shifted_logs | The Fourth Match

Entry tags:

The Fourth Match

Characters: The TARDIS, Sorin, Spectators
Location: The Coliseum.
Time: Two days after the last fights.
Summary: The fourth of the death matches.
Warnings: Character death warning.

Apparently having brightened up, the man had tipped his hat up so that his face was no longer in shadow, so that his smile was open and clear. The hourglass awaited his command, and he drummed his fingertips on the side of it. “In contrast to the prior pair, these two are natural enemies. They might not yet know it, but what is, is. Please welcome Sorin and the TARDIS to the arena.”

The man patted the hourglass with a hand, like patting a dog on the head, and the sand fell, counting the seconds off. The killing could start again now.

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The TARDIS had absolutely no interest in this 'death match' and had long-since crumpled up the letter informing her of her appointment. She'd seen what had happened to Oliver and had no intention of allowing someone to coerce her into the same scenario. (It didn't help she considered herself impervious, either, and therefore the threat of death was moot.)

So it was when she suddenly appeared in the centre of the arena without so much as a 'by your leave,' the ship was honestly surprised. Whatever had the ability to teleport her against her will was strong, if nothing else, and perhaps worthy of some consideration. All she could manage, however, was an icy glare toward the empty throne next to which sat Caleb as she waited for her opponent.

Sorin, unfortunately enough for him, was rather busy at around the time he got the letter - what with guards and other vampires being idiots and regularly wanting to smack his siblings around the head. As such he had simply let the letter drift to the bottom of his large piles and had forgotten entirely about it.

...Until now.

So, now he is standing in the arena looking rather ruffled, rather surprised and a little bit annoyed... Though the puzzlement rather takes over when he sees the TARDIS, the poor, faintly oblivious boy.

"...Well, this wasn't expected."

Of course, in order to have a death match, one must have an opponent, but the TARDIS was still somewhat surprised to see the other man in the arena. She wasn't terribly familiar with him -- not that it would have ultimately mattered -- and took a moment to study him, making no effort to hide her attentions.

"Are you the one I am to kill, then?"

Sorin, having forgotten the end purpose of this exercise, simply blinks at her in quite severe shock for a moment - it's not like he's never been threatened over his long lifetime, in fact many have tried to kill him in increasingly inventive ways, but he's just not used to people being so blunt about it, or so unemotional; usually a lot of screaming or sneaking occurs.

...But then he remembers what is supposed to happen; and, being a fairly old and fairly arrogant creature, his eyes narrow scornfully as a result.

"No, you are the one that I'll kill."

The TARDIS actually laughed. Did this man really think himself capable of destroying her, a Time Travel Capsule? Was he that deluded?

"Foolish boy," she murmured. "I have no intention of being destroyed. I must protect my Doctor, and that cannot be done if I no longer function."

Sorin is quite a vain vampire really; it comes with living around Benedikte for three hundred or so years - no matter how sensible he was at the start anybody would end up slightly arrogant at the end; just another curse of being a vampire.

"But you must be destroyed, I can't protect my master if I'm dust," he sneers; tilting his head and allowing his eyes to flick over her - it's a trick that the starlets use when they want to intimidate people; and while Sorin thinks that all of them are brainless they must have some good ideas. "Besides, how can you stand against a vampire?"

All other responses died at the word 'vampire.' She'd felt something strange when first encountering the man, but hadn't quite been able to figure out what. He didn't feel like Diva, for instance, or the great vampires, but there was still that sense of wrong about him and the TARDIS stiffened, shifting through expressions and faces in utter disgust.

"I do not care about your master," she snapped back. "And I can because I have. Vampires do not deserve to live."

He blinks at her for a moment, not quite expecting the sudden stiffening or the changes in expression, but soon recovers - he's quite used to hate, not so used to the lack of fear along with the hate but it's quite easily dealt with.

He's superior after all; it's ingrained into his bones.

"And I do not care about your doctor," he snarls right back; well aware that his fangs have slowly started to lengthen. "And we'll be the rulers one day - perhaps you should learn a little respect before that time."

He wouldn't usually be this naked with his superiority complex; but insulting his master is always something that presses his buttons.

