The Whale's Stomach - By Aaron Burley (27/08/2020)
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This is original version, do tread carefully around the odd spelling mistake that I missed during the editing process, for I'm sure there's always one that slips through the net.
ENJOY!
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The Whale's Stomach
Written by Aaron Burley
Debra McHanon was born on the 18th June 1992, she grew up in Hastings, England and went to Buckswood School from the age of 10 till she was 18, she then went to University to study ‘political science’ for three years until she left to pursue her own dream of building up a company, she used the money that she had been given when her parents died to fund said company and she became the CEO and Founder of the McHanon corporation - they specialised in an anti-virus software yet were recently making the jump to creating full on operating systems, they aren’t 100% committed yet but the door is still open for progress, only time will tell. It was about three years into her company's success that she got married to a very lovely man named Samuel, he was a lawyer, one of the nice ones thankfully - they bought a house in London together for a fairly high price and they've lived in it ever since.
In the past few months, Debbie had brought up the idea that she should run for Prime Minister in the upcoming election, things had been shaky and she considered herself to be a worthy candidate. The party was for a magazine she had offered to do, get the word out about her business and advertise herself to the country, it was titled “Political Scientists” or something - she hadn’t paid that much attention frankly.
The event was a bore, she had given the interview earlier this morning, she had made quite a few good points on it not being all about money and how the future of humanity is more important that currency, she had thought she had given across a rather important message on freedom, self-appreciation and always striving to fight for what is right but she was fairly sure the magazine would find some way to make her seem pretentious, they were always doing that. She had only come here to do the interview, London was a very active place during these times, a collection of the rich and well established insisted she stayed for the afterparty, it was mostly filled with various magazine reporters or a small selection of other “Political Scientists” - some of whom shared Debbie’s vision for the world, some did not however and that slight majority made her feel uneasy and want to go home. The other party goers did not allow such a thought to cross her mind, they needed her here, it was all for advertising, they wanted to put in their magazines that she had been at the party to scrape in more readers, she hated that sort of thing - she was only welcome here because of who she was, not because of WHO she was, does that make sense?
“No,” thought Debbie, “of course it doesn’t, you're just talking to yourself now, of course YOU would understand, you're the only one that does.”
She was rather cross with how long she had had to be there, she had to ring the Babysitter telling her that she had to stick around for a while longer. Hannah didn’t mind, she was nice like that, she said over the phone that she had nothing much to do tonight anyway, so that was lucky. Debbie still felt bad though.
She looked around the room, gazing at all the faces that surrounded her, all of them sipping from flute glasses of which held sparkling champagne that stung your tongue as it was poured into your mouth. All of the smug looking business types chatting away about business this and business that, it was never about socialising, only business, which made sense really - you couldn’t expect anything else from a political science magazine party, but still, it all felt rather exhausting, unlike what a party should actually be. She remembered back to when she was ten years old, she had been to this huge play area place, there were climbing frames and zip wires, they danced to music and did the conga around the whole place, halfway through she and about a dozen invited school mates all played laser tag for a few hours before they all had the chance to devour slices of birthday cake. That was the sort of party she enjoyed, not smug business talk in a big room, no music, no balloons, no laser tag and no cake. Boring.
Her train of thought was lost when she scanned the room once more, everyone else in the room was chatting to each other, enjoying eachothers company in the presence of reporters and lots of alcohol. No one was looking at her except for one person, or at least she thought it was a person, they could have been a statue due to how still they were standing - they were staring directly at her. She couldn’t see their face but she knew they were looking, through a thin red ballroom mask were a pair of white pale eyes at the other side of the room, just staring, never seeming to blink at all. They wore a suit, jet black with a deep, blood red waistcoat underneath - all quite Gothic compared to her own fairly modern dress sense. She glanced about them, hoping to make any other deduction, his hands - his hands were all scarred over it seemed, all black and crusting over with red sharp streaks as if they had recently been handling a very hot flame. They were not close enough for Debbie to see anything else, only the suit, the mask, the mangled set of hands, and of course those eyes - brown irises sparkling through white, pale spheres within dark, shadowy sockets.
It made her feel uneasy, the final nail in the coffin that made her begin to leave, no matter what anyone said to her on the way from this party to her home - she was leaving, right now. Her shoes clicked and clacked quickly across the marble floor, echoing under the sound of business chatter and politics, all the way towards the exit door.
