Application: The Rani (Doctor Who)

[markoftherani]

The inside of the Rani's TARDIS was an unholy mess.

The Tetraps had done plenty of damage to begin with (and they'd left a fair amount of their effluvia behind, disgusting), and trying to get them out had done even more. An entire century's worth of experiments in wreckage on the floor, the contents of the greenhouse half-eaten, –and where in the universe was she going to get another Katraxian sunflower?– five hundred years' worth of notes in disarray, the neutron accelerator completely trashed, to say nothing of the hypersonic regulators -- and all of this on top of the fact that she'd never had a chance to repair the damage that unmitigated –here was a curse that couldn't quite be spoken with normal humanoid vocal chords– did when he separated the secondary console room and left her with that damn Tyrannosaurus...

Time to find somewhere quiet to settle down and fix the poor thing. She patted the console soothingly –there there, my love, it'll be all right, we'll get you back in order soon enough; that nice little planet in the Argos system should do nicely– flicked a few switches and adjusted one of the sliders—

The floor tilted wildly and she fell, catching hold of the edge of the console by her fingernails. Alarm klaxons screaming –Rassilon's arse, was that the cloister bell?– an awful groaning noise from somewhere down the corridors. She slammed her hand down on the emergency stabiliser and after one more stomach-jolting shake, everything was still.

She leaned against the console, taking stock. Her TARDIS was queasy and drowsy at the same time, and it made the Rani's stomach turn just a little as well. She checked her instruments and frowned. That time reading couldn't possibly be right, could it? And those spatial readings—what did those coordinates even mean?

Only one way to find out.

She pushed the door open and blinked in the bright sunlight. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that the chameleon circuit was working properly; to any other viewer, it would seem that the entrance plaza had sprouted an extra ticketing booth. She looked up at the sky and frowned. –Looks and smells like a bog-standard carbon-based-life-supporting planet orbiting a G-class star, but the time flow is all wonky, and dear Rassilon what is that?–

***

She takes a step towards the curious two-dimensional mouse, tries to walk around it, and when it talks, it has to be admitted that she jumps a little.

Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"

"Who's asking?" she retorts. When no response seems forthcoming, she says, "I am called the Rani."

"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.

Talking cats. Two-dimensional talking cartoon mice –wasn't this one from that planet the Doctor loves so much, that little third-rate watery rock with the unfortunately all-too-useful natives– and the flow or not-flow of time creating a feeling of pressure behind her eyes... She feels she's entirely justified in snapping, "None of your business."

"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"

She rolls her eyes. "As if wishes have any consequence in reality. Very well, if I must—I'd wish for my TARDIS to be repaired, for a fully-outfitted laboratory, and a planet where I can work in peace." She'd had Miasimia Gloria, of course, until everything there had dissolved into chaos. No thanks to the Doctor, as far as she was concerned.

"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"

"Is shooting the fool allowed?"

Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"

"Are you expecting a revolution? There are things that can be done, you know, to prevent such inconveniences from happening, but -- you were asking about skills. I am a scientist. I could engineer troops to handle the anarchy effectively. Were a food shortage to become an issue, I've no doubt I would be able to help find a resolution. I expect I could be of considerable use."

Of course, it's possible that her methods would have certain detrimental (and potentially lethal) effects on the subjects during the experimentation and refinement processes, but that was the cost of doing business, as it were.

The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"

She takes a deep breath, straining to keep her temper in check. This is becoming most wearisome. "Chocolate." Oh, yes, the plant-derived theobromine-and-vegetable-fat compound from that stupid backwater planet. "None. I can't stand the stuff."

"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"

–This is the biggest pile of nonsense I've had to sit through since that time at the Academy when bloody damn Mortimus decided– Not something she wants to think about right now. "I cannot believe I'm answering this infantile question, but if you've got to have one, very well -- robots and monkeys. Robots make reliable servants and monkeys uncomplaining test subjects." She shoots a look at the Cat that suggests it'd make a good one itself, if not for the whole talking thing. Talking test subjects are an annoyance.

"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"

"Not on me, no," she snaps. What's on board her TARDIS isn't up for discussion. "Now I've got a question of my own: where in the name of the Pythia am I?"


((Say hello to the Rani, mad scientist and villainess extraordinaire from classic Doctor Who. She's taken from a point after the end of Time and the Rani. Note that for the sake of my brain, she currently looks more like she does in Mark of the Rani -- long straight hair, fitted jacket, leather trousers, boots with wicked heels. No poofy 1980s hair and space-cadet getup. Here's a screencap gallery. Check out her userinfo for background tl;dr, video links, and other fun and games. The muns for the Doctor and the Master have given their enthusiastic permission to torture their characters even more.))

Comments

[hear-the-drums.livejournal.com]

"Rassilon fucking the Pythia up the arse," the Master growls, clocking the Doctor upside the head. "Why didn't you say anything before? Moron."

He is completely avoiding the thought of it talking because that is just not for happy-making at this point.

[a-lonely-god.livejournal.com]

The Doctor yelps, but it takes a few more moments for the giggling to subside. –as he mentally hands himself a five-pound note for the bet–

“How did you miss it?” he asks reasonably, rubbing the back of his head. “Also, eww. Really really eww.”

[hear-the-drums.livejournal.com]

"Oh, I don't know," the Master says would-be ponderously. "Maybe because I haven't been wasting my time wandering the park on my solitary days, babbling to anyone or thing that turns it's head." He hisses the last bit, then pinches the bridge of his nose, ignoring the Doctor's –schooldays ancient– reaction to the cursing.

