Post by Fitz Kreiner on Mar 24, 2009 22:10:43 GMT
Jess walked up from Camden Lock into the bustling high street, laden with large bags. She still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the Doctor’s passing her off for a shopping trip while Tom, Morris and himself went off to investigate the plastic factory. Still, if he was suggesting that she could take a bit of a break; things couldn’t have been as serious as they had been in the past. Either way, she was glad for this break. She wasn’t normally much of a shopper, but she was rather enjoying herself she had to admit. No doubt she’d be back in the thick of it as soon as she found herself back at UNIT HQ.
“Jess?”
At first, Jess didn’t take any notice of the voice. No one could have known she was in the area or even her name. She’d seen nothing but anonymous faces in the two hours she’d been wandering about. She’d made sure to keep a wide berth of any mannequin she’d seen. She could still hear the Doctors comments about the Nestene and Autons, she didn’t want to take any chances, even if she was being paranoid.
“Jess? It is you!”
Jess’s eyes widened as she realised someone was shouting to her. Her recognition of the voice suddenly clicked into place and she turned round, scanning the crowd for the source. Her eyes fell on a shape squeezing through the late afternoon crowd towards her.
“My Gods, it is you, I thought you were meant to be in America by now?”
Jess recognised the shape of Kelly, her housemate from Lincoln, her electric blue long hair making her stand out from the crowd. Kelly was looking at Jess incredulously as though not really believing that Jess was stood there.
“I wondered why I hadn’t had a postcard. You given up your idea of travelling?”
Having been initially taken aback, Jess composed herself. “Not quite. I just changed my mind about how I was doing it.” She replied, getting jostled by people walking past. “Look, I’m meeting back up with my friends in about two hours, but I’ve got time for a drink if you have?”
Kelly smiled and agreed. “The Devonshire is just round the corner.” She said. “You always said you wanted to go there. Then you can tell me all your goss.”
“Yeah, sure.” Jess managed, shifting unsure about what to say about her change in circumstances.
Reactions that she had acquired and toned since she had been travelling with the Doctor suddenly kicked in as she heard Kelly cry out, before stifling the scream. Spinning round to look for the cause of the cry, Jess saw Kelly recoiling in shock, her hand to her chest, from a street performer, who had suddenly appeared beside them. Although she couldn’t say she blamed her, he did look rather creepy with thick white makeup and black eyes, with a clown’s teardrop in the corner of one eye. The man even seemed to be wearing full eye black contact lenses, lending him a dead blank eyed quality.
He was stood staring at the two girls, his head cocking from one side to another before he jerkily moved his arms in a mime artist style. He was wearing almost Middle Eastern clothing with a black pointed turban on his head, elaborately decorated in gold and silver and red, black and clear glass beads.
“Oh Gods, he gave me a start.” Kelly laughed looking over to Jess before looking back at the performer, who was now giving a broken and jerky wave to them both.
“Creepy things,” Jess shuddered, pulling Kelly around the performer, who turned on the spot, still waving. “I don’t trust them.”
“Oh come on.” Kelly replied giggling. “They’re just a bit of harmless fun.”
“Still, they’re freaky. Like those living statue guys.” Jess pointed to one of the street performers stood stock still on a plinth in the street farther up the road. “Can we cross?”
“Wow, you’re really jittery hun, you ok?” Kelly asked, pausing and looking at Jess.
“Yeah.” Jess nodded. “Just these street performers freak me out a little. What’s with them anyway?”
“Where’ve you been?” Kelly asked as the two turned the corner. “Didn’t you hear about that thing up north, Derbyshire was it? They had some sort of emergency about something and evacuated everyone.”
“Oh yeah, I seem to remember hearing something about that.” Jess smiled to herself.
The Master strode purposefully across the factory floor towards a sealed door, his hands clasped behind his back. Following in his wake, several paces behind him were Andrea Rogers and Lemaitre. Passing the machines, none of the workers even looked up as the trio passed them. Reaching the far side of the factory floor, the Master stopped in front of a pair of double doors with large warning and security notices adorning them. Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, he produced a key attached to a silver chain which remained securely fastened to his jacket.