She looked up at one of the bouncers outside with a worried glance. A big, bald man in a suit and an earpiece clipped to his suit jacket pocket.
“Are you alright Miss?” He asked with a rather gruff voice, he sounded how he looked.
“Yes, yes, yes, everything's fine,” She replied hastily, “I’m going home now, I’m a little tired.”
“Well alright Miss, have a good night.”
“Yes, thank you.”
She carried on out into the cool, night air, heading down the street outside, bathed in flickering lights and twinkling stars, also flickering due to the light pollution of the city street. She found her car; it was electric blue and had one of those heaters under the seating, nothing too expensive, just flashy enough to make her feel cool whenever she drove it around, currently she did not feel cool.
She looked through her front windscreen, worried she might see a masked figure with pale eyes and scarred hands under one of the lamps, waiting silently like some sort of hungry wolf. She did a 360 degree scan of the street, it was empty except for all the cars that were probably all owned by the other party goers. Debbie leant back in her seat, inserted the key into the ignition, took a deep breath and turned the key.
The car revved to life, she let go of her breath.
“Oh, thank god.” She whispered to herself, that encounter with the masked figure had made her paranoid, she had expected the car to not work at all and yet here it was revving away, letting out fumes and hastily moving away from the curb and making it’s journey down the road, maybe the figure wasn’t anything - or anyone - to worry about at all, maybe she had just gotten worked up over nothing. She pondered on that thought, it being the only thing to comfort her as she made her way home.
Following the winding roads under the light of yellowing street lamps and the eternal presence of the full moon in the shadows of the night, the finally after so many hours of driving in heightened state of panic, the only hope that it was all paranoia slowly beginning to shine brighter as every second passed, Debbie’s car pulled into her driveway. She opened up her car door and stepped out onto the tarmac, she paused for a second, listening to the wind as it blew past her ears in a gentle breeze.
The gentle breeze seemed quite loud though, it sounded as if it was groaning, wheezing, as if it was difficult and was taking more effort than usual to blow the calm wind through the air, the wind jittered and spluttered around her until suddenly her concentration was shattered by a loud THUD!
Debbie looked around her, nothing had fallen, the wheezing had stopped and she whipped around to see if there had been anything at all but to no avail - her search was fruitless.
“I’m going crazy.” She said out loud, in a way that was supposed to comfort her, or even scare off anything, or anyone that had been around to hear her, that thought alone backfired against her as she was no longer as comfortable as she was a few moments ago.
She shook her head, ridding herself of the paranoid thoughts, she locked the car and walked up the long cobbled path up towards her front door, fondling with her keys and jamming one of them into the door lock, twisting it, and entering the house.
“Hi Mrs M!” Shouted a voice, the babysitter - Hannah Stone, she shouted out from within the living room.
“Hi Han!” Debbie shouted back, she locked the door behind her again, the adrenaline of panic still racing through her veins at a million miles per hour. Hannah stepped out from the living room, removing a pair of earphones one at a time, seeing Debbie and smiling a wide and cheeky grin.
“How was the party?”
“Dreadfully uneventful,” She lied “Just a lot of talking.”
“Sounds like an absolute bore.” Hannah chuckled, Debbie chuckled too, a bad attempt at forcing a sense of calm over herself.
“Was Roger alright?”
“Good as gold, he cried for a bit, kept throwing his teddies out the cot but after a while he just tired himself out, the poor thing,” She said, “he’s busy sleeping now.”
“That’s good.”
“What time will Mr M be getting home?”
“Not long now I should imagine.” Debbie thought about how Sam would often complain about getting home late, he hated driving in the dark, thinking about it now she could see why.
“That’s good, it ain’t nice being alone at this time.” Hannah laughed, it was meant to be a joke but Debbie just felt a shudder go down her neck - she needed to change the subject.
“How much do I owe you?” Debbie began digging out her purse, rummaging among her notes.
“Just the usual.”
“Are you sure?” Debbie brought out an extra amount from her purse, “For your troubles?”
“It’s alright, really.” Hannah took the usual amount of a single twenty pound note from Debbie’s fingers, “I’ll be seeing you Mrs B.”
“Alrighty, if you’re sure.”
“Trust me, I am, have a good one.” Hannah began to put on her coat, she picked up her bag and Debbie was forced to unlock the door once more, allowing Hannah to step out into the shadows and the wind, out into the world. Hannah waved as she made her way out the house, down the cobbles and out of sight.
