theatrical_muse #187: Revenge
He laughed. In joy and irony, oh, he wasn't going to die this time, another time, cornered by a Dalek, trapped, but it could not kill him.
"Powerless! The great space dust bin, how does it feel?!"
KEEP BACK!
"What for? What're you gonna do to me?"
He paced around the Dalek, slowly, mockingly. He growled into its eyestalk, the blue light burning into his retinas, but he didn't care. He didn't care. He didn't care, because it was chained and beaten and dusty and indeed powerless to stop him from doing anything. He didn't care, because it was the last one. And he gloated. He made sure this thing, this lone little Dalek knew.
"Ten million ships on fire, the entire Dalek race, wiped out in one second."
YOU LIE!
"I watched it happen. I MADE it happen!"
YOU DE-STROYED US?
It felt good until then. He had, hadn't he? He'd killed them off--an entire race--without mercy. Two, even. The Dalek wasn't the only last of its race left. He turned his back. Bantered more, but dared not show his face. The mocking felt hollow. There was nobody else left for them, in the whole of the universe. The anger rose in him, the frustration, the guilt, the defeat. He let it fill him with each word until he twitched, snapped, yelled, finally reflected on words spoken.
Were they the same?
No. No, they were not at all. Not even when he said the word, ironic and feral grin on his face, not even when he threw the switch.
The Dalek screamed.
HAVE...PI-TY!
"Why should I? You never did!"
It was a grating sound, but satisfying to the core. He threw another switch, intensifying the pain, increasing the electric current running through that outer shell to the monster inside. Part of him wanted to laugh again. He was going to cause it as much pain as that little body could stand, and then he was going to kill it. And then it would be over. It would finally, finally be over.
And then he was pulled away. It was saved. By a stupid, rich madman who had no idea what he was doing or what he had in his possession.
He'd had another go at it later, after the killing, after they were the only ones left in the base, him and the boy, Rose and the Dalek, Van Statten and his assistant. It was doing what it was supposed to do for its whole existence--kill. And that had to stop. He ran as hard and as fast as his legs could take him, heaving the massive weapon up to take aim. And Rose would not move. Silly, stupid girl didn't know what she was doing, either.
"That thing killed hundreds of people."
"It's not the one pointing the gun at me."
"I've got to do this. I've got to end it. The Daleks destroyed my home, my people. I've got nothing left."
Nothing, nothing, nothing but that daft old blue box, and that one little remnant had to die. Had to die. Blow it to bits, then blow the bits to bits, leave no trace, and he would laugh, and he would smile, and he would be happy again, somewhat, because it'd be over, and they would have paid, at long last, for the devastation caused, for the people killed, the planets destroyed, the War, what could feel better than dealing such a blow?
Then why wasn't it acting like a normal Dalek? Why was Rose defending it? Why wasn't he firing, other casualties be damned?
"What about you, Doctor? What the hell are you changing into?"
He wasn't sure anymore. The gun dropped to his side. Something he swore he'd never carry again, never use again, never touch again.
She had to see, had to understand. Yet the words could not possibly hope to speak it in a comprehendible language.
"I couldn't...I wasn't...oh Rose, they're all dead."
WHY DO WE SUR-VIVE?
"...I don't know."
A question he could never know the answer to.
But he wanted it so badly. So very badly, to deal out pain, to hand out destruction, to seek revenge, of all things. Revenge for something he'd been forced to do himself. Revenge for killing friends, family, anyone, everyone. Sweet revenge he'd only gotten a small taste of, but would it even be enough? This, would this ever be enough to sate the craving?
I AM THE LAST OF THE DA-LEKS.
"You're not even that. Rose did more than regenerate you; you absorbed her DNA. You're mutating."
IN-TO WHAT?
"Something new. ...I'm sorry."
He was apologizing. For what? For everything. He didn't know anymore. But he felt pity. It didn't make much sense to him, but it was no longer the last of its own kind. The Daleks had already died, and it hadn't even been his fault. It wouldn't want to exist in this way.
It killed itself. He hadn't even known a Dalek could do that willingly. He never fired a shot, had no snappy last words, could not even blink as it turned itself to dust in a contained explosion.
And that was that.
No fuss. No mess. No climactic battle. No snark. Nothing at all from him, in the end. Nothing. Just the end. The end. It was stunning, the fact.
And no revenge. No torture and then merciful killing. It didn't seem fair, in an instant, and he was then thankful for Rose, in the next. Stopping him from reverting to something as awful as a Dalek.
But it didn't keep him from wishing to indulge in something that barbaric and cruel. He would always want it, and he knew, now, that he would never get the chance. But if he ever did, even if it killed him, even if it killed who he was, if he could ever bring himself to, he knew it would be the most fulfilling thing he would ever do.