Popping the key back into his pocket, the Master held the door open for Andrea and then followed her through, Lemaitre bringing up the rear and closing the door behind him. Reaching out, the Master flicked on the light switch and the halogen bulbs clunked to life flooding the security area with a harsh white light.
Crossing to a large chamber with a ridged metal arch over the top, the Master peered in through the small glass window and nodded, before walking towards a metal stairwell. Peering through the glass, Lemaitre saw a large bubbling vat of molten plastic. Four large metal struts stuck out of the glutinous material with thick electric cables snaking round them. Lemaitre took a jump back when a large bubble swelled and then popped in the vat.
Turning, he followed the Master and Andrea up the stairs into the small office. There was already a figure stood in there, a bald figure wearing a maroon boiler suit and beige scarf around its neck. Several ornate looking Venetian masks adorned one of the walls.
“You failed, didn’t you; killed the wrong person.” The Master said to the Auton, not even looking at the mannequin as he crossed to a control panel. As if in reply, the Auton’s head bowed and it stepped backwards into a corner. Turning, the Master glared at the plastic figure. “Not that it matters, deactivate.”
“Not that it matters? It brought the Doctor round here snooping?” Lemaitre said.
“The Doctor would have come round here soon enough.” The Master purred as he reached up and picked one of the masks off the wall. “It is of no coincidence that I chose you and your factory for this operation. The Doctor’s biggest downfall is his curiosity, and it will be peaked. That is why I set up, if you will, a dummy company.”
Andrea turned from the observation window overlooking the security area and several inert Auton’s laying on work benches, chuckling at the Master’s pun. “And when he does, we will know about it.” She said, reaching out and switching on a monitor.
The small black and white screen flickered to life showing a small cell containing a prone body lying on a bench, kept so that the facsimile could be maintained if needs be. Lemaitre peered closer at the uniformed figure.
“A private?”
“A Private James Baxter.” Andrea said switching the monitor off.
“He came snooping around the security area.” The Master said, stroking his fingers over the smooth, brightly coloured mask he was holding before holding it out to Lemaitre. “What do you make of the craftsmanship?”
“Wonderful,” Lemaitre said studying the smooth surface carefully. “And from one piece of moulded plastic?”
“A very special moulded plastic,” the Master confirmed, reaching out and taking the Mask from Lemaitre. Placing it on top of an instrument panel, he turned to Andrea and clapped his hands together. “My dear Miss Rogers, would you mind popping into the factory and bringing me a volunteer.”
“Of course, Master.” She replied turning and walking quickly down the stairs.
“You see,” the Master continued, turning back to the instrument panel and inserting the silver key into a slot on it. “The masks are by way of a means to an end to help in the grand plan, as our willing volunteer will soon prove.”
The Master turned the key in the panel and a pair of metallic doors slid open on a small metal cabinet next to the instrument panel. Thick tubes and power cables snaked from the top of it into the roof of the office and away to the machines and vats below. As the doors slid open they revealed a translucent polyhedron which pulsed with a blue light, attached to many cables which snaked from both the top and bottom of the cabinet.
Reaching into the cabinet, the Master pulled out a cable that snaked from the globe with a loose end. Picking up the mask, he attached the cable and threw a switch. The pulsing light in the globe increased in speed before dying down as the Master turned the switch back to its original position and placed the cable back in the cabinet.
“Soon you will see what these masks will be useful for.” The Master said, turning to Lemaitre and holding the mask between his thumb and forefinger. “We just need to test them before we distribute them in the morning for next week.”
As if on cue, Andrea returned to the office with a worker from the factory in tow. He was ruddy faced and had his ear protectors around his neck.
“You wanted to see me, Monsieur, Mr Rogers?” he asked stepping into the office and looking around the security area in bemusement.
“Yes, thank you for coming.” The Master smiled, turning to face the man. “We just want you to test this for us before we start a mass production and distribution in the morning.”
“Certainly, sir.” The workman said taking the mask from the Master.
“It’s a special new technique we’ve developed that should make it softer and more comfortable against your skin, and mould better to your face.” The Master said, stepping back and folding his hands behind his back.
