The encounter (Coco, Brax)

((Closed off to: Coco and Brax))

Darren sat at a nearby cafe, in a newly 'bought' leather jacket and a pair of aviators. Sunlight cascaded down upon his face as he watched the firemen rushing around the building that he recently blew up. Darren never liked blowing things up, this was a new turn for him.

Everyone had vacated the area, he hadn't been spotted yet, which was a good sign. He took another sip from his latte, spitting it into the plants. It didn't taste very good.

Ring…ring!

Darren scoffed, taking out his phone. It was Myriam's replacement. He had no clue who it was but any number that started with a +30 must be from Torchwood. This replacement had some nerve digging up the files that he took so long to destroy.

"Darren."

"Ah, Mr. Hughes. I'm just telling you to come back to HQ, I have re-recruited you. Do not protest. Just get yourself here."

The phone call ended. Darren didn't move, a chuckle rising up from his chest. Did the man not know what happened to Myriam? He must have…all recruits were told of the story and taught how to deal with this situation.

But he had better things to do…

Ring…ring!

"Who's this? Oh…right…yes, I can do that…a simple stab to the chest or the new way I have adopted…? Of course, will do it soon."

Darren put away his phone for the second time in a row, heading for a large skyscraper a few streets away from the destruction. He took a photo, saving the memory.

He entered, quickly making the staff on the ground floor turn. He raised an eyebrow, they went back to their daily routine.

A knife extending from his sleeve as the doors of the elevator closed…it went from the ground floor to the 74th in a matter of seconds.

FIVE MINUTES LATER…

The task was done, blood covered his jacket, in which he shrugged. The client was happy and so was he…it had been a while since he had killed anyone with a knife.

The Master sighed. Here he was trying to enjoy a nice quiet drink, and they were hounding him like dogs. Torchwood. Scum of the galaxy. The man who had entered the bar was clearly government and he was even trying to hide it. The Master wasn't in the mood for a fight. He knew there were literally millions of people across the galaxy who wanted him dead but he was enjoying the low profile. He took a sip from his drink then stood up and left. As he pushed open the door to leave he glanced back with a slight smile as he watched the man who had entered start to cough, clutch his throat and collapse to the ground. He wasn't dead, but the powder the Master had slipped into his drink wasn't going to make him happy for a while that was for sure.

The Master exited the bar and his attention was immediately drawn to the screaming. He'd expected a little shock in the bar behind him but not the mass cry from the building opposite. "Murder" was the word he heard the most. The Master was an observant man so it didn't take him long to spot the man with the blood on his jacket. Intrigued, the Master followed him. Who knew where it might lead him...

Darren walked on the streets, the delightful screams of people who had spotted blood on his jacket. To be honest, it was clumsy of him to do so, but what was the authors going to do? Arrest him and placing him in court? Oh…that's right! He had blown the court to bits, the main one at least.

Hopefully that was their best judge…

Darren put on his sunglasses again, but in the corner of his eye, he spotted another man walking up towards him. The odd thing was, he wasn't shying away from him like all the rest were. He cocked his head, standing there, a grin slowly spreading across his features. He could tell a killer from miles away, this one definitely intrigued him.

"Oh…that is great timing, boys…" Darren said as he heard sirens rounding the corner.

Blue and red lights flashed either side of him, but he continued to stand there, guns aimed at his torso. He casually took a step forwards, his hands in the air.

"Stay exactly where you are! Drop your weapons!" Yelled a policemen.

Darren did as he was told, dropping the bloodied knife. Policemen, so…dull. He rocked back and forth on his heels, unfazed by the current situation he was in. Many passer-by's paused to view the scene that was unfolding in front of them.

"Let me guess…the replacement of Torchwood wants me? I killed the last." He smirked.

Many of the policemen shared a concerned look at each other, their weapons still aimed at him. They couldn't do nothing and he couldn't really do anything, unless he wanted to be shot. Which the result was a big 'no.' It was a stalemate...

"Put your guns down..." The Master's voice commanded, "Or I'll kill you myself..." He pulled what looked like a scruffy piece of paper from his pocket and flashed it in front of the lead policeman's eyes. Whatever it said was enough to frighten him into giving the order. The guns went down. The Master smirked. "Run," he ordered mockingly and they did. They ran faster than they'd ever run before, the whole team, all 5 of them. The Master winked knowingly to Darren. In truth, he'd seen something of a charm in the murderer that impressed him. This man could be useful.

Darren was impressed. A single man was able to make the entire swarm of police scatter. He wondered what exactly was on the piece of paper, but knowing his luck, he would not find out. He straightened up, chin slightly pointed upwards as he extended a hand.

"Darren Hughes. Who might you be?"

