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Entry tags:
- !plot: feeling sluggish?,
- allen gentry,
- brainiac 5,
- bumblebee,
- chaucer,
- christofel,
- danny phantom,
- john-117,
- jono starsmore,
- kate bishop,
- kon-el,
- leela bricker,
- lyta alexander,
- mai,
- mr. wednesday,
- nathan petrelli,
- pat and toxin,
- penelope maddox,
- robin,
- sam winchester,
- samus aran,
- scorpius,
- shawn spencer,
- sir sparhawk,
- soundwave,
- speedy mia dearden,
- supergirl,
- the doctor,
- the master,
- tobias,
- west rosen,
- will vandom,
- xander,
- zuko
The thing you should know is that everyone is in really big trouble. Yeah. Even you.
Ax had escaped the Controllers on board. Brainy had not been so lucky. Neither had Sam and Tim. And who knew how many others on board had Yeerks wrapped around their brains, controlling their every movement, pretending that everything was normal until the time came to strike.
Who do you trust, podlings?
Who do you trust, podlings?
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"What are we guessing this kid has one of these in his ear, too?" He fishes back into his pocket with his free hand, finding the Judoon scanner.
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Slowly, slowly, the Time Lord comes back to himself. His hearts beat faster again; instead of every ten seconds, every seven, every five, laboriously picking up their accustomed speed and beat. Superganglion that have been wrenched free in a desperate attempt to maintain control carefully realign, rejoin, and reconnect the Automic brain to the brain at large. His internal temperature races back up to a cool, comfortable 15°C.
What he could, technically, achieve while awake with great concentration and a few hours is repaired in minutes as, for once, the Doctor's body works without the distraction of his consciousness prattling on. And so blearily, uneasily, the Doctor begins to wake up. Not enough to stir yet, but his mental presence has returned.
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"They're not native to our reality. Blind, but compensate with pedipalps," ho-hum, he rips those off so that if it gets loose it's pretty much lost. When he does so, he recoils, planting a finger from his free hand into his ear, "Ow. Apparently communicate through ultrasound. I'm not fluent, so let's try something else--"
Mind contact was always his strong suit, and he even had a physical channel. The thing thrashes in his hand momentarily, before dying down.
"... Of course! Oh you clever little thing, you!"
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This narration apologises for their current state of being boring.
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"Doctor, you're good at destroying things. Hurry and wake up."
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It has nothing to do with the fact that it was the Master who told him to wake up, who taunted him.
That's just a convenient coincidence.
Really.
No, really.
So when the Doctor gasps in an overly theatrical lung full of air and rolls onto his side, wide awake and staring right after the Master tells him to, it is, as previously stated, simply a coincidence, albeit a very poorly timed one on the Doctor's part, and nothing more.
Though that doesn't explain why he immediately glares at the Master with great indignation and squawks "Would you stop bringing that up?!"
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Oh, he does just love twisting that knife.
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To Bee he says, "He's the one ought be mature, you know, he's the old one. Make him be mature, I'm plenty mature."
Deciding he's not as steady on his feet as he'd like, he braces himself. With a hand on the Master's head.
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"He does have a point. I'd forgotten he was shot. Are we supposed to care? Also, might I point out that I have said slug in my hand and he's telling me he's quite willing to go back in there if you'll stop whining?"
Don't worry Bee. They'll get there-- eventually.
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"Shot?" The Doctor frowns. He ought to have remembered that. "Are you all right?"
Look, Bee, the Doctor's paying attention! Even when it means ignoring the Master!
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He stands up, Doctor's hand be damned! "I can have this one lead the way, but you'll need to keep an eye on sleeping beauty there."
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"You can stay behind if you like," the Doctor says to Bee, "No doubt that would be easier, not as damaging to whatever part of your systems have been... er... damaged."
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The Master points out the comatose lump that used to be West to Bumblebee, "I'd rather he didn't wake up and decide to come spring his little buddy here. Just-- carry him. You look like a strapping lad."
Seems all that time spent as Prime Minister/ruler of the world taught him a thing or two about authority. Time was when the Master was happy to skulk in the shadows, try on snazzy disguises, all that mumbo-jumbo. Guess he just doesn't have the attention span for that these days.
"Alright," he says to the slug, gesturing theatrically, "Lead the way."