“A mask?” the workman replied, tapping at the face of it with his bitten down finger nail, making a dull clunking noise. “Feels pretty rigid to me.”
“Trust me,” the Master said holding his hand out to the workman. “Try it on for me.”
Nodding, the man pulled the mask up to his face and stretched the cotton covered elastic strap over his head. After several seconds he nodded. “It really is comfortable.” His muffled voice came from behind the grinning mouth of the mask.
“That was the desired effect we were going for.” Andrea said, moving over to stand beside the Master. “But because they’re for the upcoming festivities, we need to run a few tests.”
“Quite, Miss Rogers,” the Master confirmed. “People are to be wearing our masks for some time, so if you would oblige me, and run up and down the stairs a couple of times.”
The workman looked at the Master, his confused eyes staring out of the black ringed eye holes in the mask.
“If you please?” The Master asked, indicating to the door.
Turning, the workman jogged down the stairs before turning round and jogging back up. Reaching the top, he turned and repeated the motion two more times before coming to a stop, panting in the doorway.
“It’s a bit hard to breathe through,” he panted. “Maybe make a hole for the mouth and the nose holes a little larger. And it makes you sweat like hell.”
“Splendid.” The Master smiled, flicking a switch on the panel beside him before turning to face Lemaitre. “And now you shall see.”
Lemaitre looked at the workman, whose confused eyes were still staring out of the eye holes of the mask as he reached up to remove it. As Lemaitre watched, the surface of the mast seemed to become shiny, as though it were wet. Then, the colours, which were previously sharply defined, seemed to merge together and the workman’s eyes turned from confusion to panic through the holes.
“What is this?” he cried through the softening plastic.
The Master smiled and laid his hand softly on Andrea’s shoulder as he observed the scene before him. The workman was reaching up and clawing at the edge of the mask, trying desperately to prise the plastic covering from his face. The edges of the plastic were melting and attaching to the man’s ruddy flesh. The colours were fast running together and merging into a glutinous mess covering his face.
Panic flooding out through his bulging eyes, the workman tried to open his mouth to scream, but found that the plastic was melding to his face and keeping his mouth and jaw clamped shut. Forcing himself, he managed to open his mouth slightly to scream. The sound died in his throat as he tried to force air out of his mouth and it hit the viscous molten plastic that started to creep in. His eyes widened farther as the realisation that he was suffocating filled his mind.
Lemaitre watched in morbid fascination as thick bubbles started to form around the now indistinct mouth and nose area of the horrific looking mess that once was a face. As he watched, almost as quickly as it had started, the sheen to the mask seemed to fade and it became the satin covering of plastic it had been before the grotesque experiment. Now a twisted and gruesome parody of a mask, the workman’s eyes almost bulged out of both their sockets and the eye holes in the mask, his chest heaving as he struggled desperately for his last breath.
“A most successful test, don’t you think, Monsieur Lemaitre?” The Master asked, turning his head to look at the awestruck Frenchman. Lemaitre turned from the dying man to look at the Master before turning back to watch the workman’s last seconds of life. Dropping to his knees, one hand still clawing at the grasping and suffocating mask, the other outstretched for help, his bulging eyes finally rolled back into his sockets and he toppled over backwards, dead. Rushing to his side, Lemaitre touched the man’s neck and then looked up at the Master.
“Dead,” he reported. “Bon, that was a very successful demonstration. I shall arrange for the disposal of the body.”
“I believe the furnaces are still lit.” The Master said coolly turning back to the instrument panel and placing his hands on it and looked out to the secured area below. “A very successful test, I want these masks put into mass production immediately so that shipping can begin at dawn.”
“Will that be possible, Master?” Andrea asked, joining him at his side.
“If our human workers aren’t able, we still have the Autons. Don’t forget my dear,” he turned and placed his hand on her shoulder again, “they don’t require sleep and are very efficient.” Casting a glance over his shoulder and the frozen Auton in the corner, he added; “For the most part.”
“How did it happen?” Lemaitre asked.
