Master Test
Part Two: (Brave) Hearts and Flowers
By V. Jewitt

(In which the Ainley Master and the Movie Master make their attempts
to restore their bad name. It's still harder than it looks, with much
rifling of the TARDIS wardrobe and some truly evil poetry...)

WARNING: No spoilers - it's just still very silly... ;-)

The Movie Master, although he liked being told what to do no more than
any of his other selves, was not too displeased at the prospect of the
task ahead of him. He had not had anything else planned for the day,
so finding some new and terrible thing to do to the Eighth Doctor
would hardly be a chore.

The only problem was what to wear for the occasion?


In contrast, the Ainley Master was fuming. The interference of his
two immediate past selves was insufferable and, worst of all, they had
accused him in front of his other four selves of having played 'Cupid'
for the Fifth Doctor and Tegan. Remarks like that stung. Perhaps he
had grown a little tired of the stupidity of the pair of them and
shoved them through a handy PLOT hole, but that wasn't to say he had
truly meant any good by it.

In his view, there was only one way to silence such a criticism and
that was to do exactly the opposite. The Master found his cricket bat
and crept into the Round.

The Fifth Doctor was sitting with Tegan and Turlough and nervously
watching Nyssa while the other two argued. The Trakenite was sitting
on a table alone, looking angelic, which worried him.
"Doctor, watch out!" yelped Turlough suddenly as the Master arrived,
waving the cricket bat wildly.

It was the last thing the Doctor remembered for some time.


"No, too over the top," decided the Movie Master, going through the
wardrobe in the Doctor's TARDIS. "Mustn't make that mistake again."

Outside, Charley and the Doctor peered in.

"I told you there was someone in there," she said in a whisper.
He looked irritated. "It really is about time someone found the
Master a TARDIS of his own. And he's going through my clothes again.
That always means he's up to something particularly unpleasant."
"Why not lock the door?" suggested Charley.
He sighed. "It never seems to stop him. He must have discovered
that spare key."
"No, lock him in the wardrobe!"
A look of amusement passed over the Doctor's face. "Charley, did I
ever tell you you're a genius?"
"I don't think so, Doctor."
He caught hold of her hand. "Charley, you're a genius! Now, come
on, I just have to work out a way to secure a door with no lock!"
"Oh," said Charley.
He smiled at her. "It shouldn't be impossible - and it'll be a while
before he notices..."


The Fifth Doctor woke up back in his TARDIS with a headache. He
wondered what had happened this time and seemed to remember the Master
creeping up behind him with a cricket bat, of all things.

"I think I might be going off that game," he said aloud, and wondered
out into the console room in search of one of his companions.

However, just when he wanted someone to explain to him what had
happened, he was suddenly alone.

Tegan heard a noise and left her room, entering the console room to
find the Doctor, apparently recovered, and holding a huge bunch of
She wondered if this was some weird dream, but reflected that they
were still in the environs of the Round and anything was possible.
"These are for you," said the Doctor woodenly.
Even if he had seemed a little more cheerful, she knew the Doctor was
never about to turn around and present her with a bouquet, so she took
them gingerly. "For me? Are you feeling better now?"
"Yes, thank you." He pointed at the flowers. "There's a note."
She grinned at him. "What is this, Turlough's idea of a joke?"
"I suggest you read it and then you can tell me!"
Tegan opened it. "But - that can't be right!"
"That's what I thought," said the Doctor, folding his arms. "Perhaps
you'd care to explain to me why the Master is sending you flowers?"
She was struck dumb for once.


"Aha!" The Doctor, rummaging through a cupboard had found exactly
what he was after. "This little beauty should do the trick!"
"Doctor," said Charley, sounding unlike herself.
He turned and found that the Master, now dressed in a dark suit, had
her by the neck.
"I've gone for the traditional approach today," he told him. "Now
put whatever that is down or I shall kill your young friend."
It was no use anyway now and the Doctor dropped it. "Let Charley
go. It's me you want."
"You know," mused the Master, "I never realised how vain you are,
He faced him. "Let her go!"
He pushed her away violently and drew out his gun.
"I'm vain?" said the Doctor belatedly. "How many hours do you spend
in my wardrobe and you say I'm vain?"
He grinned slowly at him. "No, Doctor, I'm just insane. Angry and
dead - and insane. Now, what shall we do today?"


