NLoT: Dangerous Minds (Tactician, Mentalist)

[The First Doctor]

The ballroom doors burst open. Men in red and silver uniforms, the uniforms of the Chancellary Guard, began to file in. Following in their wake came a man in the black and silver of the Chancellary Castellan, a thin man with a hawk nose, salt and pepper hair, and a black and grey goatee.

"My Lords," he said, then "My Ladies," with a nod towards the Phantom and the Psychologist. "By order of the Lord President and the High Council of Gallifrey, I must order you all to hold fast and submit to Law. You are charged with dereliction of your Duty to your Houses, your Families, and to the Protocols of History."

He smiled. "I am the Master, Chancellary Castellan. And you will obey me."

The Guard raised their staser rifles at the words.

[Xandavier]

Xandavier smiled with amusement. "The Master, you say? Chancellary Castellan? Your humor is both crude and in poor taste, and you fail to be convincing."

The Master glared at him. "And who might you be?"

"Oh, him?" the Could've-Been King interjected, poisonous hate dripping from the words. "That's Lord Xandavier."

A smile of hatred from the Master. "One of the architects of the Deca plot. Excellent. I'll be looking forward to executing you again."

Xandavier lifted an eyebrow. "And the others?"

"Arrest. Solitary confinement until we determine who they are and what must be done with them." His expression was self-satisfied. "You may as well surrender. You cannot escape."

"You fail to account for three things, 'Master'," Xandavier replied.

"Really? Indulge me, traitor. What 'three things' have I failed to account for."

A smile. "One, I am Xandavier. I was old, and scheming, when you were Loomed."

The Master did not look impressed.

"Two, there is an active quiescence field in this room."

The Master still did not look impressed.

"Three, this room is occupied by the Mentalist, a man that can shield him from the effects of an active quiescence field, and a man that threatened to separate him from the Psychologist."

Xandavier lifted his hand. There was a loud ping as one of the links that bound the Mentalist to the Psychologist broke. "My Lord the Mentalist? These men will take my Lady the Psychologist away from you forever, if you do not act."

[The Mentalist]

As the ballroom doors swung open and the Chancellary Guard file in, The Mentalist tensed up. Those uniforms were far too familiar. Men in those uniforms had dragged him away from the Lord President Rassilon more than he liked to admit.

The Psychologist's first reaction wasn't admirable. She knew she was weak, so she hid behind her best defense, the burly red-head. She'd met a few men from the Chancellary Guard back home. Her experience hadn't been much better than her counterparts. She shied away, the event coming back to her. That dress was never worn again, that night longing to be forgotten. Her arms wrapped around his chest, holding him back. His hand was raised awkwardly in front of him, the cuffs binding their wrists.

The Master introduced himself and The Mentalist smirked. Rolling his eyes, he kept the playful smile. It was hard to understand- no. It was hard to believe that this was the truth. This puzzle piece didn't fit. The Master, Chancellary Castellan? This had to be a joke... If it wasn't... he was in trouble.

Lord Xandavier, the Could've Been King and The Master passed a few words between them. The Master explained what he planned to do with everyone else and it was The Mentalist's worst nightmare. Everyone, minus Xandavier would be subject to solitary confinement. He was not going through all that again. He'd destroy anyone who'd dare to try to put him back in something like that and he would not let them do that to The Psychologist.
A self satisfied expression was plastered all over the Castellan's face. "You may as well surrender. You cannot escape."
It was met with a quiet snarl and a whimper. Her hands crept further up him, nails digging right into his chest. He licked his incisors like a primal beast. His instincts were coming back, sneaking into his head, clawing into his consciousness. She'd tried so hard to block them all out.
"what are you waiting for? kill them...destroy them... "
His eyes went to the floor.

Then Xandavier took the upperhand, explaining how all the odds were in their favor. The three key facts were spilled out. Xandavier's brilliant mind and The Mentalist's blocked mind were weapons of mass destruction. The field would have no effect on the most violent of the souls gathered, simply because he had no psychic abilities.

Xandavier lifted his hand. There was a loud ping as one of the links that bound the Mentalist to the Psychologist broke. She felt his hand drop. Her nails tugged into him, face buried into his back. The schoolroom taunt of 'pathetic little Lily' kept swirling in her head. All she could secure this madman with was a pair of handcuffs and an assumption he'd do anything she said? Both had been rendered useless.
"My Lord the Mentalist? These men will take my Lady the Psychologist away from you forever, if you do not act." Xandavier pointed out.

