[OOC] Profile
Once upon a time, there was a planet called Gallifrey, and a race of people called Time Lords. One of them -- brilliant and charming, but sadistic and egotistical -- was known as the Master. The Master had a friend, once, and then that friend became an enemy, and he was known as the Doctor. And then Gallifrey died. The Master survived, but only by becoming human and hiding at the end of the world. And the Doctor, the only other one to survive, found him and brought him back to himself. The Master took off in the Doctor's TARDIS and hatched a new plan to rule the world. And for one glorious year, he did; Earth was under his control, the universe soon to follow suit, and the Doctor a creature in a cage under his rule.
Then things went wrong. Martha Jones travelled the world and told a story, and that story reverses the Master's beautiful destruction, and left his year only a memory and one only left to a few. That would have been bad enough but adding insult to injury, he found himself imprisioned on the TARDIS. Angry and spiteful, the Master turned his plans towards driving the Doctor mad. And he succeeded, far better than he'd ever expected to. The Doctor snapped. And when the Doctor snapped, he had a plan of his own -- a plan to make the Master better, to rid him of the drums and the instinct to rule and control and destroy. Of course, the Doctor's plan included the Master becoming human again, and that's where the trouble began.
The Master fought, and when fighting didn't work, he threatened and pleaded and begged. He couldn't stand the idea of being human again, weak and powerless. So when the Doctor finally managed to bring the Chameleon Arch down on him, it was against the Master's will, and he fought the change every step of the way.
And William was born. But William was wrong.
The drums were still there, every bit as loud and as painful and as driving as they had been with the Master, but now there was more. There was a whisper in the back of his mind, a silken voice that told him things were wrong, that he was better and more important than anyone could ever understand; a voice that told him, sometimes, about what he should be, but he could never remember right what it said. There were violent rages that looked like a different person than he was at any other time. There were days, sometimes weeks on end of stillness and silence, not moving and not responding to anything.
Then there were the days where things were clear, when he was something close to sane. And sometimes those days were the worst, knowing full well that it wouldn't last much more than a day, completely aware of just how bad things were any other day.
William Masters spends his life in a mental hospital with no hope of release soon, or even ever, and no idea why he's there, or any memories in fact, beyond a vague feeling that he knows Doctor John Smith far better and far longer than they tell him he has. And some days are better and some days are worse, but healing never really happens.
Then things went wrong. Martha Jones travelled the world and told a story, and that story reverses the Master's beautiful destruction, and left his year only a memory and one only left to a few. That would have been bad enough but adding insult to injury, he found himself imprisioned on the TARDIS. Angry and spiteful, the Master turned his plans towards driving the Doctor mad. And he succeeded, far better than he'd ever expected to. The Doctor snapped. And when the Doctor snapped, he had a plan of his own -- a plan to make the Master better, to rid him of the drums and the instinct to rule and control and destroy. Of course, the Doctor's plan included the Master becoming human again, and that's where the trouble began.
The Master fought, and when fighting didn't work, he threatened and pleaded and begged. He couldn't stand the idea of being human again, weak and powerless. So when the Doctor finally managed to bring the Chameleon Arch down on him, it was against the Master's will, and he fought the change every step of the way.
And William was born. But William was wrong.
The drums were still there, every bit as loud and as painful and as driving as they had been with the Master, but now there was more. There was a whisper in the back of his mind, a silken voice that told him things were wrong, that he was better and more important than anyone could ever understand; a voice that told him, sometimes, about what he should be, but he could never remember right what it said. There were violent rages that looked like a different person than he was at any other time. There were days, sometimes weeks on end of stillness and silence, not moving and not responding to anything.
Then there were the days where things were clear, when he was something close to sane. And sometimes those days were the worst, knowing full well that it wouldn't last much more than a day, completely aware of just how bad things were any other day.
William Masters spends his life in a mental hospital with no hope of release soon, or even ever, and no idea why he's there, or any memories in fact, beyond a vague feeling that he knows Doctor John Smith far better and far longer than they tell him he has. And some days are better and some days are worse, but healing never really happens.