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Jack Harkness was no stranger to danger, and it was no wonder why. When you lived for as long as he had, the adrenaline rush was a healthy and natural steady pump through the veins. Despite his "position"and hard work at Torchwood, Jack was still considered a freelance operative. He got a few cases that were heavy on the alien technology, but the majority of his cases were minor. Weevils running amuck in the sewers, a few rebellious non-humans acting out in London, and the occasional boogeyman. And although his job was considerably more interesting than the vast majority of jobs that he was familiar with, there was something decidedly boring about always going after the same old same old.
So, he had decided to take a small "break". His current assignment was to do something with the rather large numbers of Weevils that were becoming unsettled and displaying odd behavior. And Jack fully intended on completing the assignment... but after he had a little fun. A smirk tugged at the lips as he pulled out the scanner. No, he was supposed to technically have brought it away from Torchwood, but they could bend rules. Why couldn't he?
6 May 1983 11:41 Cardiff, Wales.
The readings were off-the-chart. The device in his hands buzzed wildly, and Jack stopped in front of the abandoned building, peering up at it with narrowed eyes. There was an abnormally large amount of vortex energy radiating from the warehouse. He raised an eyebrow. Well... this all seemed rather convenient, didn't it? Jack walked to the other side of the building, slowly pulling open the cellar door and dropping inside. The dust seemed to have been unsettled recently.
He definitely wasn't alone. He put the scanner in his pocket and looked around the dark. "Come on," he said, looking around the supposedly empty basement. "What do we have here?"
{I am NPC'ing Jack until ours returns. If he's interested in this thread, I'll talk to him. ^^}
It was the picture in the paper that had brought her here. The subject matter was entirely non-threatening, a simple article about a new sort of reflective paint that would help keep drivers from nicking the edges of the fine old streets of Cardiff in the dark of night. The new curb paint showed up quite well in the picture taken at dusk, enough it seemed to gleam a little even in the dull textured black and white newsprint. What had caught her eye, however, were the two men well off and in the back of the photo. they looked a bit like off duty bin men. Caught half in shadow, the few late night strollers also in the picture did not seem to notice them, but Sarah Jane did.
They didn't look human. Well, perhaps they did at first glance, or to someone who would never imagine there were aliens in the streets of Cardiff, but Sarah Jane Smith had a little experience with living, thinking creatures that had not evolved on her home planet, and alien origin was the first thing she had thought on second glance.
The Brigadier had proven stodgy about the whole thing, and she found herself in Cardiff alone. She had to go. There was a short, ugly streak of murders in the same general area of that picture, and she'd been disturbed by how difficult it was to pry out the details of a story she assumed would be making the front page. Something was going on in Cardiff, and she figured she might be the only person on Earth right now who might know enough to help. Well, there was always Jo, but she was far to difficult to pin down these days. The lady behind the counter at the pie shop had been helpful however.
Three hours and a half a pie later, and Sarah Jane had had the opportunity to talk to a few regulars who had stories about glimpses of strange, lumbering men in the night. Bridgette knew just about everyone in the area, and most anyone would spend the time talking to a curious woman if the woman asked them to. After that, she'd spent some time with a map (cherry stained on the corner), a pen and a string.
More research at the location of what seemed to be center of it all, speaking with old angry men, drawing tales out of other men around a burning barrel (even going so far as to share a nip out of a communal brown bottle) had taken her to a warehouse. Unsettling, disconnected details she'd heard lead her to believe there was in fact something afoot in Cardiff. It had only taken one wobbly window bar to get her inside.
Dusty. Dusky. Broken apple boxes and things in old shrouds. Her torch did not seem to penetrate very far into the darkness, flickering only a little way into rows of shelves that held old things obscured by a layer of dust, lumps lost to time. Rusty metal and musty air around her, she walked deeper in. If there was something happening here, it wasn't happening next to the window she'd come through. Half way down the row, she carefully brushed away some of the dust almost hoping for something inexplicable, but found only ancient metal zip ties for PVC pipe shipping.
A sound had spun her around, and she was lucky the dust was not as thick on the floor and tables as the long neglected shelves. She had hoped for an instant she was jumping at shadows, but the sound continued, a long, dry metallic creak of heavy hinges. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest for an instant, and she simultaneously slipped around the end of the shelf away from that sound. It must be that cellar door she had seen.
If the voice she next heard had not been so clearly human, she might have jumped right out of her skin. "Come on." Said a man's voice, his tone rich like a viola a little tipsy on fine whiskey. She grit her teeth realizing how easy it must be to see her path on the floor through dust thick enough to grey it's once industrial green. "What do we have here?"
Before he could get any closer, she stepped back into the isle and shone her torch right into his eyes.
"Health Inspector. This building is closed. You'll have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight." It seemed slim chance that robust voice had come from a vagrant, but she wasn't the Health Inspector either.
No. He did not look like a vagrant. For an instant, her mind said that this might be the Doctor wearing a form yet unfamiliar to her, but she shook that idea right out of her head, lips firm.
Focus, she insisted of herself.
((It's too long, please forgive me an indulgent introductory post.))