The Mentalist's temper was close to boiling over, but it was clear what he had to do. He gently teased her nails from his chest, kissed the back of her hand and let go. She struggled with him, trying to dig her hands back in.
"NO! Not after everything I've tried with you!"
The Psychologist scratched into his chest, his hands grabbing her wrists. A stern warning was given.
"Stop it."
He threw her hands off. Turning around to face her, he grabbed her wrists.
"Don't be stupid. Do you have a better idea to get out of here?"
She fell quiet. he dropped her wrists. As The Mentalist went to speak, her hand came up and tore into his cheek. A red line appeared. His eyes shot open, grabbing her by the front of the dress. Now he was furious.
"I promised myself I would never hit you. Do not make me break that. You're being selfish. I'm not doing this for me. Its for you and Lord Xandavier. Now go with him and get the hell out."
It was more of a warning than an order. He dropped her, his hand going to the back of her head. He planted a kiss on her forehead and let her go.

The Psychologist kept quiet and tried not to show her crazed mess of emotions. She wandered over to Xandavier and muttered quietly,
"Please come with me..."
She waited by his side, looking over to the Castellan 'Master'. Thinking again, she went into her little bag and grabbed something. Throwing it at The Mentalist's head, he easily caught it. She didn't say a word to him. He eyed it and smiled, wide eyed.
She had always kept his favorite knife away from him. It was good for him to have it back where it belonged. In the palm of his hand.

She turned away, waiting patiently on Xandavier. Her back faced to the two men about to fight. She didn't want to see her hard work go to waste.

[Flynn Delta]

"Now, now, Castellan, I am not from this pathetic excuse of a universe, I may be of some use to you, surely you must be in need of a brilliant individual, such as myself, I can help you. There's no need to arrest me, look, I'll even restrain your current problem."

He swings boots The Mentalist in the back of his knee and attempts to restrain him.

[The Master]

"Now, now, Castellan, I am not from this pathetic excuse of a universe, I may be of some use to you, surely you must be in need of a brilliant individual, such as myself, I can help you. There's no need to arrest me, look, I'll even restrain your current problem."

As the Mentalist went down from the blow to the back of his knee, the Master ordered several of the Guards to seize the other small group of Time Lords fleeing towards a TARDIS.

"Your service and cooperation will be remembered, Flynn. And I shall speak in your defense when you are brought before the High Council." He turned his attention to Xandavier, and sneered "A quiescence field, my Lord Xandavier?"

The Master glanced around quickly, keeping one eye on the Mentalist at all times. Then he lifted a stazer. There was a whine, and a device near the center of the room erupted in a shower of sparks.

He brought the crystalline pistol to bear on Xandavier. "I would prefer to return you to Gallifrey in chains, where you can be executed for the amusement of the Lord President and the rest of the High Council." He smiled, cruel and thin. "But I would also greatly enjoy watching you die here and now. Your choice."

[Xandavier]

Xandavier eyed the stazer cooly, and made a subtle gesture with his left hand. Plates of onyx and ebony slid out from his belt, wrapping around him and hardening into armor. "I rather believe," he stated, "that I shall accept neither choice."

He seemed to slide across the floor as he drove a side kick at the Master's abdomen. The Master twisted and blocked with his forearm, then drove his fingertips at Xandavier's armored throat. Xandavier spun, batting the blow away with one arm and chopping at the side of the Master's head with the other. The Master ducked and quickly stepped back. The air was thick with psychic tension as the two men circled one another, looking for openings.

"You can't win this, Xandavier," the Master smiled. "My men give me the edge here."

There was the sound of gunfire from one of the doors, and three of the Guardsmen fell. Four humanoid figures in armor identical to Xandavier's own - female, from the way the armor fit - advanced into the room. Xandavier smiled back.

"I think you will find that you are mistaken, my Lord the Master."

[The Mentalist]

After a kick to the knees from the Tactician, The Mentalist had to hit the ground. He took a wild swipe behind him with his blade, angry as hell. Teeth bared, his knees hit the ground and he gave a grunt of pain.

The Psychologist stopped standing where she was and instead, she sprinted out of the door. She didn't look back and was concerned about no-one else. Her other half lay on the ground and she didn't have the courage to help him. She didn't care, all her mind was concerned about was her survival.

The Mentalist heard the clack of her heels on the ballroom floor and smiled. He turned to Xandavier, watching his Onyx & Ebony armor curl around him and the fight start. They kept each other busy and upon arrival of Xandavier's back-up, The Mentalist took the opportunity. Springing to his feet, he tossed his knife in his mouth and ran toward The Tactician. He had no other choice but hand-to-hand combat.

Lunging at the Tactician with a right fist behind him, he swung it forward. he hoped for a good jaw hit, to throw him off guard. If he fell off guard, The Mentalist was sure he'd win.
He screamed, the knife dropped and snatched by his left hand. He really was insane.
"Tactician, we're in a ballroom. LET'S DANCE!"
His wild smile was plastered all over his face.