“I added a code from the Energy Unit,” the Master said, turning to face the man. “Activated by perspiration and carbon dioxide from the lungs. We can code in a sequence for the masks to activate as soon as I send the activation signal, so there are no premature deaths. Imagine it happening to the tens of thousands of revellers during the festivities next week. The country will be plunged into chaos, and amid that chaos, the Autons will strike. Once that happens, I shall activate the facsimiles and we shall take over.”
“Jess?”
At first, Jess didn’t take any notice of the voice. No one could have known she was in the area or even her name. She’d seen nothing but anonymous faces in the two hours she’d been wandering about. She’d made sure to keep a wide berth of any mannequin she’d seen. She could still hear the Doctors comments about the Nestene and Autons, she didn’t want to take any chances, even if she was being paranoid.
“Jess? It is you!”
Jess’s eyes widened as she realised someone was shouting to her. Her recognition of the voice suddenly clicked into place and she turned round, scanning the crowd for the source. Her eyes fell on a shape squeezing through the late afternoon crowd towards her.
“My Gods, it is you, I thought you were meant to be in America by now?”
Jess recognised the shape of Kelly, her housemate from Lincoln, her electric blue long hair making her stand out from the crowd. Kelly was looking at Jess incredulously as though not really believing that Jess was stood there.
“I wondered why I hadn’t had a postcard. You given up your idea of travelling?”
Having been initially taken aback, Jess composed herself. “Not quite. I just changed my mind about how I was doing it.” She replied, getting jostled by people walking past. “Look, I’m meeting back up with my friends in about two hours, but I’ve got time for a drink if you have?”
Kelly smiled and agreed. “The Devonshire is just round the corner.” She said. “You always said you wanted to go there. Then you can tell me all your goss.”
“Yeah, sure.” Jess managed, shifting unsure about what to say about her change in circumstances.
Reactions that she had acquired and toned since she had been travelling with the Doctor suddenly kicked in as she heard Kelly cry out, before stifling the scream. Spinning round to look for the cause of the cry, Jess saw Kelly recoiling in shock, her hand to her chest, from a street performer, who had suddenly appeared beside them. Although she couldn’t say she blamed her, he did look rather creepy with thick white makeup and black eyes, with a clown’s teardrop in the corner of one eye. The man even seemed to be wearing full eye black contact lenses, lending him a dead blank eyed quality.
He was stood staring at the two girls, his head cocking from one side to another before he jerkily moved his arms in a mime artist style. He was wearing almost Middle Eastern clothing with a black pointed turban on his head, elaborately decorated in gold and silver and red, black and clear glass beads.
“Oh Gods, he gave me a start.” Kelly laughed looking over to Jess before looking back at the performer, who was now giving a broken and jerky wave to them both.
“Creepy things,” Jess shuddered, pulling Kelly around the performer, who turned on the spot, still waving. “I don’t trust them.”
“Oh come on.” Kelly replied giggling. “They’re just a bit of harmless fun.”
“Still, they’re freaky. Like those living statue guys.” Jess pointed to one of the street performers stood stock still on a plinth in the street farther up the road. “Can we cross?”
“Wow, you’re really jittery hun, you ok?” Kelly asked, pausing and looking at Jess.
“Yeah.” Jess nodded. “Just these street performers freak me out a little. What’s with them anyway?”
“Where’ve you been?” Kelly asked as the two turned the corner. “Didn’t you hear about that thing up north, Derbyshire was it? They had some sort of emergency about something and evacuated everyone.”
“Oh yeah, I seem to remember hearing something about that.” Jess smiled to herself.
*
The Master strode purposefully across the factory floor towards a sealed door, his hands clasped behind his back. Following in his wake, several paces behind him were Andrea Rogers and Lemaitre. Passing the machines, none of the workers even looked up as the trio passed them. Reaching the far side of the factory floor, the Master stopped in front of a pair of double doors with large warning and security notices adorning them. Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, he produced a key attached to a silver chain which remained securely fastened to his jacket.
Popping the key back into his pocket, the Master held the door open for Andrea and then followed her through, Lemaitre bringing up the rear and closing the door behind him. Reaching out, the Master flicked on the light switch and the halogen bulbs clunked to life flooding the security area with a harsh white light.
