"Now that can’t be right…"
"And what would that be, dear Doctor? Do tell, I am dying to know.”
"Through crimson stars and silent starsand tumbling nebulas like oceans set on fire, through empires of glass and civilizations of pure thought,and a whole, terrible, wonderful universe of impossibilities.You see these eyes? They’re old eyes…
What - the fuck - just happened?
It was a table-turning experience for the Doctor when he woke on a cold floor, manacles clamped about his wrists that were in turn fixed to the surface on which he lay via a few feet of chain. Usually it was he who got the jump on someone, abducting them for his vile purposes, but here he was, captured and pissed off, and with a sticky residue of blood on the back of his head courtesy of whatever blunt instrument had knocked him out.
He curled his lip at the only other figure in the room, a man with his own face. Fantastic. He hated others of his own incarnation, flaunting his own failings and hypocrisies in front of him, judging him.
"If you think this is going to stop me, you’re a disappointment to yourself," he growled. "I do what I want, I go where I want and I take whatever I please. Especially if it’s a hot companion of yours, and I’ll do it over and over again while you’re there to watch.” XI grinned horribly, unaware just exactly which ‘Doctor’ was hearing his spiel.
Oh, this one was certainly different. No matter how much it may have been like looking in a mirror, the Interfector could feel the immediate difference between them. He was naive, out of his depth. He was foolishly thinking he was dealing with the Doctor.
Little fortune favored him this time. He was dealing with so much worse than the Doctor. While the Doctor’s name could turn whole armies to run, the Interfector’s could turn whole galaxies to flee in terror without a single thought of looking back.
Each step that brought the Interfector closer fell silently, like that of a predator stalking upon its unfortunate prey. He could almost laugh at the other man’s words. They were so sure of themselves, yet they held no weight here. He was helpless. Nothing was more pleasing than looking down on the identical man, chained up and no doubt soon to be subjected to his will.
"You have absolutely no idea who I am," it was a state of fact, nothing assuming, all knowing and rhetorical. "Do you.”
Rose bit back the scream. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t. As much as her body wanted to let the sound through, her stubbornness refused to give him that satisfaction. So even though she could taste the blood in her mouth, feel the hot tears sting her eyes, Rose remained silent in front of him.
He was disappointed. Surely she was holding back simply to spite him. So there they sat, craving a reaction out of one another. But the Interfector would win. He always won.
In a swift movement, his hand was wrapped about her throat, squeezing and demanding with ghost white knuckles. “Remaining stubborn, even now,” he mused quietly; almost too quietly. “I have to applaud you. At least you are consistent in being a little bitch.”
You make them so afraid. When you began all those years ago, sailing off to see the universe, did you ever think you’d become this?
//Ahhh oh my goodness, thank you so much!! This message just really makes my day— I’m so glad you enjoy, my dear! <33
"I am the Interfector. Whatever the hell you want, make it quick and do not waste my time.”
//There is a part deep within his subconscious that does, but he can’t afford to let it affect him consciously. If he did, he might completely snap and lose touch with all reality. So the answer is pretty much no, he doesn’t.