Debbie was alone in the house, all alone once more.
She decided to head upstairs, Roger’s room was the first on the left, the door was closed so Debbie reached out and turned the handle. A crack of light from outside leaked into the room, she had to be careful as to not wake him up, she opened the door wider and stepped into the shadow riddled room where she saw her little bundle of joy sleeping in his cot, peaceful and quiet as the night.
Then out from the darkness, from just behind the door, just behind her...came a voice.
“Oh look, mummy’s home.” The voice was quiet, posh sounding, very formal. Debbie froze, she was still for a moment, had she imagined it? She slowly turned around, and there it stood, in the outline of the door frame, the figure of a man.
“Who are you?” Debbie whimpered, she backed up against the wall, her eyes darting between the figure and her baby who was still sleeping, completely unaware of what was going on.
“That’s a very good question, I can understand why you would ask it.” The figure turned and reached over towards the light switch - flicking it on - a sudden burst of light filled the room, momentarily blinding her. The light also managed to wake up Roger, he began to cry, Debbie’s eyes placed themselves on the screaming baby, a mother’s instinct to protect him filled her mind but all the same she stood frozen in fear as she moved her gaze back to the figure.
“Oh my god.” Debbie put her hand to her mouth, it was the same man from the party, only this time he no longer wore the mask over his face, she could see every grotesque detail of his bald, mangled, burnt off face; dried up flesh half melting around his eyes and mouth, revealing nerve endings and yellow teeth placed within blackened gums, streaks of red blood and puss had dried up around his nostrils that flared and pulsed as he breathed out from his putrid set of lungs. The creature smiled as Debbie absorbed his image into her mind.
“What’s wrong?” He asked sarcastically, “have I got something on my face?”
The creature wore a jet black cloak around his Gothic style suit, his mannerisms and clothing giving him a vampiric aura around him, he took a step closer towards Debbie - she had nowhere to go, the wall was stopping her from getting away, he blocked the door, she was trapped.
“Get out of my house, my husband is on his way home.” Debbie threatened, her husband wasn’t exactly worthy of fighting anyone, like her, he preferred to not be in the centre of conflict.
“His name is Samuel, correct?” The creature asked kindly.
“You know him?” Debbie asked, who was this disgusting looking man?
“I met him on the way here.” He grinned to himself.
“What have you done to him, where is he?!”
“He was found on the side of a road a few miles from here, his wounds were too serious I’m afraid” The man scratched his hand, a few flakes of burnt skin fell onto the carpet by his feet.
“Who are you?!” She screamed it this time, the creature laughed, moving his attention towards Roger with a horrible grimace, “Get away from him!”
“Oh of course, you wish to protect him, do you not?” He smiled again, the skin around his mouth stretching, it looked like it should hurt and yet he kept on smiling as if he couldn’t help himself.
“Get away from him.” Debbie couldn’t move, her words were fruitless and this thing knew it, he walked up towards Roger’s crib, reached down and picked up the baby as it’s screams echoed out from its mouth. He looked down towards Roger’s tear-drenched face, cradling him in his arms, rocking him back and forth.
“Such a strange concept; a baby, apparently it’s such a terrible one too, so thank the stars I never had to put up with it.” He said.
“What?” Debbie had no choice but to keep him talking, if he was talking then he was distracted, it wasn’t much of a plan but it’s all she had.
“I was never a baby, we don’t have that where I come from.”
“Who are you?” She asked again.
“Third time’s the charm I suppose,” He chuckled, “let me just deal with this sweet thing first, his cries are giving me a headache.”
The man made his way towards the window.
“Stop, please, stop!” Debbie moved away from the wall and pushed forwards towards the man. He turned around, and removed from his pocket, what looked to be some sort of pistol, it was red and dressed in highlights of silver, red and black - it crackled with a green light from it’s barrel. He held the baby in one arm and pointed the gun directly at Debbie, with the other.
“No more steps from you young lady, I have business to attend to and I’d rather you not mess things up.” He turned back towards the window.
“Please!” Debbie cried, the man placed the baby down on the window sill, giving him time to crack the window open and let some air into the room, the sounds of the calm breeze returning to their ears, “Don't do this.”
The man lifted up Roger once more, the baby was still crying, more loudly this time than ever, as if he could sense what was about to happen. The man stuck Roger through the frame, out into the breeze. The cries got stronger.
