Who: The Tenth Doctor and open What: Arriving, yelling, general crazy fun When: Late evening, May 17th Where: Near the outskirts of the city Warnings: TBA He stood at the heart of it all. His eyes fixed against the man before him, those insane eyes staring back, so determined, so fervently against his own, "You coward. You wouldn't dare." Urging, urging, "They're the ones who are doing this!" But he knew. The Master, the Master, his old playmate, his friend, the only left supposedly of his kind knew this wasn't just about that. It wasn't about that. It never would be with the Doctor, the Doctor a man who never would. The Master, staring back, knowing, dawning against his face: the last besides himself, the last Time Lord....only he wasn't the last. Not anymore. He wasn't the only other one. Laying in wait, their brethren, their family, their people and race standing behind him in shining horrific glory waiting for the Doctor, the good, the kind, the never weapon carrying Doctor to shoot...
Shoot a twisted mixture of his other half, rival, friend.
His hand shook. His eyes steeled, determined, ready but just fixed so silent against the roaring stillness at the Master's gaze with his own brown ones reflecting nothing but the fire and the desperation and determination only that of a Time Lord could really hold. All that fire in one simple gaze...
"GO AHEAD!"
He held that gun. His hand tightening at the grip of the trigger...unmoving...
.....And he couldn't.
It was then. Just like that. Before his mind could quickfire to another solution; a single moment in time, a single flash, a single shift where one second there was the Master and himself and the glass spread all around like a shower of glittering carpet at his feet and in the next....
It was cold.
It was dark.
It was....
The Doctor, startled, looked around. His voice caught up against his throat, eyes confused and dazed and struck so completely by the sudden shift in scenery. Moments in his brilliant blazing mind wondering, grasping at straws of what had just happened. "Impossible," He whispered, confused and almost silently. "What--Impossible..."
Because it was impossible. This: This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be happening, this whole world, this sudden shift; the gun lowering and feeling so heavy with so much weight at his side. His hearts beating and drumming against his skull and in his chest, riveting at the Time Lord's rib cage. Breath coming in hot and liquid mixture of heat and anger and sudden desperation, and those last beating seconds he was certain he was going to die...Die saving the world. Die somehow, but not while shooting that Time Lord, that insane, maniacal, brilliant Time Lord he once knew as "friend" but defeating the others, their race--
"No. No, no. No, no, no, COME ON! REALLY!?" The voice split so uncharacteristically, so desperate against his throat to the sky dark and clouded. Gathered in all the rage and confusion and disappointment biting at the thin man's shaky form. The emotions driven from the tension of the moment seconds before and the very reality that he wasn't there at all to stop whatever had occurred, will occur, was occurring just seconds, just moments, just a brief blink in time before landing and being pulled to wherever he was. The end of time itself. The end of everything. Of reality.
He looked around, The Doctor, the once kind, once vibrant man, the world dark at his gaze, his eyes livid; face and body still sliced and cut from the shards of glass. Gaze holding a rage and a fire to them, almost burning with life and anger and that shaking determination he held so well...