"So, nothing happened at all last night, but the Master has sent you a
huge bouquet of flowers to thank you for it?" summed up the Doctor.
Tegan nodded hopefully. "He apologised and helped us get you back
here, Doctor. I wouldn't even have let him do that, but Turlough was
complaining that he'd hurt his back and couldn't possibly manage it."
"And then he sent you flowers?"
"Can we try and get over that bit?"
He gave her a reproachful look. "I'm afraid, Tegan, I don't think
that I can."

Tegan stormed out of the TARDIS and headed for the Round, determined
to give the Master a piece of her mind. He was clearly intending to
cause trouble and she was not about to let him. Why couldn't the
Doctor understand that, just because his arch-enemy had chosen to use
a bunch of flowers rather than anything more deadly?

She went across to the bar.
"Has anyone seen the Master?"
"They all seem a bit busy at the moment," said Harry, "but one of
them left this for you."
He passed her a note and a dried flower.
"This is insane," complained Tegan and then opened the note to find
that she was the recipient of poetry so bad it had to have been
written by an evil mastermind.


"Can I make a suggestion?" asked the Eighth Doctor, who wasn't too
fond of activities that involved chaining him in up in his TARDIS,
killing his companions and trying to suck any nearby planets through
the Eye of Harmony.
The Master sneered. "You can. I may not chose to listen."
"How about instead of wasting everyone's time by annoying me," said
the Doctor, "you go find yourself a TARDIS and I promise to give you
anything you want from my wardrobe?"
He laughed. "Or, of course, I could steal this one, complete with
Charley, who was tied up the floor, said, "Doctor, I think you've
given him ideas!"
"It was worth a try..."


"Go away!" exploded Tegan. "And no, I don't want to go out with you!"
The Master refused to move away. "Why not?"
"Why not?" shot back the irate Australian. "I can't believe you had
the nerve to ask!"
He smiled infuriatingly. "My dear Miss Jovanka, if you don't agree
to dinner with me -."
"What?" she demanded. "If you're threatening to kill me, I would
much rather die!"
The Master became put out. "That's a little extreme, wouldn't you
say? You'd rather die than eat a meal with me?"
Tegan glared.
"Oh, very well," he said. "If you don't come with me, I'll only have
to write more poetry to come to terms with the disappointment."
"I know you're just doing this to annoy the Doctor," she told him.
"Well, congratulations! The flowers were more than enough, not to
mention what you did to him last night."
The Master sighed and pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper. "Can I
call you Jane?"
He shook his head. "I may have to use free verse this time. Have you
tried finding rhymes for 'Tegan'?"
"Funnily, enough, no!"

By the time the Fifth Doctor walked in, Tegan was sitting to one side
of the Round, stiff with anger while a crowd had gathered round the
Master's table with helpful suggestions.
He read out his progress so far: "Dearest Tegan, / I love you / Far
better than Megan (pronounced the Australian way)."
The Doctor stared and decided that the only option was to walk back
out again.

"That's not a poem," complained the First Doctor. "Does anyone know
where this young man can find a creative writing course?"
"Look, will you stop it?" yelled Tegan. "The point isn't how bad his
writing is - what's he doing writing poetry about me in the first
He held out his hands in outraged innocence. "I'm crazy about you."
"Yes, you're crazy, all right," growled the supposed object of his
affections. "Go away!"
The Master never liked to be beaten in anything, although he should
have grown used to it, after his many years of practice. "Should I
have tried chocolates?"
Tegan folded her arms. "Let's get this straight, shall we? I am not
ever going out with you anywhere, no matter how many flowers you send,
how much poetry you write, or even if you send me chocolates!"
"What can I have done?" he asked.
She said, "Where's that paper of yours? I'll make a list!"

"Hmm," read the Master, "it's like music to my ears, this poem of
"It isn't a poem," she said. "It's all the things you've done to me
and the Doctor!"
He read aloud:

Killed Auntie Vanessa.
Scared me in the TARDIS.
Tried to destroy the universe
(Don't think I didn't notice!)
Tried to kill the Doctor
And the rest of us for that matter.
Tried to kill the Doctor.
Kidnapped Concorde.
Tried to kill the Doctor.
Tried to ruin history.
Did I forget anything?