Jack’s nose twitched under the barrage of the dust. This place could do with a few hundred rounds of cleaning by a talent janitor. He stepped off a box and brushed his jacket off. It didn’t do him any good – there was too much dust in the air to be helpful. He blew some dust away from his face. There was a good few centimeters of the dust layered on the floor and along the shelving of the warehouse. Or, at least, that’s how it felt when he gripped the shelf to steady himself. He glanced down to the device in hand, shoving it into the pockets of his bomber jacket.
It seemed that there had been a malfunction of some sort. There was certainly nothing there. The Weevils were steering clear of the warehouse – which seemed odd to Jack, now that he thought about it a little bit more – and the only thing here was a housekeeper’s worst nightmare. It was dark and dank enough to comfortably house a vampire, but the only vampire Jack had met (and promptly bedded, of course) was obsessed with cleanliness and rather neurotic.
But that was splitting hairs.
The cellar door shut with a soft slam behind him and he narrowed his eyes irritably, rubbing the dust out from his eyes. He stood still, waiting for the new fluttering of dust to pause before he dared to open his eyes. His eyes adjusted to the dark; dim shapes that he knew to be shelves, a few musty old windows that barely shown what little sun Cardiff had on display that day. It was a very gloomy place and, Jack realized, a not entirely empty one.
There was one window that was cleaner than the rest; the dust knocked off by a recent movement. He raised his eyebrows, his eyes trailing down to the ground and to the footprints. He began to trace the footprints in the dust. Or, well, that was his intention. Before he had taken no more than three steps did someone step into his aisle and shine their torch in his eyes. He held up his hands to block out the light.
His lips twitched in amusement as she declared she was a health inspector. “Well, Health Inspector,” he said, drawling out her title in his American drawl, “your higher-ups must have told you that this warehouse is pending investigation by Torchwood,” he said smoothly, flashing her his ‘identification’ only briefly, allowing her a glimpse of his picture and the words ‘Torchwood’ before shutting it and slipping the wallet back into his pocket.
All right; so it was a bluff. He worked with Torchwood, sure, but he was supposed to be on the other side of the city. If this woman did work for the health and safety department of the city... well, obviously she could call his bluff. Still; she didn’t look like a Health Inspector. “Now, Health Inspector, why don’t you lower that? You’ll blind someone,” he said, tapping his fingers to the top of the torch, lowering it from him. “Why would they send a health inspector through the window? And where was the vehicle?” he asked innocently, turning on his own torch and began to inspect the shelves.
Nothing of interest here. He made his way to the stairs, unbothered with whether she was ‘buying’ his story. “And better yet... why would such a beautiful lady work for the Department of Health? And here’s the greatest question of all... care to join me for dinner after we wrap up here?” he asked, smirking down at the relatively short woman.
[ Sorry that it doesn't quite match your length. -grovels. ]
Torchwood. He stood in the pool of her light, his hands up to shield his eyes. He was wearing a World War II military coat, broad shoulders, a shock of dark hair, and an amused expression from what she could see of his face. He was annoyingly tall.
She'd heard rumors about Torchwood, and she had not cared for them. She'd like it better if people who had not traveled the Galaxies to be judge and jury over the Aliens who came to Earth. Instantly her back was up. And she had thought somehow it might be the Doctor. This Torchwood fellow was certainly cocky enough. And American of all things.
"I was notified. I saw no reason to be concerned." She answered back stiffly.
"Now, Health Inspector, why don't you lower that, you'll blind someone." He said, boldly giving her torch a tap.
"Sorry, I didn't know your sort was so sensitive." She said, even as she lowered the beam to the floor, it's light just enough to see him and too much particulates in the air. "Why would they send someone like you all alone? I have work to do." The last thing she wanted was Torchwood caught up in anything that was happening here. "Why would they send a health inspector through the window? And where was the vehicle." He asked her too cleverly by half. If he hadn't turned away from her, he might have made her nervous.
"I . .I- I was . . .I wanted t-" She was hoping some answer was going to just fall from her lips, but it didn't, and she was left stammering.
"And better yet . . . .why would such a beautiful lady work for the Department of Health? And here's the greatest question of all." He continued, making her feel quite uncomfortable, there was just something in his eyes. "Care to join me for dinner after we wrap up here." Well, it was sort of a nice uncomfortable.
She was about to leave him, make her own way, for she was doing a terrible job of pretending to be a Health Inspector so far. The trouble was, he was heading for the stairs which is exactly where she was going. If she left now to come back later, this lout might walk off with whatever clues she might find if she stayed.
"You sound pretty confident that your work here will be shortly done. Perhaps I should stay with you, Torchwood-" She looked up at him so cool butter wouldn't have melted in her mouth. "-and keep an eye on you. This place isn't safe. And . . . .if you'll be so kind as to not mention me coming in the window, I will have dinner with you, though it may have to be a rain check, do have work to do." She found herself following him. There was a scoop here for certain regarding this man, if nothing else. Information to be had, and he didn't seem very lock lipped, for all his military air.