Part of him was glad that the War had come to an end, and another part of him still yearned to hear that pained screaming again. He used to be better than vengeance. He wasn't quite sure what he was anymore.
"Powerless! The great space dust bin, how does it feel?!"
KEEP BACK!
"What for? What're you gonna do to me?"
He paced around the Dalek, slowly, mockingly. He growled into its eyestalk, the blue light burning into his retinas, but he didn't care. He didn't care. He didn't care, because it was chained and beaten and dusty and indeed powerless to stop him from doing anything. He didn't care, because it was the last one. And he gloated. He made sure this thing, this lone little Dalek knew.
"Ten million ships on fire, the entire Dalek race, wiped out in one second."
YOU LIE!
"I watched it happen. I MADE it happen!"
YOU DE-STROYED US?
It felt good until then. He had, hadn't he? He'd killed them off--an entire race--without mercy. Two, even. The Dalek wasn't the only last of its race left. He turned his back. Bantered more, but dared not show his face. The mocking felt hollow. There was nobody else left for them, in the whole of the universe. The anger rose in him, the frustration, the guilt, the defeat. He let it fill him with each word until he twitched, snapped, yelled, finally reflected on words spoken.
Were they the same?
No. No, they were not at all. Not even when he said the word, ironic and feral grin on his face, not even when he threw the switch.
The Dalek screamed.
HAVE...PI-TY!
"Why should I? You never did!"
It was a grating sound, but satisfying to the core. He threw another switch, intensifying the pain, increasing the electric current running through that outer shell to the monster inside. Part of him wanted to laugh again. He was going to cause it as much pain as that little body could stand, and then he was going to kill it. And then it would be over. It would finally, finally be over.
And then he was pulled away. It was saved. By a stupid, rich madman who had no idea what he was doing or what he had in his possession.
He'd had another go at it later, after the killing, after they were the only ones left in the base, him and the boy, Rose and the Dalek, Van Statten and his assistant. It was doing what it was supposed to do for its whole existence--kill. And that had to stop. He ran as hard and as fast as his legs could take him, heaving the massive weapon up to take aim. And Rose would not move. Silly, stupid girl didn't know what she was doing, either.
"That thing killed hundreds of people."
"It's not the one pointing the gun at me."
"I've got to do this. I've got to end it. The Daleks destroyed my home, my people. I've got nothing left."
Nothing, nothing, nothing but that daft old blue box, and that one little remnant had to die. Had to die. Blow it to bits, then blow the bits to bits, leave no trace, and he would laugh, and he would smile, and he would be happy again, somewhat, because it'd be over, and they would have paid, at long last, for the devastation caused, for the people killed, the planets destroyed, the War, what could feel better than dealing such a blow?
Then why wasn't it acting like a normal Dalek? Why was Rose defending it? Why wasn't he firing, other casualties be damned?
"What about you, Doctor? What the hell are you changing into?"
He wasn't sure anymore. The gun dropped to his side. Something he swore he'd never carry again, never use again, never touch again.
She had to see, had to understand. Yet the words could not possibly hope to speak it in a comprehendible language.
"I couldn't...I wasn't...oh Rose, they're all dead."
WHY DO WE SUR-VIVE?
"...I don't know."
A question he could never know the answer to.
But he wanted it so badly. So very badly, to deal out pain, to hand out destruction, to seek revenge, of all things. Revenge for something he'd been forced to do himself. Revenge for killing friends, family, anyone, everyone. Sweet revenge he'd only gotten a small taste of, but would it even be enough? This, would this ever be enough to sate the craving?
I AM THE LAST OF THE DA-LEKS.
"You're not even that. Rose did more than regenerate you; you absorbed her DNA. You're mutating."
IN-TO WHAT?
"Something new. ...I'm sorry."
He was apologizing. For what? For everything. He didn't know anymore. But he felt pity. It didn't make much sense to him, but it was no longer the last of its own kind. The Daleks had already died, and it hadn't even been his fault. It wouldn't want to exist in this way.
It killed itself. He hadn't even known a Dalek could do that willingly. He never fired a shot, had no snappy last words, could not even blink as it turned itself to dust in a contained explosion.
And that was that.
No fuss. No mess. No climactic battle. No snark. Nothing at all from him, in the end. Nothing. Just the end. The end. It was stunning, the fact.
And no revenge. No torture and then merciful killing. It didn't seem fair, in an instant, and he was then thankful for Rose, in the next. Stopping him from reverting to something as awful as a Dalek.
But it didn't keep him from wishing to indulge in something that barbaric and cruel. He would always want it, and he knew, now, that he would never get the chance. But if he ever did, even if it killed him, even if it killed who he was, if he could ever bring himself to, he knew it would be the most fulfilling thing he would ever do.
Part of him was glad that the War had come to an end, and another part of him still yearned to hear that pained screaming again. He used to be better than vengeance. He wasn't quite sure what he was anymore.