~*~
The Psychologist sped behind Xandavier's back-up and tore through the corridor. She sped to her TARDIS and entered the cabinet.

Taking her shoes off, she took to the center console and grabbed the computer. Furiously typing, she searched through all the alien life forms she could find on the planet. Most showed up as scattered little dots over the planet. She picked the first one that came into her head, stabbed that point with her finger and hung on for dear life. Little tears flowed from her eyes as her TARDIS flew toward New York. Anywhere but here was so good.

But her heart dropped as she saw what species she'd picked. A group of about 20 Thyrolians... and one unknown.

[Xandavier]

Xandavier hated to admit it, but this Master was no mean opponent. He was fast, quite skilled in venyu sankido, and possessed a powerful and disciplined mind.

He was confident of victory, but it might take minutes. Minutes he couldn't spare, even with the arrival of his Valkyrja and with the (potentially dangerous) aid of the Mentalist.

He certainly didn't have time to give thought to the drama at the other end of the ballroom. But then he heard the One's amplified voice.

"I found it, years ago, on the Junk world of Saflay 5, Broken. Destroyed."

He glanced out of the corner of his eye, and what he saw caused him to stumble. The Master seized the opening, kicking him in the stomach and driving a needle of doubt into his mind. His armor absorbed the force of the blow, but he barely parried the psychic thrust.

"I felt a strange pull to it. It's the last of it's kind. just like us. Not the last of it's species, but the last of it's kind."

"You mad fool," Xandavier hissed.

Even the Master paused to look. "What is that?" he asked, more curious than anything else.

"Time Lords, Time Ladies, I give you a Black Dalek. One of sole survivors of the Daleks that originated on Skaro, and the last member of the Sect of Skaro, called by some The order of Skaro, and the very, very last of the Dalek War-Generals of the Time War."

"A what?" asked the Master.

The black-enameled travel machine began to turn, bringing its gunstick to bear. "You are all en-em-ies!" it shrieked in its electronic voice. "En-em-ies of the One. You will be ex-ter-min-ated!"

"Destroy that thing," the Master ordered.

"Valkyrja!" Xandavier ordered, "Retreat!" He grabbed the Mentalist by the arm. "Come with me," he insisted, "We are not prepared to fight that, and we must see to the safety of your Lady."

[Flynn Delta]

The Tactician held The Mentalist's knife inches away from his face, the nice had made a nice little cut in The Tactician's nose. He watched the events unfold with The One, his little dalek. He was relieved when Xandavier yanked the Mentalist off of him. He was relieved. He laughed as the Dalek was captured

"Well Done, My Lord Master. Is there anyway I can help?" He asked walking up to him. Suddenly, once he was close enough, raised a pistol to the Master's forehead.

"No One Moves!"

[The Mentalist]

The Mentalist heard the sound of the black Dalek as it made it's way in. His eye's widened as it spoke and he snapped round in it's direction. The king of the frowns gave a scowl.

Not one of those things again. They'd given him a lot trouble a while back. The Time War mostly. To see another one was like a thorn in his side. He snarled at it, turning his knife to face it. He muttered something at it. They had more blood on their- plungers- than he had on his own hands. He couldn't tell if that pissed him off more or if it was just their ugly eye-stalks that did it.

Before he could lunge at it, Xandavier grabbed him by the arm. He turned to him, a rabid look in his eyes. Inside him, his craziest alter smiled. It laughed away inside his head, becoming more psychotic with each intake. It could tell- there was an opening. He could take the core's place, play with the body for a little while. The Mentalist put a hand to his forehead, feeling a serious headache.
"Come with me," Xandavier insisted, "We are not prepared to fight that, and we must see to the safety of your Lady."
The Mentalist really did hate being told what he could and couldn't do, but, Xandavier was not one to mess with. What he said, you went with. The Mentalist nodded and walked off toward the exit.

As he heard The Tacitian advance on The Master, he halted when he heard him tell everyone to freeze. The Mentalist scowl raised into a smirk. His headache eased. His hand crept inside his suit jacket, fingers searching for something. He found it and took it out. Then, without warning, he spun round and threw a second knife.
Right at The Tactitian. His aim was dead on. It hit the poor bastard right between the eyes. There was even a satisfying crunch of folding skull.
He laughed.
"You can't be on both sides here- well, you can't make it so obvious. For that alone, you should be punished."
Upon the sight of a little red puddle, The Mentalist frowned and turned away.
"What's fun of ending this game so soon anyway? We'll miss all the fun bits."

