Evil Cookies


The Master's latest plan seemed genius. He'd baked cookies—evil cookies—and demanded his subjects enjoy them.

"So. Care to guess the secret ingredient?"

"Mmphle," the Doctor replied. Jack said nothing, but kept stubbornly chewing.

"Here's a hint. Did you know that if you cut off your freaky friend's arm, it really does grow back?"

The Doctor squinted at his cookie, looking for what bits were Jack. How disappointing. Jack? Jack licked crumbs off his fingers and smirked right back. Of all the insolence—

"Hey, I taste kinda good! What do you think, Doctor, was it like you always dreamed?"


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