Unpredictably, the first thing the Master heard was a very faint drumming, lulling him slowly back into consciousness and away from the comfortable dark he'd been enjoying for the past few days. His head was absolutely killing him, among other things, and his tired brain was trying desperately to work out everything it could before his eyes opened. Perhaps it wanted to prepare him for the shock of what he was going to see. Like the fact that despite his best efforts, he wasn't dead.

And all around him was the gentle hum of this decrypted old rust box of a TARDIS.

The Master jerked as his mind slowly woke up, hands straining against his cuffs. What was happening? This didn't make any sense. He was shot, he died. He definitely one hundred percent remembered dying. And he certainly didn't feel the very familiar pain of a gun shot wound when he was moving.

Hissing, the Master yanked harder against the cuffs, trying to force his hand through the loops. This was far from ideal.