He looked around, making a few people stumble away. They knew that it was a private conversation, so they left the two people to it.

Darren leant against the wall, his foot pulling in the knife and bending down to pick it back up and into his pocket. This was an unusual experience…he had never come into contact with a killer who had acted friendly towards him.

Ring…ring!

Darren sighed, rolling his eyes. It was that replacement fellow…he still had to ask his name.

"Mr. Hughes…where the hell are you?!"

"Really? I'm in the middle of a PRIVATE conversation, Mr. Replacement. I will not hesitate to hunt you down and pin you to a wall as you die in the most painful way possible…call me later." He made a clicking sound before ending the phone call.

He tilted his head to apologize for the inconvenient phone call. He could tell that the man was going to use him in someway, but wasn't sure how.

"My name is not important. For now, call me... Saxon. " The Master had heard Darren's claim to have killed the last head of Torchwood. Torchwood had been shut down a long time ago now but rogue pockets still operated, and it was possible that one secretive organisation had assumed the title and operated as 'the' Torchwood. "I'd like to meet Mr Replacement..." The Master said slowly, almost menacingly. "I have a problem with some of his agents, and he has information I would very much like..."

Darren smirked, impressed at the capability of the man to co-operate on his little side errand. He pushed himself off the wall.

"Saxon…now, why does that sound familiar…" He said. "Well, come tag along. I promise you that it won't be pretty."

A glint appeared in his eyes as he began to make his way through the crowd, it parted, scared to touch the man with drying blood on his jacket. He stopped at a crossing, looked around before taking a left down an alleyway. The knife was out, glinting in the mid-moring sunlight.

"Torchwood. One of the last standing buildings, stupid things won't stay dead." Darren's voice was laced with malice, walked up to the security guard, pretended to stumble and stab the blade through the stomach.

The guard fell, Darren kicked his body, stepping over. He turned to face 'Saxon' and indicated that it was safe to go in.

"One guard outside, fourteen cleaners, two thousand or so workers…run and funded by the secret part of the government." Darren pressed the lift button.

It was a quick journey up, the doors reopened and Darren stepped out, taking an dramatic in take of breath. He gestured for 'Saxon' to do the honors. They were right outside the office of the replacement.

The Master had remained behind Darren for the journey in, observing his work with curiosity. He was impressed. The Master looked at the door to the office. The polite thing would be to knock. The impolite thing would be to kick it down and leap at the man inside with a weapon. The Master decided to go somewhere in the middle. He knocked then kicked the door down before a response. Silently he raised an eyebrow at the frightened man inside. The Master knew his presence was fear-inspiring but it still amused him. Then with a slight bow, he gestured for his companion to enter. 'Saxon' was silent, a playful grin poking at the sides of his mouth.

Darren strolled in, as casually as he could manage. Adrenaline had started to pump around his body, a grin plastered on his face.

He stood in the center of the room, tilted his head at the frightened man. Whoever this 'Saxon' was, he seemed to strike fear into the most hardy people.

Darren bowed. "You wanted to see me?"

The man cleared his throat, standing up and stopped shaking. Darren paced slowly around the room, allowing the man to yell at him for not coming to the HQ with the police, momentarily forgetting the looming presence of Darren's new playmate.

With a pretend yawn, Darren stopped pacing, staring the man straight in the eyes. A laugh echoed through the room, "You really don't get it do you?"

"What do you mean? Of course I get it…you didn't show up to work!" The man snorted.

Darren took a few steps forward, grabbed the man by the collar and pushed him against the wall. The insane smirk replaced the grin.

"I don't work for you, I work freelance. All those explosions of well-known monuments were my doing! I was the one that sliced Myriam's throat open, I suggest if you want to mess with me…I'll take the back seat."

Darren, still holding on to the man, got up, releasing his grip and pushing the trembling man towards Saxon. He nodded, taking a seat in the man's chair.

"All yours."

The Master caught the terrified man and calmly propped him up, brushing down the man's suit. "You should take care of that, it looks expensive." he said with a chuckle. "Your men have been looking for me so I assume you want me for something..." he started. The man looked confused and 'Saxon' rolled his eyes. "I am the Master..." he said and the man's eyes widened stumbling backwards. "So let's make a deal. You tell me what you want, then I'll tell you what I want..."

Darren watched the scene, moving his head between the scene and the screen of the computer. He was searching up files on himself, checking whether he had left anything out when he initially trashed Myriam's computer.

He looked up when 'Saxon' finally introduced himself as the Master. The Master? Of what? Darren continued with his search, deleting the ones he had stumbled across. This man was called: Housten.

It intrigued Darren when the Master struck up a deal, he raised an eyebrow but a pop-up email caught his attention.

