ames hargreaves ∞ the master (usemyname) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2012-04-21 12:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | ames hargreaves |
WHO. Ames Hargreaves & a special guest.
WHAT. Ames takes an unexpected trip.
WHERE. Royal Albert Hall.
WHEN. The not-so-distant future. Or is it?
WARNINGS. Wibbly wobbly timey wimey space insanity.
When Ames mused upon the future, he anticipated a great victory for The Resistance. They were ruthless, undermining, they had a chance to create an empire out of an ant hill, and they always did their best to achieve precisely that. All the world now knew of their existence as reincarnates, homes were finding themselves destroyed from the inside out. Chaos, pure untouched chaos, throughout this street and that. And it was all thanks to them, wasn't it? Of course it was. Who else could devise such brilliance with so small an act? Apart from him, of course. The answer was clear. No one. In this world, they held the key, the upper hand, the winning deck. They were the kings and queens of destruction and soon all the universe would know of their place above the rest.
Then why, as he stepped out from the inside of his TARDIS, did the world look so disgustingly calm? He was unsure of the year, not interested in finding out through inhaling or licking some telltale object. Unlike some, Ames did so enjoy the element of surprise. Though, he did know this area well. London. He could remember the last time he'd stepped upon these streets, but he didn't particularly care to. Last time he was here, he was her. He'd regenerated twice since then, but at the core of him, he knew she was still there, buried beneath him like she still had a right to be there. His lips curled into disgust. The shock of so much silence broke his pattern of thought. Ames glanced this way, that way, but the only sound appeared to be the wind. No one frequented the streets. No one cheered in the name of The Resistance.
Someone had brought him here for a reason, the question was: for what purpose?
As if on cue, the far-off sound of a violin offered up its attention to the Time Lord's ears. The Royal Albert Hall greeted him in the distance, and he knew at once this was where he was meant to go. Some soul in this future possessed the capability, the utmost cleverness, of bringing his TARDIS to their doorstep. He could only be so kind as to oblige their wishes. His fingers brushed over his shirt, and he started toward what was once one of London's finest tourist attractions. Amelia often dreamed of performing there; through song, she could get there some day. Here she was now, moving to its front door as someone she never anticipated she would become. How cruel fate was.
Ames pulled open the doors, the music growing louder all around him. The sound of the violin appeared to be elevated, placed on a higher frequency to gather the attention of anyone nearby. How delightfully intelligent this person must have been. He could not wait to pick their brain for every ounce of information they had to offer him. Moving past the entrance and hallways, he stepped inside of the hall itself. Johann Sebastian Bach's Partita Number One greeted him as an old friend might. The stage was perfectly devoid of all things, except for one. One man sat in a single oak chair, his bow moving across the violin with the ease of a professional. His dark hair was styled and he wore a suit so clean it hardly seemed appropriate for such a place. Ames stepped into the light illuminating from the stage, hands in his pockets, as he glanced up at the stranger. His eyes were narrowed, trying to find an ounce of familiarity, but he did not need to find it. For as the Partita came to its final notes, Ames knew precisely who it was that had summoned him to this hall.
"You're late," the man remarked calmly, his eyes not yet opening to reveal their colour. Ames' eyebrows raised, his face no longer curious, but amused. He rocked back once on his heels, before giving a tut with his tongue.
"Just," he reached out to tap a quick beat of four upon the empty stage. "I'm afraid that's bound to happen when my TARDIS' console is utilized from underneath me. My apologies," his hand moved back into his pocket, and the stranger finally looked upon Ames' face. His face was gaunt, almost reptilian in structure. Appealing, but not demandingly so. His eyes exhibited no emotion, but a quiet, underlying madness being contained by something akin to class. He was almost impressed.
"Still apologizing, are we?" He stood up, he was tall and lean, but not quite as tall as Ames was. On the stage, he was given the appearance of a king, and perhaps, this time he was. "Don't worry," his voice dropped down to an octave that struck a chord in Ames. "We'll soon see to that." The Time Lord frowned in a contemplative manner and started to walk slowly around the base of this other man's apparent world.
"Will we? How kind of you. Almost too kind. You know, I may actually be insulted."
The man snorted, the smile on his face looking as unnatural as it was forced. "Oh, but we both know that's not quite right, is it?" He placed the violin on the seat of his chair and started toward the edge of the stage. His hands were folded behind his back as he looked down at Ames, very clearly satisfied with where he was positioned.
"So, is this all I'm here for, then?" Ames pivoted on his heels, starting back to where he was initially standing. "To bicker? Play a little bit of cat and mouse? Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of the stuff, but come on. Bringing me to such an interesting future all because you were lonely?"
The man began to flap one of his hands to indicate Ames was talking too much and topped it off with a mock yawn. "God, I'd almost forgotten how American you were. You know if anyone should be insulted..." He pointed a finger to himself, mouthing the words 'it should be me.'
