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Time was such an incomprehensible thing sometimes, it didn't follow logic or order. He knew something was off with everything, he could feel it the moment it hit to him but he couldn't quite place it. his mind was far too muddled to grasp what was happening. Because this wasn't how things were meant to be. He remembered being on Earth, the time lock was broken and Rassilon had descended upon them. And everything that followed that, every little detail. And then he was here, on Gallifrey, during the war once more. Daleks, destruction, death. You name it, they had it. And then everything just stopped.
Like that, Gallifrey went silent and the war was over. The time lock was gone. It wasn't right, it wasn't possible. It had ...moved?
All he knew was that it had to of been the Doctor.
The Master didn't feel much elation to know the Time Lords were going to live. He wanted Gallifrey to fall, he wanted chaos to descend and their lives to crash and burn. They earned their fates and they should of suffered it. But fairness wasn't something that existed in the universe.
It was hard to fly under the radar after the fuss with Rassilon but he had escaped before the high council could find him and hidden himself among the TARDIS junkyard, making the best of a bad situation. The Master could hardly venture into the city without being known but he could hide here, he'd lived in a wasteland before and he could do it again. He had worked through what remained of the war trying to build himself a way off this planet from the junk available. He just needed a one way trip to Earth. A way to find the Doctor and make sense of what was happening.
And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to stop the drumming. They didn't need him any more, surely he'd suffered enough. If anyone deserved saving, it was him. Not these monsters.
The Doctor owed him that much.
Eventually, the rather badly made platform of a console was capable of travel but the artron energy source was so damaged that he could only get to Earth and then that was it. If he got the wrong time or the wrong planet, he was stuck. And if the forcefield died, he was dead.
Taking a chance, he input the co-ordinates for 2009, Christmas day. The last time he'd been on Earth. And then, prayed to any Gods listening and pulled the lever.
The good news was that he didn't burn to death upon travel. The bad news was, he missed his mark by about two years and the landing had been far from subtle. He'd been looking to escape the crash site without being found, really.
All he had to do now was wait. The Doctor would come, he always came.
Like that, Gallifrey went silent and the war was over. The time lock was gone. It wasn't right, it wasn't possible. It had ...moved?
All he knew was that it had to of been the Doctor.
The Master didn't feel much elation to know the Time Lords were going to live. He wanted Gallifrey to fall, he wanted chaos to descend and their lives to crash and burn. They earned their fates and they should of suffered it. But fairness wasn't something that existed in the universe.
It was hard to fly under the radar after the fuss with Rassilon but he had escaped before the high council could find him and hidden himself among the TARDIS junkyard, making the best of a bad situation. The Master could hardly venture into the city without being known but he could hide here, he'd lived in a wasteland before and he could do it again. He had worked through what remained of the war trying to build himself a way off this planet from the junk available. He just needed a one way trip to Earth. A way to find the Doctor and make sense of what was happening.
And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to stop the drumming. They didn't need him any more, surely he'd suffered enough. If anyone deserved saving, it was him. Not these monsters.
The Doctor owed him that much.
Eventually, the rather badly made platform of a console was capable of travel but the artron energy source was so damaged that he could only get to Earth and then that was it. If he got the wrong time or the wrong planet, he was stuck. And if the forcefield died, he was dead.
Taking a chance, he input the co-ordinates for 2009, Christmas day. The last time he'd been on Earth. And then, prayed to any Gods listening and pulled the lever.
The good news was that he didn't burn to death upon travel. The bad news was, he missed his mark by about two years and the landing had been far from subtle. He'd been looking to escape the crash site without being found, really.
All he had to do now was wait. The Doctor would come, he always came.