless, she found it hard to dislike him-perhaps this was his strength? She hung back on his arm as the music drew to a close and the dialogue began.
"You know Miss Smith," he began, regretfully, "... that creativity is one of the few reasons I haven't destroyed this world-it would be nice to own as a bauble."
The reporter shook herself out of her reverie and gritted her teeth as she pulled away from him;
"Great art and music was never forced out of anyone! People need freedom-free reign!"
"As do I in my endeavours, Sarah. Think of it, you could be at my side as I rule over my adoring minions!"
"I wouldn't last a week!"
He looked hurt and his brow furrowed as she continued;
"The Daleks will never obey you, once you're of no further use to them they'll kill you as they do everyone else! If you've helped them, you've condemmed us all to Hell!"
He shrugged-it was of no concern to him and turned to the television. Sarah, taking a chance eased the wine bottle out of the ice-bucket and crept towards him as he leaned over. She held the bottle tight by it's neck as he fiddled with the VCR controls and raised it for the knockout blow. In a blur of movement however, the sleek, panther-like man spun and aimed the video-control at her.
An incredible crushing-force descended on her as the world seemed to rush away from her into infinity, her ears popping she thankfully lost conciousness...

TO BE CONTINUED

Description
"Who was it that said 'Art is the absence of restraint'?"
Sarah, recalling the last 'art' exhibition she'd been to, volunteered;
"A git?"
The Master, unperturbed, continued;
"Oh but can't you see, Miss Smith, this is my Art, my destiny-to have a world, many worlds beneath me in adoration or fear!"
"Oh yes, I'll definitely have a pint of what you're drinking!"
He beamed at her;
"Oh I like you Sarah Jane Smith but you just don't appreciate me," he leaned-in conspiratorially, "...I'm really just 'the boy next-door'."
The reporter narrowed her eyes;
"If you were the boy next door, I'd move!"
The goatie'd gent hung his head and jutted out his lower lip to give a wounded expression. She almost grinned but had to fight it-this was 'The Bad Guy' wasn't it? Forcing herself, she got back to the matter in hand though she knew the Doctor would have handled it better than she could;
"No-one deals with The Daleks! They're ruthless killing-machines that look on all other life-forms as an obstacle, something to be got rid of. They've got no remorse, no mercy, no conscience and about as much chance of keeping a 'Business Arrangement' as I have of winning Miss World!"
He seemed more pleased than ever and even applauded her;
"Well done Sarah, a tirade worthy of The Doctor himself!" She glared at him as he continued in a condescending tone, "But in all probability, I believe I am quite capable of handling..." His conversation tailed-off as he swung back to the television, diverted by the drama that was currently playing on it. Sarah puzzled, also craned her neck around him to see what it was.
Fred Astaire, having lost all his money at roulette and shunned by his former friends contemplated a pearl-handled revolver. Then, foiling Ginger Rogers' attempt to take her own life, sung the immortal words;
"There may be trouble ahead," The Master's hand shot-out to Sarah and she flinched as he clutched her fingers, yanking her out of the chair till they stood nose to nose, echoing the two monochromatic figures on the screen, "...but while there's moonlight and music and love and romance," They circled around the room with Sarah finding it harder and harder to hate this 'Anti-Doctor' as they danced together to Irving Berlin's tune, "...let's face the music and dance!"
Sarah forced herself to remember that this person was evil despite his charm. Perhaps this was a way of softening her up? He'd failed earlier when he'd tried to use his powers on her. If you expected it to happen you could steel yourself against it. Nevertheless, she found it hard to dislike him-perhaps this was his strength? She hung back on his arm as the music drew to a close and the dialogue began.
"You know Miss Smith," he began, regretfully, "... that creativity is one of the few reasons I haven't destroyed this world-it would be nice to own as a bauble."
The reporter shook herself out of her reverie and gritted her teeth as she pulled away from him;
"Great art and music was never forced out of anyone! People need freedom-free reign!"
"As do I in my endeavours, Sarah. Think of it, you could be at my side as I rule over my adoring minions!"
"I wouldn't last a week!"
He looked hurt and his brow furrowed as she continued;
"The Daleks will never obey you, once you're of no further use to them they'll kill you as they do everyone else! If you've helped them, you've condemmed us all to Hell!"
He shrugged-it was of no concern to him and turned to the television. Sarah, taking a chance eased the wine bottle out of the ice-bucket and crept towards him as he leaned over. She held the bottle tight by it's neck as he fiddled with the VCR controls and raised it for the knockout blow. In a blur of movement however, the sleek, panther-like man spun and aimed the video-control at her.
An incredible crushing-force descended on her as the world seemed to rush away from her into infinity, her ears popping she thankfully lost conciousness...

TO BE CONTINUED