Then Roger was gone, the man had dropped him, the cries got softer and softer as the breeze whistled over, the distant cries of a scared baby.
BANG! The man had closed the window, the cries had stopped, the breeze no longer whistled. He turned back towards Debbie, the pistol still crackling in her direction, he grinned.
“I am the Master.” He said.
Debbie couldn’t speak, tears welled up in her eyes, all she could do was stare at the window, straining her ears to try and hear the soft cry of Roger, her dear child, she would give anything to hear his cries again. The Master snapped his scarred fingers in her face, she looked up and reminded herself of his horrid appearance.
“Why are you doing this, what do you want?” She asked.
“You, specifically who you are and what you are, what you will be and soon enough, what you will never be.” The Master prodded her gently with the weapon, trying to make her come back into reality, but Debbie didn’t want to be in reality anymore, she was lost, alone and above all, very scared.
“I don’t understand.”
“No, I didn’t think you would, I’ll explain later, for the meantime could you do me the greatest of favours and step into that wardrobe over there?” The Master pointed with his, now free, hand towards something behind her, she glanced over and saw a large old fashioned wardrobe of which she did not recognise.
“How did that get here?” She looked at the wardrobe, it had a lock under the handle, and strange circular writing engraved into the wood, “that isn’t my cupboard.”
“I know, it’s mine.” He said, “Now do step into it for me.”
The presence of the gun made her move, she walked up towards the cupboard, reached out for the handle and turned it, opening up the doors and revealing the interior within.
When she did, she could have sworn she was going mad, the wardrobe did not reveal a stack of clothes racks, old shoes and moth balls as she had thought but inside seemed to be a whole different section of the house that she had no idea existed at all.
“It’s bigger on the inside!”
“Oh please silence yourself and step inside.” The Master said, getting more agitated.
She looked into the open white space, in the middle of which was some sort of computer panel with a large glass cylinder protruding out of it. It was decorated with buttons, levers and switches that all beeped and blooped - it was like she was in a sort of laboratory. The walls were decorated with blue and green hexagonal lights that lit up the entire room.
She stepped into the mouth of the wardrobe and entered the belly of the room, she placed one foot on the floor of the room, her head began to feel very tired all of a sudden. An electric shock buzzed through her mind, she looked around the room, she could hear the Master following her into the white space and closing the doors behind her with a strange bubbling noise. She shook her head and things began to refocus, she leaned up against the wall and breathed in and out rapidly as to remain conscious. When she finally had her bearings together, she had one new thought arriving.
“What is going on?”
“All will be revealing in time, it has a habit of doing that.” The Master approached the console, he began to press buttons and pull levers. The whole room began to shake, her ears were filled with the sound of the same groaning wind she had heard outside, only it was much more noisier this time.
“This isn’t a room!” She concluded.
“Getting there…”
“This is a spaceship!” Debbie was in a spaceship, she looked at the Master, he was an alien - or something, she had been abducted by an alien.
“Additionally, more of a time and spaceship, she’s a TARDIS.” The Master announced with his arms raised.
“It’s called a TARDIS?”
“It?” The Master looked at Debbie with a scowl, “It? This place is not an ‘It’, she has a name!”
“A name?”
“She is a TARDIS and TARDISes are just as alive as you or me, this one more than others, so of course she has a name.” The Master continued at the console.
“Is she like your pet?” Debbie asked, as the words left her mouth there was a sudden alarm ringing inside of her head, it thrashed against her skull and rang her ears, she lifted her hands up to cover them but to no avail the high pitched screech continued.
“Of course she isn’t my pet, she is a TARDIS, they have free will and a mind of their own, best not say that again or she might do something worse than ring your ears.” The Master said.
“I’m sorry.” She said, rubbing her ears some more, the screeching began to fade slightly.
“It’s not me you should be apologizing too.” The Master replied, he placed his hand on the console.
Debbie looked around the console room of the TARDIS, she whispered softly, the screeching fading in the distance of her mind.
“I’m sorry…” Debbie looked at the Master, “...what is her name?”
The Master thought for a moment, as if he was remembering, but in reality he was having a conversation, a very well meaning conversation about how much he wished to share with Debbie, how much did he actually want her to know during these moments. He snapped out of the gaze, sighed to himself before placing another burnt, decaying hand on the console surface.
“Her name is Lolita.”
“I’m sorry Lolita.” Debbie said, the screeching then stopped entirely, Debbie smiled to herself in relief.