[a-lonely-god.livejournal.com]

“It’s gigantic and runs around stomping on buildings,” the Doctor says primly. “And I didn’t talk to it. And weren’t you moaning a couple of… a while ago about me not coming out of the TARDIS for days on end? Make up your mind.”

[hear-the-drums.livejournal.com]

"I don't have to make up my mind," the Master snipes readily. "I'm flippant and caustic."

[a-lonely-god.livejournal.com]

“Ppfff,” was the Doctor’s reply. “You’re just grouchy because you missed the really really obvious T-Rex.”

[hear-the-drums.livejournal.com]

"And you're just shooting your mouth off because you forget what happens when I get angry." His eyes narrow and his jaw sets. –And it's familiar, far too familiar, as though you'd never stopped staring him down, but not for the sake of lording it over him, just for the sake of being right, of saying Dammit Theta, shut up or I'll use a laser scalpel to sever various limbs of yours when you're sleeping–

[a-lonely-god.livejournal.com]

“Why must it always end in violence?” the Doctor complains.

[hear-the-drums.livejournal.com]

"Because you never learn," the Master says, and it's closer to the truth than he would ever admit.

Not that the Doctor will notice.

[a-lonely-god.livejournal.com]

The Doctor frowned slightly and cocked his head at him.

“Is this like one of those lab rat experiments? If I press the right button I get cheese and if I press the wrong one I get electrocuted? Because I do like cheese, but I’ve already gotten electrocuted several times in this body, and it’s not much fun.” He considers a moment. “Maybe you should actually start carrying the cheese around and giving me some when I don’t screw up. That would be brilliant.”

“So, Rani,” he continues on the same breath, spinning to her with a bright enthusiasm. “Have you decided which of the delightful lands in this impossibility of a place you’d like to call home for the next indeterminate and undocumentable period of time?”

[markoftherani]

The Rani has been watching this exchange with amusement and not a little horror –because isn't it horrifying how easily they slip back into their old roles now: Koschei pushing Theta and Ushas waiting for them to stop being stupid little boys and to get back to business, and why the hell is that all coming back so vividly–

When the Doctor finally addresses her, her answer is probably entirely unsurprising: "As far away from you two as possible."

[hear-the-drums.livejournal.com]

"Well then, you'll want to be around Main Street, I think," he drawls deliberately, as he is actually trying very hard to not laugh at the suggestion of giving the Doctor cheese when he performed good tricks.

"You'll fit right in, I'm sure; all the boring people live thereabouts."

[markoftherani]

"Still deranged, but I see the cheap insults have gotten even cheaper," she sniffs. "At least you've gotten rid of the ridiculous beard."

[a-lonely-god.livejournal.com]

“I told you, he’s getting subtler with age.” The Doctor’s been shifting his weight from side to side for some time, and now he starts to bounce with slightly more vigor. He shoves his hand into one jacket pocket and comes out a moment later with a small red ball. He bounces it once off the pavement and catches it again.

[markoftherani]

"And you've gotten more manic. At least you got rid of that horrendous coat."

[hear-the-drums.livejournal.com]

"Ridiculous beard and horrendous coat? And those insults were ultra-chic, then?" Honestly, what was wrong with the bea--

No, really not going there right now.

The Master tipped his head back and forth, then couldn't stop himself from mentioning, "He's still got the coat, of course. I've been trying to burn it."

[markoftherani]

"Insults? Hardly, those were observations." She rolled her eyes. "He still has it. Of course he still has it. The Doctor's sentimentality is a universal constant."

Speaking of sentimentality... "Still got that irritating redhead traveling with you?"

[a-lonely-god.livejournal.com]

The Doctor blinks at her. “It’s been a hundred years,” he repeats, a bit slowly and painstakingly. “Of course not.”

He tosses the ball back and forth from hand to hand a few times, trying to think of a way to protest the insults to his old coat and, more importantly, his sentimentality. After a moment he gives up and closing one hand around the ball and the other around nothing but air, he offers both fists to the Master.

“Choose,” he says.

[hear-the-drums.livejournal.com]

"And we all know how much you loathe sentimentality, Rani. Or any other emotion, for that matter." He sneers a little, then hears the Doctor's voice and turns to see...

Oh, he had to be joking.

"Why?"

[a-lonely-god.livejournal.com]

The Doctor shrugs.

“Come on, which hand?”

[hear-the-drums.livejournal.com]

The Master rolls his eyes and sighs as though the whole prospect of the thing is completely offensive. He rubs his gloved hands together and taps the Doctor's right hand.

[a-lonely-god.livejournal.com]

The Doctor turns over his hand and opens it to reveal his empty palm. He grins broadly, and a second later he’s tossing the ball back and forth again, then hiding it in his hands and offering them to the Master once more.

“Again?” he questions, in a bit of a haughty little ‘think you can do better this time?’ tone.

[markoftherani]

If the Master thinks jabs about the Rani's attitude toward emotions are going to annoy her (much less hurt), he's got another think coming.

She watches the little game with an expression of utter disbelief on her face. –and since it's him, chances are exactly equal that he's either being daft or has something else up his sleeve–

[hear-the-drums.livejournal.com]

All right. The Doctor has clearly lost it. In front of the Rani. In this place, where things seem to get exponentially worse by the day. –or something like a day, since they weren't really anything like–

He is absolutely going to kill the Doctor if he loses his mind.

So he clearly has to humour the idiot.

He taps the opposite fist.

[a-lonely-god.livejournal.com]

The Doctor again reveals an empty palm. He cocks an eyebrow at the Master.