Crossing to a large chamber with a ridged metal arch over the top, the Master peered in through the small glass window and nodded, before walking towards a metal stairwell. Peering through the glass, Lemaitre saw a large bubbling vat of molten plastic. Four large metal struts stuck out of the glutinous material with thick electric cables snaking round them. Lemaitre took a jump back when a large bubble swelled and then popped in the vat.
Turning, he followed the Master and Andrea up the stairs into the small office. There was already a figure stood in there, a bald figure wearing a maroon boiler suit and beige scarf around its neck. Several ornate looking Venetian masks adorned one of the walls.
“You failed, didn’t you; killed the wrong person.” The Master said to the Auton, not even looking at the mannequin as he crossed to a control panel. As if in reply, the Auton’s head bowed and it stepped backwards into a corner. Turning, the Master glared at the plastic figure. “Not that it matters, deactivate.”
“Not that it matters? It brought the Doctor round here snooping?” Lemaitre said.
“The Doctor would have come round here soon enough.” The Master purred as he reached up and picked one of the masks off the wall. “It is of no coincidence that I chose you and your factory for this operation. The Doctor’s biggest downfall is his curiosity, and it will be peaked. That is why I set up, if you will, a dummy company.”
Andrea turned from the observation window overlooking the security area and several inert Auton’s laying on work benches, chuckling at the Master’s pun. “And when he does, we will know about it.” She said, reaching out and switching on a monitor.
The small black and white screen flickered to life showing a small cell containing a prone body lying on a bench, kept so that the facsimile could be maintained if needs be. Lemaitre peered closer at the uniformed figure.
“A private?”
“A Private James Baxter.” Andrea said switching the monitor off.
“He came snooping around the security area.” The Master said, stroking his fingers over the smooth, brightly coloured mask he was holding before holding it out to Lemaitre. “What do you make of the craftsmanship?”
“Wonderful,” Lemaitre said studying the smooth surface carefully. “And from one piece of moulded plastic?”
“A very special moulded plastic,” the Master confirmed, reaching out and taking the Mask from Lemaitre. Placing it on top of an instrument panel, he turned to Andrea and clapped his hands together. “My dear Miss Rogers, would you mind popping into the factory and bringing me a volunteer.”
“Of course, Master.” She replied turning and walking quickly down the stairs.
“You see,” the Master continued, turning back to the instrument panel and inserting the silver key into a slot on it. “The masks are by way of a means to an end to help in the grand plan, as our willing volunteer will soon prove.”
The Master turned the key in the panel and a pair of metallic doors slid open on a small metal cabinet next to the instrument panel. Thick tubes and power cables snaked from the top of it into the roof of the office and away to the machines and vats below. As the doors slid open they revealed a translucent polyhedron which pulsed with a blue light, attached to many cables which snaked from both the top and bottom of the cabinet.
Reaching into the cabinet, the Master pulled out a cable that snaked from the globe with a loose end. Picking up the mask, he attached the cable and threw a switch. The pulsing light in the globe increased in speed before dying down as the Master turned the switch back to its original position and placed the cable back in the cabinet.
“Soon you will see what these masks will be useful for.” The Master said, turning to Lemaitre and holding the mask between his thumb and forefinger. “We just need to test them before we distribute them in the morning for next week.”
As if on cue, Andrea returned to the office with a worker from the factory in tow. He was ruddy faced and had his ear protectors around his neck.
“You wanted to see me, Monsieur, Mr Rogers?” he asked stepping into the office and looking around the security area in bemusement.
“Yes, thank you for coming.” The Master smiled, turning to face the man. “We just want you to test this for us before we start a mass production and distribution in the morning.”
“Certainly, sir.” The workman said taking the mask from the Master.
“It’s a special new technique we’ve developed that should make it softer and more comfortable against your skin, and mould better to your face.” The Master said, stepping back and folding his hands behind his back.
“A mask?” the workman replied, tapping at the face of it with his bitten down finger nail, making a dull clunking noise. “Feels pretty rigid to me.”
“Trust me,” the Master said holding his hand out to the workman. “Try it on for me.”