She outright laughed, a harsh, metallic sound that betrayed her true form. "Your kind will rule nothing but the emptiness of oblivion. There is no place in this universe for your kind, regardless of how my Doctor feels toward sparing lives."

The revolver the Brigadier always carried materialised at her side and the TARDIS lifted the weapon, aiming straight for Sorin's head. She doubted it would stop him, but it was at least a beginning. "Good-bye, vampire." And she fired.

"Then, for your impudence, you'll be one of the first to die," Sorin snarls - a little surprised by the laugh but perfectly unwilling to show it; there is no point in showing weakness to those lesser than him - those that insult both his kind ans his Master.

Surprise flares across his face at the gun; but, and thank heavens for reflexes here, he immediately shoots away - using all his vampire speed to shoot away, and only reforming into 'human' shape once he's across the Coliseum.

Right, now he's angry.

She can't say she's surprised by his flight and simply raises an eyebrow at Sorin's dash, following him sedately across the arena, gun still at the ready. She doesn't need a weapon to kill him, not really. Once she corners him, this body has the strength to rip out his throat.

But he's a vampire, and there's something so terribly fulfilling in hunting him down. She has the Time Lords to thank for that. All Rassilon's fears and anger toward the vampires has been bred into her and it comes to full bear as she hunts this one down.

Even if Sorin knew that it wouldn't change anything - he'd still be smug and utterly overconfident in his abilities; as far as he's concerned even if his opponent does have a gun it doesn't matter much - he's still far stronger.

Time will tell if that overconfidence will prove the end of him; but for now he must simply focus on the battle.

Sorin tenses for a moment at the edge of the Coliseum; then gives a wicked, almost playful smirk and shoots off again - ruffling her clothes as he darts behind her and right to the other side - as far as he's concerned he can toy with this one a while, teach her to mind her place before he kills her.

He is fast and it's frustrating, but the TARDIS ignores his taunts, standing still in the arena as he runs past her. She refuses to be intimidated by a vampire. And besides, two can play this game.

The TARDIS lifts her arm and fires -- bang bang bang bang bang bang -- each round fired in a different direction. Sorin can run around her all he wants, but she has unlimited bullets with this projection and one of them has to hit eventually. Let him run when he's wounded.

Sorin has a moment to think on how utterly annoying it is that she doesn't even react, he also has a moment to think on how, really, he's being a little immature over this... But then she is firing, and he can think of nothing else.

The bullet doesn't kill him, or even maim him that much - it isn't of silver and so it doesn't set his blood on fire. But it still staggers him; and he blurs back to visible - clutching at his arm, mildly shocked at actually being hit; even if there was little opportunity to avoid it.

Time will tell if the hesitation is enough.

The moment he stops, she moves, dashing toward him, hand outstretched for his throat. All the anger and resentment she's ever felt toward Diva fuel her; she's never been able to truly hurt the other vampire, but this one, wounded as he is ... maybe he'll be different. Maybe he will fall to her properly, as the vampires should to Time Lords.

Sorin, in all his shock, doesn't move - his arm is healing but it's ever so slow and, in his arrogance, he just assumed that even if she did catch him she wouldn't be able to do anything to him. He was a vampire after all, untouchable in all ways.

But now she's almost upon him; and it's only just starting to occur that his assessment might be wrong.

The TARDIS ignores Sorin's apparent surprise, snapping out her hand for his neck. This body is as strong as she chooses to make it, so long as it doesn't exceed her ability to continue projecting, and she's fairly certain she can crush his throat if given enough time and a good enough hold. If he remains standing still, she sees no reason this will be difficult.

Sorin chokes as she grabs his throat, waves his arms a little in the air and then... Then he starts to laugh; high and arrogant - he can feel her power but he's still pretty confident. His throat is only his throat - he'll be hoarse for a few days after he kills her (after, of course, he gives himself a few moments to savour her frustration) but he'll recover in time; it's the way of the world.

Poor, overconfident idiot.

"Do you find your death amusing, boy?" The TARDIS' expression remains impassive, her fingers tightening around the vampire's throat, strong enough to kill a normal human, though she's sure he's stronger than that. It's no matter. Even if he can withstand this, she'll ride the Plane of him in the end. Having fun whilst doing so isn't so bad.

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The Fourth Match

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