(no subject)
COMM: muse_shuffle - And I'm not gonna lie just to spare you feelings / Cuz watching you suffer feels much better to me / I'm about to lay destruction on you
VERSE: realityshifted
WORD COUNT: 695
NOTE: Based on this scene with theguv.
He doesn't hear a heartbeat.
The thing he's speaking with isn't alive. He considers it a thing because, technically, it is a corpse. It is the corpse of Gene Hunt, whom he killed scant days earlier. (And it was quite deserved, or so the Master believed; Mr. Hunt should have known when to hold his tongue.) What is standing in front of him is, by popular culture, called a zombie, and it offends every sense of his. The thing smells like death and rot, of decomposition, of the grave. It should be dead.
Instead, it stands in front of him, arguing. Or, well, not precisely arguing, but making attempts at antagonism. "You lost my business the moment you kidnapped me, you piece of shit," it snarls.
The Master grins politely, but it is strained with frustration and annoyance. That deal was vital, and to have it ended was not part of his agenda. It wouldn't benefit him in any way. Slowly, the Master moved into the creature's space. "Then your team is no longer safe, Mr. Hunt." He's tense, but he doesn't let it show. He refuses to let himself act out of anger again. "How long do you think it'd be before I found where every one of them lived?"
He can see rage flare up in otherwise dead eyes, and even his preternatural reaction speed can save him from being hit in the face. His nose busts, and he yowls in pain, bares his fangs in response. The second reaction, the thought that his blood is black, is one he shoves out of his head quickly.
"Then you had better think about what you're doing before you back out on our deal, Mr. Hunt!" the Master allows himself to yell as he rubs his sleeve along his nose, smearing the blood across his face. His eyes have gone almost black, and he fixates his stare on the thing that was once Gene Hunt. "Turn your back on it and you will find every single person who works for you dead!"
That's a promise he intends to keep. He knows precisely how he'll go about it, killing off Gene's department one by one, leaving mangled and mutilated corpses tied or bound to various places in CID. Eventually, Gene would be the only one left. Then, and only then, he would stay his hand.
But the zombie rages, he rebels against the threat and draws himself up into a posture of dominance and strength. "You touch anyone on my team and you'll be lucky to be able to move, you right bastard," it seethes. For being undead, the Master briefly observes, it has amazing control.
"You either work for me, or I kill them and anyone else in my way!" the Master growls his words, so that even with his raised voice there is a rumbling undercurrent, a vocal display of dominance to match Hunt's physical one.
"You wouldn't dare!"
The Master smirks maliciously. "Don't try me, Mr. Hunt. You know that I would, and with little hesitation," he pauses, allows Gene time to let the words sink into his thick skull. Though he doubts that the brain would be able to properly process the concept, seeing as it was little more than dead, useless meat inside a bone case. "Each and every death would be on your head, as you could have prevented it."
He knows precisely the points to hit to manipulate him. He hasn't spent the past year being idle, learning nothing. There is always one way to get Gene Hunt to cooperate, and it is to threaten the few things he cares about. It is to threaten the things he thinks of as his, the things he has to protect. The Master has no problems threatening them.
Gene briefly closes his eyes and furrows his brow. If he were a weaker man, he might have cast his gaze elsewhere, abandoned his display of dominance. But he only allows that one bit through, as far as the Master can tell, before he squares his gaze back on him. "I'm not betraying my city to you."
The Master steps forward to cut the space between them, and he speaks in a low tone. "You'd betray nothing."
VERSE: realityshifted
WORD COUNT: 695
NOTE: Based on this scene with theguv.
He doesn't hear a heartbeat.
The thing he's speaking with isn't alive. He considers it a thing because, technically, it is a corpse. It is the corpse of Gene Hunt, whom he killed scant days earlier. (And it was quite deserved, or so the Master believed; Mr. Hunt should have known when to hold his tongue.) What is standing in front of him is, by popular culture, called a zombie, and it offends every sense of his. The thing smells like death and rot, of decomposition, of the grave. It should be dead.
Instead, it stands in front of him, arguing. Or, well, not precisely arguing, but making attempts at antagonism. "You lost my business the moment you kidnapped me, you piece of shit," it snarls.
The Master grins politely, but it is strained with frustration and annoyance. That deal was vital, and to have it ended was not part of his agenda. It wouldn't benefit him in any way. Slowly, the Master moved into the creature's space. "Then your team is no longer safe, Mr. Hunt." He's tense, but he doesn't let it show. He refuses to let himself act out of anger again. "How long do you think it'd be before I found where every one of them lived?"
He can see rage flare up in otherwise dead eyes, and even his preternatural reaction speed can save him from being hit in the face. His nose busts, and he yowls in pain, bares his fangs in response. The second reaction, the thought that his blood is black, is one he shoves out of his head quickly.
"Then you had better think about what you're doing before you back out on our deal, Mr. Hunt!" the Master allows himself to yell as he rubs his sleeve along his nose, smearing the blood across his face. His eyes have gone almost black, and he fixates his stare on the thing that was once Gene Hunt. "Turn your back on it and you will find every single person who works for you dead!"
That's a promise he intends to keep. He knows precisely how he'll go about it, killing off Gene's department one by one, leaving mangled and mutilated corpses tied or bound to various places in CID. Eventually, Gene would be the only one left. Then, and only then, he would stay his hand.
But the zombie rages, he rebels against the threat and draws himself up into a posture of dominance and strength. "You touch anyone on my team and you'll be lucky to be able to move, you right bastard," it seethes. For being undead, the Master briefly observes, it has amazing control.
"You either work for me, or I kill them and anyone else in my way!" the Master growls his words, so that even with his raised voice there is a rumbling undercurrent, a vocal display of dominance to match Hunt's physical one.
"You wouldn't dare!"
The Master smirks maliciously. "Don't try me, Mr. Hunt. You know that I would, and with little hesitation," he pauses, allows Gene time to let the words sink into his thick skull. Though he doubts that the brain would be able to properly process the concept, seeing as it was little more than dead, useless meat inside a bone case. "Each and every death would be on your head, as you could have prevented it."
He knows precisely the points to hit to manipulate him. He hasn't spent the past year being idle, learning nothing. There is always one way to get Gene Hunt to cooperate, and it is to threaten the few things he cares about. It is to threaten the things he thinks of as his, the things he has to protect. The Master has no problems threatening them.
Gene briefly closes his eyes and furrows his brow. If he were a weaker man, he might have cast his gaze elsewhere, abandoned his display of dominance. But he only allows that one bit through, as far as the Master can tell, before he squares his gaze back on him. "I'm not betraying my city to you."
The Master steps forward to cut the space between them, and he speaks in a low tone. "You'd betray nothing."