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trans_92009-04-18 04:00 pm
kindofscary.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92009-04-18 04:00 pm
Entry tags:
Prime Ministers just wanna have fun.
Now, it seems, the unpleasant aftermath of the Yeerk insurrection has finally died into obscurity. Right? Right?
Every Yeerk has been expelled from their respective hosts, the Sub-Visser was dead and their machine left in ruins. Right? Right?
Ahem. There's still one Yeerk to account for. Specifically, the Yeerk that had tried to get cozy in the Doctor's brain only to wind up aiding the crew to locate and eliminate the threat to Stacy. After the battle, the implanted and injured had been interned in the Med Bay, and this Yeerk was no different. It sits in a draw, to the rear of the lab, stewing in a small, handheld vat of a very necessary fluid. And it sits there for minutes, hours, days. Patiently, mostly out of terror, waiting.
And now everyone seems to have forgotten, or at least moved on to the next mission. Now is when the Master goes and fishes his chum out of his obscurity. He takes the vat from its draw and scurries off to the 'blind spot' that his ill-fated accomplice Scorpius had found.
"Howzit, old chum?" He establishes a telepathic field. For a Time Lord of his age and disposition, it comes naturally.
Enough games. Release me.
"Ah-ah-ah, you know what I want." the Master waggles a finger, his eyebrows raised.
Of course. The schematics in exchange for my freedom.
"And? Don't forget--"
No interference. We are quite aware of that term.
"Excellent, let's take a walk. I do love a good stroll around the duck pond on a Sunday." The Master dunks the Yeerk back into the vat and skips off into the city, cheerily whistling one of Cyndi Lauper's more notorious hits.
Every Yeerk has been expelled from their respective hosts, the Sub-Visser was dead and their machine left in ruins. Right? Right?
Ahem. There's still one Yeerk to account for. Specifically, the Yeerk that had tried to get cozy in the Doctor's brain only to wind up aiding the crew to locate and eliminate the threat to Stacy. After the battle, the implanted and injured had been interned in the Med Bay, and this Yeerk was no different. It sits in a draw, to the rear of the lab, stewing in a small, handheld vat of a very necessary fluid. And it sits there for minutes, hours, days. Patiently, mostly out of terror, waiting.
And now everyone seems to have forgotten, or at least moved on to the next mission. Now is when the Master goes and fishes his chum out of his obscurity. He takes the vat from its draw and scurries off to the 'blind spot' that his ill-fated accomplice Scorpius had found.
"Howzit, old chum?" He establishes a telepathic field. For a Time Lord of his age and disposition, it comes naturally.
Enough games. Release me.
"Ah-ah-ah, you know what I want." the Master waggles a finger, his eyebrows raised.
Of course. The schematics in exchange for my freedom.
"And? Don't forget--"
No interference. We are quite aware of that term.
"Excellent, let's take a walk. I do love a good stroll around the duck pond on a Sunday." The Master dunks the Yeerk back into the vat and skips off into the city, cheerily whistling one of Cyndi Lauper's more notorious hits.