“Trust me. I can pick the sharp tacks out. Let’s say I learned the hard way what happens when you underestimate humans.”
He folds his fingers on the table, tapping together his thumbs.
“You built a bodily suit of armor? Does it fly? I should very much like to see the schematics and possibly conduct some experiments of my own.”
“You…You want to see it?” Kelsey asked, surprised, “Well, it’s based off my dad’s armor, so some people might not think it’s that special…But I seem to think it is. C’mon, I’ll show it to you.”
A small smile came up on her face as she opened up the TARDIS door, “But I swear, if you sell the blueprints to it or something, there’s gonna be a problem, because that has happened before, multiple times, and it’s…”
Her face dropped, “…gone wrong. Happened when I was eight, and when I was ten.”
In an instant, the gloominess washed from the young Stark’s face however, “But, that’s in the past now. C’mon, I’ll show you Data. That’s the name of the armor. And yes- it does fly. Would be useless if it didn’t.”
“My dear girl, generations of your lessers have considered inferior technologies to be ‘useful.’ I could hardly make assumptions, even given your excellent pedigree.”
Nevertheless the Master follows Kelsey readily to her workstation. Admittedly his reception of her fraught history is a little brusque; he brushes off such “extraneous” details of personal strife without so much as a sympathetic remark. He is far more preoccupied with what her mind has produced, and, in such a way as honors the Doctor for taking her under her wing, how he can praise her for such concrete achievements.
So he’s already climbing on top of a worktable to get a better look at the suit, drawing his laser screwdriver from his coat pocket and scanning its surface with the secondary sonic setting.
“No no no no NO,” he snaps, waving her off animatedly. “I would never. COME now. I’m practically your stepfather. No, I just want to see you put Data on and take her for a spin.”
“Well thank you, lamb. D’you suppose I can pull this look off? Yes, I rather enjoy the combination of beard, eyeliner and flowers. Renders the whole human ‘gender binary’ slippery. Might give one of you earth apes a conniption, wouldn’t that be droll.”
The Master smiles, and laughs; though the smile is cultivated from Greek statues of boyish renegade gods, and perfectly suited to a politician, the laugh is rough, unadorned and jovial. It’s a laugh that could get just a bit harsher and be truly menacing, yet at the moment, is more like a warm-kindled fire, and very, very infectious.
“Delightful. So you’re a human with no shortage of extra-terrestrial contact. Well hopefully, my dear, that means you’re more enlightened than the average earth ape.”
“Well, I hope so,” the girl returned the smile, but it wasn’t as perfected as his, “I try and be a better person than I was a a year ago, and the year before that. I guess helping people does that to you. I’ve met the Guardians of the Galaxy, mostly alien members. Very nice, and can kick butt when needed. Even though I built an armored suit to fight, it’s rare when I do. I mostly rescue people who can’t get out of buildings or places that can’t be reached. I did fight, however, a robot my dad created. Ultron was unleashed on the country of Sokovia, and all hell broke loose. Not to mention-…I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let’s just say that my chest has been reconstructed many times.”
The glint returned to her eye, shoulders relaxing from the tense state they were before, “I’m excited to travel with the both of you. The place The Doctor first took me to was Vienna. She found me sitting on a park bench by myself. In less than ten minutes, I guess I poured my heart and soul into someone who would actually listen to me for once.”
“Trust me. I can pick the sharp tacks out. Let’s say I learned the hard way what happens when you underestimate humans.”
He folds his fingers on the table, tapping together his thumbs.
“You built a bodily suit of armor? Does it fly? I should very much like to see the schematics and possibly conduct some experiments of my own.”
“You heard me right. I rigged the door so that everyone who enters this room, marked by yours truly as the room for voting for the racist candidate, gets zapped by this temporal manipulator, and sent to an era on Karr-Charrat during which all humans were called ‘anti-hydros’ and subject to capital punishment.”
The Master flashes a dazzlingly malicious grin.
“HehHAH, you think my campaigning days are over? Think again!”
“Oh, don’t tell me my oldest friend has yet again neglected to introduce me to her various copilots and … . cohorts and … companions and …”
The Master, five feet, nine inches of quixotic will incarnate, saunters around the console and flings up his hands in feigned surrender.
“Well, I’ve rather run out of terms for ‘mate’ beginning with c, so … what might you be again? Her illegitimate child, maybe? Not to put too indelicate a point on it, but you’re what, sixteen years old? Oh, anyroad. If she says you’re oop for the task of traveling with us, fine. I’m the Master. Basically, no one’s known the Doctor longer than me. Call me Koschei. Everyone finds it less abrasive these days.”
He strikes out a hand, and kisses the girl’s knuckles, debonair to a fault.
“And you, kiddo?”
“Kelsey Stark, pleased to meet you, Koschei,” the quiet teenager answered with a small smile replacing her confused look, “I’ve been traveling with The Doctor for a few months now, but then again, that’s just an estimate because I’ve been getting confused with the ‘being home in time for tea’ ideal, since it never really seems to work.”
Feeling the kiss on the back of her fingers, Kelsey’s dimples started to show, “So you two have known each other for hundreds of years? It’s been a bit strange trying to wrap my head around how us humans only survive for like a hundred years and then you and The Doctor came along. But, I’m getting used to it, just like the whole thing with you two being alien- to me, at least. My dad and I have met a lot of different races of alien, so when the Doctor told me she was one herself, I didn’t exactly freak out.”
She seemed at ease, trusting the Doctor implicitly and knowing that if this man was a friend of hers, then it was safe to say that he wouldn’t do harm to her.
The Master smiles, and laughs; though the smile is cultivated from Greek statues of boyish renegade gods, and perfectly suited to a politician, the laugh is rough, unadorned and jovial. It’s a laugh that could get just a bit harsher and be truly menacing, yet at the moment, is more like a warm-kindled fire, and very, very infectious.
“Delightful. So you’re a human with no shortage of extra-terrestrial contact. Well hopefully, my dear, that means you’re more enlightened than the average earth ape.”
Kelsey eyed the man in front of her with a glint of fear in her pupils. She didn’t expect him inside the TARDIS, she was expecting her friend, her teacher, her mother figure. It was shocking to her, as her eyes then darted behind him to see nobody else in the console room.
“I’m sorry- I was expecting the Doctor,” the blonde teenager quickly blurted out before placing a gentle hand on the TARDIS’ door. That ship was like a mother too- a very energetic mother. Wait- no. That was also the Doctor.
“Do..you know where she might be? And I thought only she could fly the TARDIS, except if there was another Time Lord. But you a-….Are you?”
“Oh, don’t tell me my oldest friend has yet again neglected to introduce me to her various copilots and … . cohorts and … companions and …”
The Master, five feet, nine inches of quixotic will incarnate, saunters around the console and flings up his hands in feigned surrender.
“Well, I’ve rather run out of terms for ‘mate’ beginning with c, so … what might you be again? Her illegitimate child, maybe? Not to put too indelicate a point on it, but you’re what, sixteen years old? Oh, anyroad. If she says you’re oop for the task of traveling with us, fine. I’m the Master. Basically, no one’s known the Doctor longer than me. Call me Koschei. Everyone finds it less abrasive these days.”
He strikes out a hand, and kisses the girl’s knuckles, debonair to a fault.
Icarus 