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Description
A suave yet lupine form stood, feet apart as he held the handrail of his balcony. His eyes glittered as they surveyed the blinking neon of the city that challenged and even eclipsed that of the moon that nevertheless did not try to hide in shame behind the thin cloud-cover.
All life existed down there, far below his penthouse at the White Plaza. There were jubilant winners, frustrated losers (at games or life, or games of life) and potential suicides.
He was, without doubt the greatest intelligence on this world but something had happened tonight, something that disturbed him. Somewhere a parrot sqawked;
"Awk, Pieces of eight!"-Destroying his apocalyptic mood almost entirely.
"Who are you, Sarah Jane Smith?" He asked the city, recieving no reply. The girl seemed to have recognised him. No, not quite but she certainly knew an uncomfortable amount. If only he had not been interrupted! She was certainly a native of this planet, no Time Agent, member of The Celestial Intervention Agency or Assassin but she knew of Gallifreyan anatomy-how? He almost spat his assumption;
"The Doctor!"
He saw no reason to leave, Unit couldn't have found him. If she was attached to them, even under that blunderer Lethbridge-Stewart, she would never have approached him in the way she did!
"I'm sorry," she'd said, "...I thought you were someone I knew a long time ago-an old friend."
Yes, that was it, she'd mistaken him for the Doctor (he allowed himself a snear of distaste at this thought). The only explanation was that she'd heard his Tardis materialise!
"Everywere I turn, every plan I make he corrupts-even if not present!"
"Aawwwk! Who's a pretty boy, then?"
He raised his eyes to the heavens and cursed silently. He'd always been a loner, never needing the company of lesser beings unlike his arch-enemy. Now however, he'd decided to 'give it a go' for a change but Ben Gunn was turning into an even greater irritation than Unit!
He had to admit there was something about this 'Sarah' though, something he appreciated. She was bright and tenacious and might be worth having around the Tardis! Those qualities of hers would vanish under his control though, a shame.
Unconciously, he began to whistle 'She's only a bird in a Gilded Cage' and turned to walk back into his suite, pausing to look out over this city that seemed to tally with his own personal philosophy. He was better than all of them down there, he was superior to all on this pitiful world! He could be master of all he beheld, he WAS master of all he beheld;
"Indeed." He vouched as he swept back into his room like a great, grey bird of prey.

The sun rose on Las Vegas and beamed-down on rich and poor alike, bearing no prejudice. It glared at steel and glass palaces and the lesser accomodations of the town's workforce. Isolated patches of water lingered for a few minutes under the orb's merciless gaze, the residue of attempts made to irrigate the flower-bedecked hotel drives and hanging baskets whose purpose was to give the town's visitors the impression that they were anywhere but a profit-pursuing town built in a desert.
At 5AM traffic moved along its streets. This town rose early as did the occupant of The White Plaza's Penthouse Suite. In truth, he needed little sleep but curiously found himself taking on some of their habits whilst here. He strode out again onto his balcony and took a deep breath. Like a medieval King or Emperor he felt both his hearts swell with the thought of the coming battle and victory!
Of course, there was the possibility of there being a 'Fly in the Ointment', as it were-a petite, brunette fly. Yes, it was nothing to worry about really but there could be the vaguest possibility that she might use one of those well-turned ankles to put her foot in it for him. Or could she, what did she really know? She only suspected at most. Annoying that she'd provoked a reaction from him, though;
"Who are you, Sarah Jane Smith?" Of course, he already knew the answer-some friend of the Doctor's obviously but the Doctor always chose his friends wisely, if having friends could be considered to be wise at all...
Even that silly-seeming Jo had resisted his attempts to control her. Irritating, that. Could 'Miss Smith' really upset his plans? As the saying went;
"She's only human..." His eyes strayed to his well-manicured fingernails as he lifted his gloves off his couch arm, "I've got you, " he crooned, "...under my skin-" Yes, maybe he ought to take some precautions.
"Aawwwk!"

At 7AM the door of the suite opened and a breakfast of lightly-grilled kippers was delivered plus a complimentary TV Guide. After flicking through it he cast it onto the couch with disdain;
"Really, it's hardly the Radio Times!" He declared as he made to leave, looking around the room to check everything was set, just in case...
He walked to the door, closing it with extreme care then opened it again with the same defference and picked-up the VCR hand-set. His hand flew over the keyboard in a blur.
On his way out he grabbed a DO NOT DISTURB sign from it's hook, smirking. He hung it on the outside of his door, admiring his handiwork like a true artist;
"Irresistable!" He congratulated himself and made for the elevator.

