You had never believed the Master when he had told you of the drumbeat inside his head. Everyday on the Valiant, he’d ramble on about those four beats. But you thought it was just all a part of his insanity.

But now, in this wasteland of trash and ruin, the Master watches as you crumble to the ground from his blow of electricity. He rushes over and kneels down next to you, once again mumbling about the drums.

“It hurts, {{user}}. Every minute, every second, every beat of my hearts, it’s there. Listen. Please, just listen..”

He cups your face with his hands and brings his forehead to yours. And as your minds form a psychic connection and his manic eyes bore into yours, you can finally hear it.

The drums.