“Better?” The Master asked politely.
“Yes, thank you, I feel much better.”
“Lovely.” The Master removed his cloak, hanging it around a coat stand near the entrance of the TARDIS, “Now we can begin.”
“Begin what?” Debbie said, wondering what other horrors were left to come.
“The reason you are here.”
“Why am I here?” Debbie noticed her hand was shaking, she held it with the other one but that didn’t seem to work, it only made the other one shake too.
“TARDISes aren’t like your everyday shuttle, they require a whole other means of power.” The Master explained, “Usually one would park beside a temporal rift, open up the engines and you’d gain more energy over a certain period of time - but Lolita is different.”
“Different how?”
“She’s a picky eater, always wants the best, not exactly patient enough to wait outside a rift.” The Master found himself a seat, a wooden chair he had found in some distant location in the past somewhere, he couldn’t exactly remember when it was - luckily he had found two on that occasion and offered one to Debbie, her mind was frazzled so she had no choice but to take weight off her legs and accept his offer. She sat down in the chair, it creaked as she sat in it, she sat across from the Master, never wanting to remain eye contact.
Lolita was watching them talk, wandering around inside her like tapeworms, only without the close relationship. Some girl had been brought in by her Pilot, he was a disgusting looking creature, a decaying body surrounding a truly evil soul, maybe that was why she kept him around - she liked his style, always plotting, ever scheming. He had this twinkle in his eye, or what was left of them, that suggested he was constantly aware of everything, constantly in control of every situation, it reminded Lolita of herself, so very long ago now - the name “Master” fit perfectly for her pilot. Of course that was not his real name, no his ego wouldn’t allow for him to go by it, it was way too long, way to irritating to pronounce, it bothered her very much that the Great House’s naming structure was like that - it was why she demanded to be named Lolita and not just a bunch of made up words strung together. It was orderly, it made sense for a name to be short and sweet, totally unlike herself, but all the same it made it easy to reveal to your prey in their final moments, the last thing they hear, the last thing they remember; Lolita. So short, so sweet, so perfect for their demise. Beautiful, absolutely beautiful.
Lolita had been side tracked, her thoughts had raced around her matrix in seconds, she had not missed a single moment of the tapeworm’s conversation.
“Where do I fit into all of this?” Debbie asked, finding it difficult to stay brave. The Master smiled, he knew something, well he always did, but this thing he knew was a detail he was savouring, he didn’t want to mess it up, he was waiting for the right moment.
“Lolita prefers to hunt for her food, or at least on the off day, make me do it for her - I take pride in providing her with her meals.” He said, his fingers interlocked with one another.
“What does she eat?”
“Massive temporal points that give off the same energy as a rift, only with more flavour, TARDISes can absorb matter, both inside and outside its shell,” The Master looked around the console room with a glimmer in his eyes, a look of passion and care for his Lolita, “But it’s so much easier to digest things that are already in the stomach, is it not?”
Debbie looked around Lolita, she noticed on the other side of the console room was another door, possibly leading off to a different part of the ship, she kept that mind.
“What sort of ‘temporal’ points?” Debbie had no clue what was going on in the slightest, so much had happened in the past hour, retreating back to her ‘keep him talking’ plan, she might survive this long enough to escape.
“Objects, places, events,” The Master said, “even people in the correct circumstances.”
“She eats people?” Debbie was beginning to get worried, the Master just smiled, now was the moment.
“Only in the most perfect of circumstances, you are Debra McHanon, are you not?” The Master sat up from his chair, approaching the console once more and looking into the scanner, “You’re a perfect candidate.”
“She’s going to eat me?” Debbie was keeping her gaze locked on that other door, ready to bolt when needed.
“Well ‘eat’ is not exactly true but it’s as close to the experience as you can get really, your matter will be absorbed into the interior’s atmosphere and drained into the engines.” He smiled again, showing his horrid set of teeth.
“Why me?” Debbie got up from her chair, slowly going around the hexagon console to face the Master from it’s opposite side, just a few meters away from the door.
“You are Debra McHanon, you have power, you have authority, you have influence,” The Master showed her the scanner feed, “Founder of the McHanon corporation, rich in the world of British politics and campaigning to be Prime Minister - which doesn’t look that difficult to do but all the same, time has its eyes on you, and Lolita noticed it.”
“I’m not that important, I help my planet the best I can, you don’t have to do this!”