[The Master]

The Master blinked, hardly surprised, as the... was that the Mentalist? Had the fool Time Lords of the main trunk of history allowed him to live? The thoughts raced through his mind in the blink of an eye, in less than the time required for the version of Flynn Delta that had threatened him to crash to the ground, bleeding profusely from where the handle of the knife had fractured his skull and torn his forehead open.

As Xandavier led the Mentalist towards the exit, under cover of fire from his 'Valkyrja', the Master whispered something into his communications disk. With a roaring, grinding sound, the Dalek was swallowed up by a TARDIS..

Thirty seconds later the One had been shot, and the room was exploding in orange and red flames.

[Xandavier]

Xandavier nodded in approval at the Mentalist's rapid response.

"What's fun of ending this game so soon anyway? We'll miss all the fun bits."

"The fun," Xandavier informed the killer, "lies in not getting killed by a Dalek, which would allow us to do more later." The Valkyrja fell into place, two in front and two behind, as he left the room. "Besides, there is still the question of finding the Psychologist. And after that?"

They strode down the hall, guests attracted by the noise scattering at their approach. "After that, I offer you both the hospitality of my palace while we determine what next to do."

There was an explosion behind them. One of the Valkyrja raced forward, opened a door. They entered, finding themselves in a good-sized approximation of the control room of a TARDIS.

"I trust you will excuse the crudeness," Xandavier said, "The zeitdrakkars of Tsan Chan are pale shadows of a genuine TARDIS, but one does what one can." He gave the madman a level look. "Do you know to where your Lady would have fled? Or can you track her?"

[The Mentalist]

The Mentalist gave a small nod to his comment. Getting killed by a Dalek was no fun. Xandavier's back-up fell in line. They guarded him and he followed Xandavier. It was a strange feeling to have people wanting to protect him- most guards around him were to stop him acting out. The conversation turned to the Psychologist.

The Mentalist had a long think. He stepped into the crude TARDIS and tried not to turn his nose up at it. Xandavier was kind to give them safety of the palace but... The Mentalist stood by the control panel, throwing off his suit jacket. It was far too stuffy. Xandavier gave him a level glance and asked him if he knew where The Psychologist was.
He shrugged. He had already made up his mind.
"I don't want her involved anymore."
He watched the machine groan away, creaking and crackling. It sounded like it would break. The Mentalist refused to look at Xandavier.
"She's staying out of this. She wouldn't last a minute. Too... delicate."
In all truth, she'd abandoned him. He had no psychic link with her, he had no way to track her. She had the ability to find him, but, it wasn't mutual. The Mentalist tried to hide his sulking. He hated this situation.

~*~*~
The Psychologist's TARDIS hurtled through the vortex, diving and skimming through rifts and wibbly-wobbly bits. She held on for dear life, being thrown about, until the vortex spat her out in New York.

The ship crashed. It hit the cold sidewalk and she let out a scream, as the control room jolted her forward. Hitting her head off of the wall, she whined in pain. Getting to her feet, she stumbled towards the wardrobe to see the damage. And to change into more practical shoes.

she inspected the dent in the mirror. Her forehead dripped a little red but she felt herself slip away at points. Concussion, or so she guessed. She threw on a pair of dark jeans, white t-shirt and green Doc-Martins. Compressing the bump, she waited for a band of nano-mites to try and heal her wound. No such thing happened. Her TARDIS had been smashed up badly if the nano-mites weren't healing her...

She grew tired of waiting and wandered outside. The nearest house might have a cold compress and a friendly band of people to chat to. She wasn't quite sure what she was doing- the knock had hit her hard. Her own thoughts weren't making sense to her. She clunked along the wall closest to her crashed ship and kept searching for windows or doors.

Eventually, she found a door. It looked 21st century in it's mechanics. Scrutinizing the plastic buttons, she pushed the top one. She muttered the names.
"G. Rodriguez and Dr. D. Aubrecht.... one's a doctor...."
That would do her just fine. She pushed the doorbell again and waited for an answer or voice from the speaker system. These two guys would help her out and if they weren't in, she'd try all the buttons until someone could help her.
She thought her plan was foolproof!

[Flynn Delta]

The Tactician lay the floor, forgotten.

The fools had abandoned him, idiots didn't see that he could have helped them, he had at least gained a small amount of trust from the so called Master, The Stupid Mentalist didn't detect his ruse He could have helped but not now He struggled to stand up, barely doing so as the energy began to engulf him he pulled the knife from his head, painfully.

He winced as he brought the knife into his wrist and wiggled it.

His left hand fell to the floor.

He burst into the energy of regeneration, then beamed the energy into his spare hand.

He looked at where his hand once was a deformed and half formed hand was there, only a skinny thing, barley skin, only his pinky and part of thumb were formed. He attempted to limp off after Xandavier.

His old hand lay there, covered in blood.