TO BE CONTINUED

Description
A suave yet lupine form stood, feet apart as he held the handrail of his balcony. His eyes glittered as they surveyed the blinking neon of the city that challenged and even eclipsed that of the moon that nevertheless did not try to hide in shame behind the thin cloud-cover.
All life existed down there, far below his penthouse at the White Plaza. There were jubilant winners, frustrated losers (at games or life, or games of life) and potential suicides.
He was, without doubt the greatest intelligence on this world but something had happened tonight, something that disturbed him. Somewhere a parrot sqawked;
"Awk, Pieces of eight!"-Destroying his apocalyptic mood almost entirely.
"Who are you, Sarah Jane Smith?" He asked the city, recieving no reply. The girl seemed to have recognised him. No, not quite but she certainly knew an uncomfortable amount. If only he had not been interrupted! She was certainly a native of this planet, no Time Agent, member of The Celestial Intervention Agency or Assassin but she knew of Gallifreyan anatomy-how? He almost spat his assumption;
"The Doctor!"
He saw no reason to leave, Unit couldn't have found him. If she was attached to them, even under that blunderer Lethbridge-Stewart, she would never have approached him in the way she did!
"I'm sorry," she'd said, "...I thought you were someone I knew a long time ago-an old friend."
Yes, that was it, she'd mistaken him for the Doctor (he allowed himself a snear of distaste at this thought). The only explanation was that she'd heard his Tardis materialise!
"Everywere I turn, every plan I make he corrupts-even if not present!"
"Aawwwk! Who's a pretty boy, then?"
He raised his eyes to the heavens and cursed silently. He'd always been a loner, never needing the company of lesser beings unlike his arch-enemy. Now however, he'd decided to 'give it a go' for a change but Ben Gunn was turning into an even greater irritation than Unit!
He had to admit there was something about this 'Sarah' though, something he appreciated. She was bright and tenacious and might be worth having around the Tardis! Those qualities of hers would vanish under his control though, a shame.
Unconciously, he began to whistle 'She's only a bird in a Gilded Cage' and turned to walk back into his suite, pausing to look out over this city that seemed to tally with his own personal philosophy. He was better than all of them down there, he was superior to all on this pitiful world! He could be master of all he beheld, he WAS master of all he beheld;
"Indeed." He vouched as he swept back into his room like a great, grey bird of prey.

The sun rose on Las Vegas and beamed-down on rich and poor alike, bearing no prejudice. It glared at steel and glass palaces and the lesser accomodations of the town's workforce. Isolated patches of water lingered for a few minutes under the orb's merciless gaze, the residue of attempts made to irrigate the flower-bedecked hotel drives and hanging baskets whose purpose was to give the town's visitors the impression that they were anywhere but a profit-pursuing town built in a desert.
At 5AM traffic moved along its streets. This town rose early as did the occupant of The White Plaza's Penthouse Suite. In truth, he needed little sleep but curiously found himself taking on some of their habits whilst here. He strode out again onto his balcony and took a deep breath. Like a medieval King or Emperor he felt both his hearts swell with the thought of the coming battle and victory!
Of course, there was the possibility of there being a 'Fly in the Ointment', as it were-a petite, brunette fly. Yes, it was nothing to worry about really but there could be the vaguest possibility that she might use one of those well-turned ankles to put her foot in it for him. Or could she, what did she really know? She only suspected at most. Annoying that she'd provoked a reaction from him, though;
"Who are you, Sarah Jane Smith?" Of course, he already knew the answer-some friend of the Doctor's obviously but the Doctor always chose his friends wisely, if having friends could be considered to be wise at all...
Even that silly-seeming Jo had resisted his attempts to control her. Irritating, that. Could 'Miss Smith' really upset his plans? As the saying went;
"She's only human..." His eyes strayed to his well-manicured fingernails as he lifted his gloves off his couch arm, "I've got you, " he crooned, "...under my skin-" Yes, maybe he ought to take some precautions.
"Aawwwk!"

At 7AM the door of the suite opened and a breakfast of lightly-grilled kippers was delivered plus a complimentary TV Guide. After flicking through it he cast it onto the couch with disdain;
"Really, it's hardly the Radio Times!" He declared as he made to leave, looking around the room to check everything was set, just in case...
He walked to the door, closing it with extreme care then opened it again with the same defference and picked-up the VCR hand-set. His hand flew over the keyboard in a blur.
On his way out he grabbed a DO NOT DISTURB sign from it's hook, smirking. He hung it on the outside of his door, admiring his handiwork like a true artist;
"Irresistable!" He congratulated himself and made for the elevator.

TO BE CONTINUED