[There was a howl. A chilling painful cry for help. It did not come from a screaming woman in need or a tormented soul. No, it came from him. Himself. Sam Tyler. 

Of course, it was never his  scream. It was never his voice. It was always that other one. The Master. The Master’s screams for help. The Master’s voice controlling, damning, and lying. And he was just….himself. To be vague.  And since he was ‘himself’ he would follow after that scream. It sounded painful and  starving. For power? Blood? Or just attention? Sam did not know. What he did know was he was walking into a minefield. Of accusations and prejudice.    

But, even if it was the Master, he still needed help.  No matter how  many Masters threaten him or had awaken relationships with him. No matter the mixed feelings of fear, pity and distaste he had. He still had to help him.]

"Hello?"

[The Master stared up at his own likeness in confusion, every muscle still tense, half in pain and half ready for a fight. Actually, the slight rush of adrenaline made the phasing a slight bit more bearable-- and he forced himself up onto his feet.]

"Oh, marvelous, I've gone properly insane, haven't I."

[It wasn't even a question, just a confused statement as he looked over the other man. Not exactly the same, but a damn near thing.]

"Hallucinating myself? Even I'm not that narcissistic. Who the fuck are you?"

"Only 98%? I'm handling my job poorly then."

[An unconcerned smirk flits over his face as he turns towards the anon.]