Nodding, the man pulled the mask up to his face and stretched the cotton covered elastic strap over his head. After several seconds he nodded. “It really is comfortable.” His muffled voice came from behind the grinning mouth of the mask.
“That was the desired effect we were going for.” Andrea said, moving over to stand beside the Master. “But because they’re for the upcoming festivities, we need to run a few tests.”
“Quite, Miss Rogers,” the Master confirmed. “People are to be wearing our masks for some time, so if you would oblige me, and run up and down the stairs a couple of times.”
The workman looked at the Master, his confused eyes staring out of the black ringed eye holes in the mask.
“If you please?” The Master asked, indicating to the door.
Turning, the workman jogged down the stairs before turning round and jogging back up. Reaching the top, he turned and repeated the motion two more times before coming to a stop, panting in the doorway.
“It’s a bit hard to breathe through,” he panted. “Maybe make a hole for the mouth and the nose holes a little larger. And it makes you sweat like hell.”
“Splendid.” The Master smiled, flicking a switch on the panel beside him before turning to face Lemaitre. “And now you shall see.”
Lemaitre looked at the workman, whose confused eyes were still staring out of the eye holes of the mask as he reached up to remove it. As Lemaitre watched, the surface of the mast seemed to become shiny, as though it were wet. Then, the colours, which were previously sharply defined, seemed to merge together and the workman’s eyes turned from confusion to panic through the holes.
“What is this?” he cried through the softening plastic.
The Master smiled and laid his hand softly on Andrea’s shoulder as he observed the scene before him. The workman was reaching up and clawing at the edge of the mask, trying desperately to prise the plastic covering from his face. The edges of the plastic were melting and attaching to the man’s ruddy flesh. The colours were fast running together and merging into a glutinous mess covering his face.
Panic flooding out through his bulging eyes, the workman tried to open his mouth to scream, but found that the plastic was melding to his face and keeping his mouth and jaw clamped shut. Forcing himself, he managed to open his mouth slightly to scream. The sound died in his throat as he tried to force air out of his mouth and it hit the viscous molten plastic that started to creep in. His eyes widened farther as the realisation that he was suffocating filled his mind.
Lemaitre watched in morbid fascination as thick bubbles started to form around the now indistinct mouth and nose area of the horrific looking mess that once was a face. As he watched, almost as quickly as it had started, the sheen to the mask seemed to fade and it became the satin covering of plastic it had been before the grotesque experiment. Now a twisted and gruesome parody of a mask, the workman’s eyes almost bulged out of both their sockets and the eye holes in the mask, his chest heaving as he struggled desperately for his last breath.
“A most successful test, don’t you think, Monsieur Lemaitre?” The Master asked, turning his head to look at the awestruck Frenchman. Lemaitre turned from the dying man to look at the Master before turning back to watch the workman’s last seconds of life. Dropping to his knees, one hand still clawing at the grasping and suffocating mask, the other outstretched for help, his bulging eyes finally rolled back into his sockets and he toppled over backwards, dead. Rushing to his side, Lemaitre touched the man’s neck and then looked up at the Master.
“Dead,” he reported. “Bon, that was a very successful demonstration. I shall arrange for the disposal of the body.”
“I believe the furnaces are still lit.” The Master said coolly turning back to the instrument panel and placing his hands on it and looked out to the secured area below. “A very successful test, I want these masks put into mass production immediately so that shipping can begin at dawn.”
“Will that be possible, Master?” Andrea asked, joining him at his side.
“If our human workers aren’t able, we still have the Autons. Don’t forget my dear,” he turned and placed his hand on her shoulder again, “they don’t require sleep and are very efficient.” Casting a glance over his shoulder and the frozen Auton in the corner, he added; “For the most part.”
“How did it happen?” Lemaitre asked.
“I added a code from the Energy Unit,” the Master said, turning to face the man. “Activated by perspiration and carbon dioxide from the lungs. We can code in a sequence for the masks to activate as soon as I send the activation signal, so there are no premature deaths. Imagine it happening to the tens of thousands of revellers during the festivities next week. The country will be plunged into chaos, and amid that chaos, the Autons will strike. Once that happens, I shall activate the facsimiles and we shall take over.”
