The Empress's New Clothes

Chapter 7 - Victorious

"I am the Master victorious!" he called into the distance, but nobody would hear him. His eyes stung from the smoke and he noticed he was still holding Ruliss's sword. He was about to just desert it on the ground, but heard a cry from one of the soldiers. He approached him, seeing him tear off his helmet to reveal a face burnt to the bone.

"Please, please, don't hurt me. I have a brother, Ruliss. He looks up to me. It's my fault he's even in the army. Just let me go and I won't tell you what you did".

"I don't trust you. And I never will", Koschei said looking at the sword in his hand. "Give this back to Ruliss for me, will you?" Without a moments thought, he plunged the sword into the soldier's chest and walked towards the camp. The drums beat like bullets firing in his mind, echoing and making him flinch at every beat. He held his hands to his head as they grew in volume, then noticed his hands were seeped in scarlet blood.
"Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red". He threw it aside, so it spilt onto the sand of the desert and evaporated under the blazing sun. Dashing towards the camp he saw a small pool of petrol spilling from the Dalek machinery and, taking a brittle, old branch, set a torch alight. It blazed like wildfire in his eyes, casting yellow-ish shadows among the doorway to the camp.
Cautiously he wandered in, heading further and further down into it. The walls were strung with cables eaten away by rust and there was a stagment smell of burning cinders. In the distance he cold hear machinery clanging. 

"Impossible", he thought. "It was only a small camp, there couldn't possibly be anythi-". Time Lord technology. Bigger on the inside. If the Daleks had been able to work out this technology, then, why, there could be a whole barrack hidden in here. Just a few miles from the Citadel itself, the perfect hiding place. He could see a light just at the end of the tunnel. Carefully he peeked around the doorway and his ears rung with the sound of metal being forged. A factory? Several Daleks were hurrying around the production line, watching molded pieces of Dalekanium shift down. 

"No..." he said to himself, slightly too loudly, for a Dalek perked up and spun around in curiosity. The Master dared not move a muscle, a shot from them would mean instant regeneration and, let's face it, he wasn't quite ready to get rid of this face. 

"Potential intruder spotted", it said in monotone. "Request assistance in dealing with it". No weapons, damn. Maybe the whole sword thing was a bit over-dramatic in the circumstance. "Guess the only thing to do is run", he thought, watching the Dalek like a hawk. Several others joined his side and cast their beady eyestalks on the doorway that he was just behind. "Scanning", they exclaimed at once. "Two hearts. It is a Time Lord. It is a Time Lord!" They then collapsed into a fit of fear and excitement at finally being able to capture something. These were obviously the ones that weren't accepted into the army. the Master ran back up the tunnel, as fast as his legs could carry him, and heard the rumbling of the Daleks following him. They may have been non-military, but they were fast and soon caught him in a circle of a firing squad. 

"No escape, eh?" he called out to them and it was true. He was surrounded, his only hope being that those weapons they carried were useless. But with them being this close to the Citadel, that was probably wrong. 

"You will surrender to the Dalek forces in the name of Davros, the Creator of the Daleks, Dark Lord of Skaro". 

"No". 

"You will".

"No, I won't", the Master said flippantly, going close into the Dalek eyestalk. "I'd rather die".

"Confirm. Prepare to die". Usually Daleks had the information about their 'enemy' programmed into the when they joined the army. But these ones, well, they probably didn't know anything about Time Lords at all, apart from their two hearts. That was the Master's way out. Even if it meant losing his favourite face. Their weapons fired up and, before the Master could refuse anything, they fired. One clear blue shot in his abdomen that sent him collapsing to the ground. 

"Death sentence complete. Return to work", one declared and they filed back into the camp.