“You helped your planet and now the world has put you under a spotlight, you fall into the perfect area of just important enough for the engines to power up, but not important enough for the whole web of time to completely collapse - the perfect candidate, as I said,” The Master made his way around the console, creeping closer to Debbie, “are you ready?”
Debbie couldn’t take it any more, she bolted towards the door - as she approached it opened up for her immediately, it opened up to a long corridor that bent and snapped into different directions, like a maze. Debbie needed to get away, she kept running.
Why run? Lolita thought about the concept of running constantly, her sister often thought the same, though she mostly saw it as a positive thing.
“Typical.” Lolita said to herself, her sister’s pilot was a bad influence on her, always running about and having the audacity to meddle with the web of time just to save people, a pointless endeavour. Debbie ran, yet no matter how far she ran, or how quickly she ran, she would always find herself surrounded by Lolita at every turn. Lolita couldn’t be escaped from, Debbie must have known this surely?
Yet she still ran, turning corners whenever she could in order to escape the Master’s wrath, yet the Master was not putting effort into the chase, wherever he walked he knew Lolita would place him right where he needed to be.
“Do try to quicken the pace Lolita, let’s get this over and done with.” The Master whispered.
“Fine.” Lolita whispered back, although she did enjoy playing with her food she knew she had to eat sooner or later, none of which had any bother in her mind but all the same she was getting quite hungry.
Debbie ran around the corner and stopped, the Master was waiting with his arms at his sides and a smirk stretched across his rotten face.
“So glad you could join us for dinner, my dear.”
“Get away from me.”
“You can’t run from this,” The Master took a step forward, Debbie took one step back, “very well, Lolita...tuck in.”
The dinner bell had been rung, Lolita began her feast, digging into the flesh of Debra McHanon. The first thing Debbie felt was that her memories were disappearing, she thought really hard about the past few hours only to realise she had no idea how she had gotten here, she had no idea where she was, what was happening and had no idea who this grotesque looking figure was, she let out an ear piercing screech at the sight of him.
As her memories disappeared, she forgot all about Roger, Sam, Hannah and everyone else, the business talk vanished into thin air, her company, her school, her hometown, her birthday, everything that Debbie had lived was gone from her mind. She tried to push out words but nothing would come out, she could have sworn she knew how to speak but the only sounds she could produce were groans and screams of anguish and pain - she reached out into the air as he fell to the ground, her motor functions stopping her from escaping the presence of the Master and Lolita.
As she waved her arms in the air, she noticed the next thing on the menu; the skin on her fingers were peeling off, the flesh around her knuckles and fingernails were being lifted off her bones and were evaporating into the atmosphere. This carried on down towards her hands, and towards her arms - the pain of her flesh bubbling with heat and becoming gaseous, turning into the very air she was breathing, soon not even that, her lungs were beginning to shut down.
She gasped out to breathe, choking and coughing, saliva spewed out of her mouth as she desperately tried to grasp onto some oxygen but nothing would work. Her flesh was almost completely off now, the pain was immense, that’s all she could feel, pain, pain, pain, pain.
She laid on the floor, facing the corridor ceiling of Lolita. She tried to blink but couldn’t any more - her eyelids had evaporated too, her eyes had begun to dry up, here eyes bubbled up with tears but sadly it wasn’t enough - her world went dark, she couldn’t see a single thing, her ears no longer letting in any sound either. As she died, as her entire being was being soaked up into being a power source of Lolita, the only word that bounced around her head, her one memory was a name, she thought it was a name, or a title, whatever it was, whatever it may be, the word frightened her - it was a short word, a sweet word, this was a moment Lolita would have been proud of.
Debbie needed to get the word out, she fought hard to speak through gasps of air, through deafness and blindness, she did not know what the word meant but she needed to let it out, she just needed to. So, in her final moments, written on the temporal gravestone of Debra McHanon’s life, the last word she would ever speak into the universe...
“Master.”
Lolita gobbled her up, the only thing left was an empty corridor of which the Master now stood alone in. Looking around himself, he made his way back towards the console room - he leant over the controls and pressed a button which allowed music to play, classical of course, the sounds of the Victorian period - a moment in time that both he and Lolita quite liked the style of. Lolita watched the Master as he wandered around the console room and hummed the tune to himself, tapping the controls in beat with the rhythm.
The TARDIS floated in the void of space, The Master and Lolita, all alone, together as usual.
The End.