Part 13
Funny is Like This
The interior of the TARDIS was as close to silent as it ever was, only the various humming and clacking of the various instruments broke the quiet. Even so, when the Doctor pushed the door open, both he and Derpy cringed and drove their forehooves into their ears as if they were suddenly thrust right into the middle of one of DJ Pon3's raves. "What is that?" Derpy shouted.
"She's angry," the Doctor answered simply.
"I can see that," Derpy groused.
The Doctor pulled himself up to the console and dragged the monitor down to his level. "You don't understand. The TARDIS is more angry than I've ever seen her before. Seven hundred plus years and I've never seen her like this." He turned his attention to the console. "What is it, Old Girl? I can't help you if you won't tell me." He winced as another wave of rage flowed over him. "Now see here, you stop that right now! You're scaring Derpy! Remember Derpy? You like Derpy. Now simmer it down a bit so we can do something about it."
Both ponies sighed with relief as the psychic noise dialed down to a dull roar. "Now, what is it?" the Doctor asked again. The monitor flashed briefly as it filled with ancient Gallopfreyan writing. In the few seconds it took the Doctor to read it, his face registered a cold fury of its own.
"What is it, Doctor?" Derpy asked.
The Doctor turned to Derpy, his blue eyes burning. "She can hear her sister screaming."
Derpy cocked her head in confusion. "What does that mean?"
"Her sister, Derpy? TARDISes are alive! All of them, not just mine. It's something every school foal from Gallopfrey knows."
"Well, I'm not from Gallopfrey," Derpy huffed.
The Doctor slammed a hoof on the console. "But the Master is. Don't you see? He's knowingly mutilated his own TARDIS!"
"Why would he do that?"
"To build his enhancer/transceiver thing. Equestria in your time would be just barely at the level of technology required to create such a thing, but now? Six hundred years in the past? Unthinkable. And the Master's never been a player of the long game. He'd never have the patience to, say, 'influence' the rise of Equestrian technology until it suited his needs. No, it's much faster and easier to rip the guts out of a convenient TARDIS and use that instead--never mind the fact that doing so leaves the poor thing in utter agony."
The Doctor began pounding out commands on the TARDIS control console. "Where are we going?" Derpy asked. "Does the TARDIS know where the Master is?"
The Doctor shook his head. "No. The screams are too far, too muffled." His face darkened dangerously. "We're going to pay a little visit to one of the 'normal' ponies the guards arrested this afternoon."
~DrW~
The Master was the first to arrive, Dawn Riser in tow. After all, he was the mastermind here, and impressions were so very important. He couldn't help but chuckle. This was supposed to be a secret, obscure, out of the way little hidey-hole for the conspirators to gather, yet the large round conference table was still made of hoof carved mahogany, expensive tapestries hung from the walls, and the room alone was larger than most homes in, say, Manehattan. Damned Equestrian nobles.
He leaned back in his chair, tapping out the beat of the drums with his hoof upon the extravagant table, and took in all the sights as his, ah, sponsors--most of whom he didn't even need to hypnotize which surprised him greatly--began shuffling in the room. "Ah, Blueblood," he greeted cordially. "How're the wife and kids?" The Master barely registered the bored sounding reply as his eyes roved around the room at the assembled unicorns. Nobles of Canterlot all, and all of them supporting his 'cause' because they felt he could give them a greater portion of power to squabble over. Blood sucking little parasites, the lot of them.
Still he smiled jovially at them. It was all part of the game, after all.
Dawn Riser stood behind him, viewing the proceedings stoically. Her sky blue coat and silver hair practically shone in the slightly overdone lighting, as did her starburst cutie mark. The Master wondered briefly what she'd think--if he didn't have her under his control that is--if she were to learn that the only real contribution her bloodline would bring to the dawning of the Magical Age of Equestria was that of a loudmouthed showpony with more power than skill inadvertently teaching a lesson in true humility to the real star of that particular show.
A few more moments, and the group had assembled. The Master stopped his tapping and stood up on his hind legs, leaning on the table for support. The smile he wore was genuine now. This was going to be fun.