Dear Housten,

We have received a note from the files of Myriam, concerning Darren Hughes. He is a dangerous criminal, mind you. So stay safe, don't pull anything funny around him. Results in a stab in the chest or a snapping of a neck. I would advise you not to push him too much, you know what happened to Myriam.

Meet me at the basement, in five minutes. I have the shipment.

-GH

Darren scoffed, sitting back in his chair. He got up, nodded at Saxon and Housten before exiting and catching the lift down to the basement.

Ding!

He stepped out, a shadow came to greet him, stumbling back once realizing who it was.

Darren stood there, unblinking. The figure in front was talking about a shipment…drugs? He headed over to the large box and proceeded to open it.

"Stand away."

He turned around to see a barrel of a gun aimed at him. Darren smirked, easily kicking it out of the man's trembling hands. "What is in this shipment? If I find out…" He lashed out, punching the man to the floor, kneeling besides him. "I won't be pleased…will I?"

The man groaned in agreement, Darren got up, opened the crate to reveal goods that were banned in several planets. With a couple of well-rehersed moves, Darren snapped the man's neck.

"Not pleased."

"You're a criminal," the replacement man stuttered, "You've broken just about every law ever in every galaxy." The Master nodded his head in pride. "I wouldn't say every law..." "Torchwood has been tasked to arrest you, and I will..." The Master laughed, the back of his hand smacking into the side of the man's face. "You? you're worth less than the suit you're wearing. You're worth less than my spit. You couldn't stop me if I was unconscious." he snapped grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and lifting him off the ground. A crash echoed throughout the office as the man was thrown over the Master's head and smashed into the wall, falling into a heap on the floor. The Master wasn't particularly strong but fear had made the Torchwood employee weightless and the Master seemed genuinely angry. "Now tell me everything you know about the Hive..." The Master whispered into his ear, crouching down with a devilish glint in his eye.

Darren nodded, content at his finished job. He had rigged up several explosives around the box, finding them in the storage unit.

He prodded the man out of our boredom before heading upstairs. He had arrived when Housten was thrown into the wall, Darren flinched at the loud sound it made. Not overly keen of loud crashing sounds, it always brought trouble. But then again, the man always threw things. This was normal for him.

Tilting his head, he heard something about the 'Hive' and wondered what it was about. He knew it was a cult of some kind, presumably.

Darren wanted to intervene, have a portion of his fun. "Ahem…" He leant across the doorframe. The man had clearly had enough, he wasn't even concentrating and that annoyed him the most.

Walking over, kneeling down beside the man, he slapped the man. Hard. It left a red mark on his cheek for a while. "Concentrate."

Darren went back to the computer to see whether anything was important. Not likely, it was all going to get blown to bits.

"Oh, Housten. Concentrate, I have a detonator in my hand. One push of this button will bring down the building. I saw that email. I did not like it. So, tell the Master what you owe him and we'll be on our way." Darren smirked, holding the detonator in his hand, rather proud of himself.

The Master nodded his thanks to Darren. Housten swallowed then answered although the Master wasn't impressed: "I don't know anything except that they were the ones that put the kill order on your head. Any records of them will be kept at the archives. They're in a separate building. Only Security Level 9 knows where and 10 can access them. I'm only level 7." The Master smacked him across the face again. "Thank you," he said, "If you'd been more helpful I might have let you live. Instead, you've just killed everyone in this building." He clicked his fingers at Darren, gesturing he should blow the place up and headed for the door. "Wait 'til we're outside first though..." he told Darren.

Darren scoffed. "I wasn't going to blow the building up when we were inside it…clearly."

He walked out, turned and pushed the button. Everything happened in slow motion: a huge rumbled occurred in the ground, soon, the damage was spreading upwards, shattering all the windows and flames soon engulfing the building.

Flames were reflected in Darren's eyes. It was impressing, how explosives could destroy an entire building.

"I guess that's one flea off my back."

He turned up the jacket collar, covering his neck from the cold. Already, police and the alien equivalent SWAT teams were whizzing around the building, watching the destruction. They couldn't do anything. Everyone was dead.

"Where do you want to go? There's a Chinese restaurant around the corner or the pub a few blocks around here, we'd have to take a cab." Darren turned to the Master.

He walked within the safety of the darkness, watching the SWAT and fire service try to extinguish the flames. He wanted to call out, to say that everyone was dead.

"That was fun." Darren grinned, showing his top half of his teeth.

"...Pub," The Master said after carefully considering the options. He had to admit that he and Darren worked well together. "I need a drink," he said. He glanced over at the swarming law enforcement agencies with a grin and disappeared into the darkness with Darren. It seemed like years since he'd done something... evil.... he missed that feeling of power that rose up inside you on victory. "We'll drink to a job well done, and the beginning of what could be a beautiful friendship..." he declared with a grin.