"Probably," said the Master and re-read his evil deeds with amused


Charley decided that she had better take a hand before the Master did
something that she and the Doctor would regret.
"It must be difficult," she tried, "not being able to pursue your
interests. After all, the Round isn't the sort of place where one can
find out much about fashion, is it?"
The Master turned to her. "No. But where else is there?"
"I don't know," she said, "but you'd think there might be somewhere.
What do you think, Doctor?"
He was trying, without much success, to free himself, "I'm not much
interested in fashion right now."
"You see?" hissed the Master. "It's all his fault! If he _were_ to
take an interest in such things, we'd have designers and who knows
what else in the Round. But no, he only wants to chase evil round the
galaxy, so what do we get?"
Charley wanted to say, *People like you?* but she managed not to. "I
know," she sympathised. "It's such a shame."
"Hmm," said the Master. "Maybe I should keep you?"
The Doctor glared. "That isn't fair! Stop trying to pinch my
companions! Next time you get bored, go and find your own TARDIS,
your own clothes and your own companion!"
"I'm sure we could find somewhere for you to go," Charley said,
thinking hard. "Maybe we could find one of the authors and ask them
nicely to write you into a story about all that sort of thing?"
He said sourly, "Who'd write a story to please the Master, let alone
this incarnation?"
"Oh, really, Charley," said the Doctor, who was either playing some
game of his own or really had failed to see what her intentions were.
"What do you suggest, someone writing a cross-over with 'The House of
She frowned. "The what of what?"
"It's no use," said the Master painfully. "Don't torture me with
such impossible ideas. I would never fit in."
Charley was going to ruin everything by giggling. She had to
swallow. "But you're a good at disguises, aren't you? I'm sure you'd
think of something."
"You know," said the Doctor, finally being helpful, "it might be an
idea to have a word with Morgaine, if she ever comes back to the
He sat down. "Would you really?"
"If you untie me and Charley and don't kill anyone for a few weeks, I
don't see why not," said the Doctor. "As long as I don't have to read
the result."
The Master hesitated. He was, after all, supposed to be proving his
evil. But a fashion cross-over of some kind after the desert of bad
taste that was the Round...! He untied Charley with a bad grace and
left her to free the Doctor.
"You had better keep your word," he shouted from the doorway, "or
there will be a reckoning!"
"Yes, yes," muttered the Doctor under his breath. "Charley, what was
it we were meant to be doing?"

The Master ran into Sutekh at the door of the TARDIS.
The Osirian villain blocked his path as steam rose from the ground
around him and pronounced judgement on his progress.
"I do not find that good!"


The Master was trying to ask Tegan out again, when he met his

Tlotoxl burst out of the crowd. "What is this?"
"I'm sorry?" said the Master.
He glared at him. "I was sent to mark your progress in villainy and
evil but I am forced instead to watch this - this feeble attempt to
gain the favours of a mere female!"
"Excuse me?" said Tegan.
He flung his writing materials onto the floor. "I refuse to have any
more to do with this!"
"Aha, but there is a good - I mean _evil_ - plot behind it all,"
explained the Master. "The idea was of course to make the Doctor
miserable -."
Tlotoxl spluttered. "In a contest of wickedness your aim was to make
your worst enemy unhappy? You did not seek to achieve his eternal
shame or to pluck his still beating heart from his body or -?"
"No," snarled the Master. "I'm not some bloodthirsty savage from
earth's history. I prefer to be subtler, more devious!"
"Pah!" said Tlotoxl. "I refuse to give you any points!"
The Master shrugged. "As if I should care, you painted moron."
Tlotoxl left, in high dudgeon.
The Master turned back to Tegan, since he hated not to succeed with
his latest plan.
"I've told you," she said, "I'm not going on a date with you!"

"Still," said the Master, "whatever that Aztec idiot may think, I've
certainly managed to annoy the Doctor."

And Tegan would come round to his way of thinking - once he'd just
found the right threat to make. Or kidnapped her. Or hypnotised

Prelude - Part One - Part Three - Coda

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This Time Round was created by Tyler Dion. All characters are
copyright of the BBC and Big Finish.