"Says the Irishman in the middle of London. Uh huh. You still haven't answered my question. I don't think that's very fair, do you?"
"Well, if all you wanted was one little answer," the man crouched down, lowering his face directly in front of Ames'. "Perhaps I shouldn't have invited you to my little tea party to begin with." His smile reached his ears, calculating and manic. He stood upright, suddenly springing backwards. Both his arms were held outright, a silent introduction to the world around him. "Welcome to London! It's the year two thousand and twenty. Yes, that's right, Mister Hargreaves. The Mayans were wrong." Ames took a step back to witness the display the man had very clearly been waiting patiently to perform.
"You see, I've brought you from the year twenty twelve, where all the world has only just," he held up one finger, "just found out about reincarnates. Oh, what a time that was. So fresh, so ripe. Brother turning against brother, mothers and fathers disowning their daughters, husbands, wives divorced. The possibilities?" He shook his head, rubbing his hands together and sniffing briefly. "Endless. Completely endless. Now, question. What happens when you provoke a mouse long enough? Mm?"
Ames folded his arms, grinning at the man's query. "It becomes brave."
"It. becomes. brave. Good, yes, that's very good, Mister Hargreaves. And when one mouse becomes brave, the others —"
"Follow suit."
"Don't they just? Now, you see. The Reincarnates become the targets, but they're made of stronger stuff, aren't they? Those little cockroaches have more up their sleeves than just submission. And when you mess with one, soon you'll want to mess with all of them, and ..." His shoulders slumped and he waved his hand, dismissing the topic. "So on and so forth."
"And this future? That's because of what we did in my time? What's happened to them?"
The man cringed, as if this were a sore topic, but soon he began to laugh. "What's happened to them? Now — now why would I tell you a thing like that? That's all you want to know? What's wrong with this place? Oh, no. No, no, no." He sighed, turning around to walk toward the chair, then darted back to the end of the stage in a fury. "NO! You were supposed to be ready — He said now, now would be the time. This was when — ha! Haha, oh, this is rich. It's me, isn't it? I'm the one who —"
The man's head snapped to the side and his voice came out in a hiss, "Of course it's you, you fool. Who else would it be?" Ames knew that voice better than he knew his own. Finally, it all made sense. He knew his true purpose for being here. He had been ensnared by the only person who knew how to trap him in this way.
"Now, this is a sight." Ames observed, watching the man closely. "To be able to look myself in the eye and see what sort of man I will become," he did not frown, but smile so widely only The Master could be held responsible for such a feat. "This was a trick The Doctor saved only for himself, but now, ...yes, now it's my turn, isn't it?"
Ames took a step back, The Master bounding about in his thoughts with a rage he didn't wish to face, but still moved backwards. The other man looked up suddenly, confused as to what new act was being performed. "As delightful as this all sounds, I'm afraid I really must be off." Were they all forgetting the pain his body went through with every transformation? The sheer agony of what they became? Each time, a new man came into place of the old one, and each time thus far, that luxury had been taken from him without his consent. Without her consent. It seemed not to matter now. No, it wouldn't. He knew their minds. Though, the mind of this man was still new. He had not yet experienced it.
Not yet.
The next thing Ames knew, his legs were stampeding in another direction, towards the sanctuary of his TARDIS. His fists were curled and he somehow felt betrayal. At this new version of himself? At The Master? No, at his own mind. His own biology that was somehow programmed with this innate selfishness. To yearn and to grow nostalgic, that was not in his nature. Even despite how hard The Master was fighting this change, Ames ran on until he spotted his TARDIS hardly a yard away. A gunshot fired, the bullet whizzing past his ear. Ames ducked, running faster until both his hearts were pounding in his chest. That was when The Master stepped in, slamming him down by his own knees. Ames let out a yelp of pain, the weakness finding itself more humiliating inside of him than anything else. I'm so very disappointed in you, Ames. "We both are," came the other man's voice.
He walked up to him then, twirling the gun round and round his finger as if it were a toy. Once again, he was at his mercy. That was already a testament to the man he was going to become if he was given his way. "Don't you see what we're trying to do here, Ames?" He suggested, arching his back forward in order to get a better look at his past, and his future. "We're Time Lords, you and I. The same Time Lord. This is our right. To meddle within our histories and our futures. To change the world. I'm trying to help you. This is a mercy. Together, we're changing the world. And soon? You and I will be the same, and you'll see. This is how it was always meant to be."
As blood plip-plopped through the tiny, grated holes of The Master's TARDIS, a new man lay in its puddle. Dark eyes watched them slip inside, blood red dropping down, down, down. The hole in his chest was long gone now, and the TARDIS, back in 2012. Still he lay, breathing shallow intakes of breath. The world was new again. For the fourth time, he was born again. Ames Hargreaves would not allow himself to make it to a fifth. Not yet. Not when there was so much left to do now.
In the end, this time it was his choice.
And he had every intention of seeing it through to the next beginning.