Darren's grin only grew bigger. They entered the pub, he ordered whatever was on the menu, which caught his fancy. "Here's to a beautiful friendship." He enjoyed the Master's company. All the other's he had been with were able to dispose of real easily. This one will stick.

"I think it'll be on the house…" Darren said, referring to the amount they would have to pay for the beers.

Suddenly, a loud was heard and the door swung open, a dead corpse flew past Darren. He was startled, only for a moment. It was another drunk skinhead, probably one too many drinks and way over debt. He could leave the situation until it spiraled out of control.

"Stupid…throwing a person who is already dead, pathetic." Darren growled under his breath.

The skinhead turned to face him, they stared for a moment. He knew who the man was and cocked his head, his face expressionless.

"Wha'ya lookin' at?!" The skinhead yelled.

Everyone backed up, pushing themselves further into their seats, hoping not to be crashed on. The man easily picked Darren up, his face still impassive. Alcohol reeked from the man's breath. Darren raised both eyebrows, pinching a pressure point between the thumb and the first finger.

This caused Darren to be dropped out of the massive, grimy hands. The skinhead turned to face him, growling.

"Get lost." Darren said, his voice raising only slightly.

The man looked confused but soon made his way wobbling outside. Now for the corpse...

The Master sat silently, sipping at his drink and twiddling his thumbs. It amused him to watch Darren work. "He seemed friendly," he commented looking at the skinhead. Then he playfully nudged the corpse towards Darren, "I think he likes you."

Darren nodded, mock pouted, sitting back down at the booth he was in. "Drunkards…they have no impulse control. Annoying as hell…" He sipped his beer. "Hah, very funny."

He wiped his jacket, getting rid of the feeling of the man grabbing him by the shoulders. He remembered the corpse, muttering something about Halloween. He brought over his beer, placing it on the bar and crouched down beside the corpse. It was burnt, a victim of the late Torchwood incident.

"What the…"

Darren began to check the body, turning it onto its back and carefully poking around the remaining bits of the man.

"Saxon…this man's from the…um, Torchwood." He tried to sound as innocent and as shaken as possible, quickly sending him a wink, to show that he was only acting.

"What's a Torchwood?" The Master laughed, crouching down to look at the body. "So how did you get here..." he whispered to the corpse. "Unless you're a message, someone trying to tell us something. The question is what? and to which one of us?" He scratched his head then stood up straight. "Looks like we've got a mystery to solve," he declared with what sounded awfully like excitement creeping into his voice.

"Hmm. That drunk fella…he knew something, face is as guilt-ridden as possible." Darren could hear the excitement creeping into his friend's voice. He quickly paid the bill, he didn't especially want to blow the place up, the beer was quite good.

He strode outside, looked both ways, turning up his coat collar. "Drunk man has cleared. Damn, I shouldn't have told him to get lost. Torchwood is somehow still after us and figured that we had blown their HQ to bits."

A bit of pride was integrated with the statement, along with a frown. He wasn't happy. He never liked being trailed, it was unnerving and frankly, quite annoying.

"Do you think I put enough explosives? Put the whole batch, all 24 of them…" Darren mumbled. He was getting tired, but Torchwood must be after them.

Darren would get to the bottom of this and then eliminate the bottom of the food chain, everything else would follow suit. He walked briskly along the darkened path, letting the cool breeze brush against his face.

"I imagine the bombs did the trick, that's the problem with organisations like Torchwood, they tend to have more than one operational hq. And once they latch onto you, they're like parasites you can't get rid of." There was a clear bitterness to his voice but it seemed like the Master was angry at something other than Torchwood that was seeping out. The Hive perhaps. he brushed a hand through his hair as he stepped outside and after a quick glance around, followed Darren. "You've had the most dealings with them, where to?"

"Most dealings…I used to work for them." He gave a growl of disgust. "Basically, a secret serial killer for hire. They would tell me who to kill and my reward was that I was able to kill three of my own choosing."

He scratched the back of his head, leading him to an underground passage. It led to a smaller Torchwood base, in which he spent most of his time there, waiting for an assignment. This place brought great discomfort to Darren, knowing it was the place where he was under somebody's control. It sent shivers down his spine, he grimaced but barged the door open, wanting to get this place demolished as quick as possible.

"Hi there, just browsing for someone. Oh wait--" Darren laughed as he reached up and snapped the alien's neck. The alien became a puddle of gloop, getting slowly sucked in by the drainage system.

"Master, what is The Hive anyway?"

((By the way, who is that in your profile pic, he's cool xD ))

(That's the actor Timothy Hutton, I'm using him as my incarnation of the Master. He is cool XD I know him from a show called Leverage)