~DrW~
The Doctor strode purposefully down the dungeon corridors, his coat flaring rather importantly behind him. He didn't share any words with any guards that tried to stop them, just flashed his psychic paper in their faces and was gone before they could finish a stumbled apology. Derpy simply shot the confused guards apologetic looks as she followed.
Finally, the Doctor was in a cell with one of the captured ponies. The captured pegasus glared at the intruder. "What do you want?"
The Doctor returned the glare with a cool, almost emotionless look of his own. "Fast Track, if I'm not mistaken? A member of an offshoot branch of the Royal Family but far enough removed to not have any official titles?"
Fast Track snorted. "And what's it to you?"
"You are going to tell me everything you know about this whole debacle."
The pegasus laughed. "If I haven't talked to the guards, what makes you think I'll talk to you?"
The Doctor grabbed either side of Fast Track's face with his forehooves and brought the latter's face mere centimeters away from his own. "Make no mistake, friend. You don't have to say anything. I'm going to give you one last chance to give me the information willingly, before I just... take a peek myself."
Fast Track stubbornly clamped his mouth shut and continued to glare. The Doctor sighed. "Fine then. Have it your way." His face hardened as he locked eyes the pony in his hooves. "Contact."
~DrW~
"It's so nice to have the lot of you here, you backstabbing lot of traitorous filth," the Master began. He smirked inwardly as the assembled nobles visibly buried their resentment at the title and tried to laugh it off.
"Oh, yes, very funny," Blueblood XIV said with a strained chuckle. "But if you'd be so kind as to..."
"I wasn't joking," the Master clarified. "Did it seem like I was joking? Riser, did I look like I was joking to you?"
"No, sir."
"See, joking is like this." The Master smiled a huge fake sunny smile. "Right now, I'm like this." He then screwed his face into an equally comical scowl.
The Master sneered at the assembled group, who were now watching him with narrowed eyes of their own. "See, that's just it. That's exactly what you are. You all betrayed your ever so beloved sovereign--who I might remind you all raises the sun every morning and never holds that over your collective heads--because I brought the promise of power. I mean, it's not like you don't have power. You're the nobles. The elite. The creme de la creme and all that. But along I come and you all just... join the herd. So I think to myself. I think, 'if this lot is willing to betray the kind and graceful Princess and Goddess of the land, what use do I have for them?' Pretty astute question if I do say so myself."
Blueblood growled as he stood up, his horn glowing bright. The others followed suit. "And just what is it you think to do with we 'traitorous filth,' eh? We are the ones funding your campaign."
"Oh, sit down before you hurt yourselves. Dawn here can take the lot of you anyway. Here's a question for you, did you know there's only a few degrees of separation between an invisibility spell and a disguise spell?" With that, the Master clicked a hoof on the table, and the room was suddenly filled with bursts of green fire. Fire which soon coalesced into...
"Changelings!" one of the nobles gasped.
The Master was smiling now. The show was getting good. "Very good. Changelings. Now, I have two other questions for you that you might find interesting. First question: before their queens discovered the joys of slave labor and the like, how do you suppose changelings traditionally prevented that awkward moment where the real deal comes home while the changeling is there? Second question, related to the first: if their diet consists of something as incorporeal as 'love,' why d'you suppose they've developed those lovely flesh rending fangs? I'll leave the lot of you to discuss the matter."
As the Master got up to leave with Dawn Riser in tow, Blueblood stared in horror. "You... You're insane!"
The Master's smile was wide and genuine. "Yes. Yes I am. Thanks for noticing." That was the last he said before closing the door behind him.
As the sound of ponies screaming mingled with other, even less savory, sounds from the other side of the door, the Master casually popped the kinks out of his neck. "Be sure their 'replacements' get home before their families and friends have a chance to grow suspicious, will you, Dawn? And be sure to bring in the cleaning crew once they're done in there. I'm expecting the Doctor at any time now and I'd like the place to be clean."
"Yes, sir," Dawn Riser responded, deadpan.
The Master stood at the door, listening in on the gruesome sounds for several more minutes, then checked his watch when they showed no sign of abating, then cracked the door open to check in on the progress. He winced and quickly slammed the door shut. "Also, be sure to let the cleaners know I've approved overtime."