The world of dreams and nightmares had an uncomfortable effect on the Master that he loathed nearly as much as the drums. It was the place he had banished his conscience to, to avoid listening to it in his waking hours. Now faced with the very real, very bloody series of memories of his time on the Valiant and how uselessly futile the entire year had been, he grimaced. It wasn't just the fact that the year never happened. It was that, through all of it, the rise to power, the death, the destruction, even the screaming, the drums had never stopped. The distractions had been welcome, but had done nothing to cease the noise in his head. The sound he had decided was a call to war.

"I have no use for your little team's information. There is nothing here I did not already know." He glanced up at Jack's anger filled eyes before looking away, unable to face the reminders. Yes. This was clearly a dream. If it had been real life, his words would have resulted in almost certain death, but here in the world of nightmares he was forced to face the consequences of his choices. It wasn't fair. Maybe if Jack shot him, he could wake up and be done with it.

"If you want me dead, what are you waiting for? Do it already." He closed his eyes, listening to the drumming, waiting for the shot to come. "