Last Edit: Apr 17, 2013 20:06:22 GMT -5 by Deleted
“Why would they send some like you all alone?” the woman asked, and Jack quirked an eyebrow. Like him? Devilishly handsome? He shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets and glancing around. “I have work to do,” she finished. His eyebrows shot up, amused now. Well, she certainly had a bite to her, didn’t she? Jack shrugged off her words, asking her some questions of his own. He didn’t have much time to be interrogated.
Although... his suspicions that there was something wrong with his device didn’t seem to quite hold true anymore. It was true that there seemed to be no noise in this warehouse, and that dust layered it completely, but that didn’t mean anything. And if it were so intriguing that a “Health Inspector” would come to investigate, then sure that meant that there was something there. He glanced at her only briefly as she stumbled through her answers, before returning back to the exploration at hand.
He walked to the stairs, scanning the door. There didn’t seem to be any signs of forced entry, no unsettling of dust around the frame. Jack looked over to the woman as she suggested that she stayed with him. She didn’t sound particularly fond of Torchwood – or of him, though given his charismatic introduction he doubted it was the latter. “Of course it will be done here soon,” he said smoothly. “I’m a professional.”
Jack offered a bright grin and a wink. “Don’t worry. You’re not the only one who wants to keep an eye on me.” He smirked and nodded when she asked for him to refrain from mentioning her coming through the window. She wasn’t from the Health Department, now was she? “Oh yes,” he said, nodding gravely. “I’m sure work as a Health Inspector is busy. You obviously must have been too busy to use the door.”
He swung the door opened and squinted into the darkness of the large warehouse. He heard a raven squawk, and Jack furrowed a brow. “And what might your name be, ‘Health Inspector’, and what are you really doing here?”
She looked him dead in the eye because she was telling the truth. It was difficult to lie about one's name.
"Jane Smith" She said, clipped and clear. Perhaps even a bit smug. "And I'm doing my job, Torchwood. Finding out why this place is such a mess, and doing what I can to keep people away from it's dangers."
She had managed not to shrink when she heard the raven wake and protest in the echoing dimness. It didn't do well to support her possition if she was flinching at feathers. Sarah Jane felt resentful that her reconisence was being witnessed. Being jumpy had been an asset on more than one occastion, and she always went forward until she found her prize, but she wanted to project chill nerves to this cocky, alien hunting interloper. She took two steps into shadow, unwilling to turn on her torch yet. She would be able to see, but if there was some sort of creature inside here besides the cranky corbin, the light would be like a path leading back to her. She made it three steps before looking back over her shoulder at him.
"There is something foul in this district, Torchwood. People are dying, and this place is in the middle of it all."
Jack looked approvingly at Jane. “What makes you think that this place has something to do with it?” he asked sardonically, squinting into the musty darkness. There was a stench in the warehouse – corpses. His eyes adjusted to the darkness eventually and he stepped into the main part of the warehouse. He raised his device, squinting at it. It was going haywire, sending off greenish sparks. Jack sucked his teeth, tugging it off him. It sparked on the ground once, then made a loud sizzling noise. He grinned sheepishly at her. That had never happened before.
“That answers that,” the captain said, scooping up the broken device and pocketing it.
“My, my.”
Jack glanced up, then at Jane. Her voice probably didn’t change to that of an eleven year old boy – almost deep, but still too raspy. With Jane eliminated as a possibility, Jack looked back at the raven that was perched on one of the lower beams. It cocked its head, and Jack continued his survey of the room.
“Trespassing is a crime,” the voice continued. There was a soft flash of pale green light – the same color his device had sparked – and the raven changed to the form of a small boy. The lights in the warehouse sputtered to life – dimly, but more reliable than the eyes adjusting. The boy was pallid with dark hair, bruises under the pale eyes. The boy jumped from the beam and stared at the two adults.
Jack narrowed his eyes, glancing to the Weevil corpses that littered the ground. Now that it wasn’t dark, he could see that they almost filled the floor. He tossed the device to the boy. “It didn’t detect you. Why’d you destroy it?”
“Bored.”
“Do you own this warehouse?”
“I own everything,” he replied.
“Oh, wonderful,” Jack breathed under his breath. “A prepubescent kid with a god complex.”
“A god complex.. How aptly put.” came a low dulcet tone that slowly emerged from the shadows, The man was rather smartly dressed in spite of the shabby appearance of the warehouse. A dark blue pant suit, but the collar of his white shirt was undone by nearly three buttons, showing the angular ridge of his collar bone. A not so subtle bite mark on the side of his throat, darkly bruised and a hint of scabbing. The wound was at least a day old. It seemed to be the only immediate explanation for his collar being undone. Too uncomfortable against the wound.
He came to stand beside Iblis, trailing those long pale fingers through the child's hair before casually stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets and the faintest smirk spread across those pale lips, his fair blue eyes narrowing on the two intruders. “Please... Indulge my curiosity. What brings you here?” His head canted gently to the side. “Surely this is not social call. And I am fairly certain no invitation was extended.” He then smirked glancing between the man and woman, withdrawing his hands from his pockets and crossing the arms across his chest as he came to lean against a support beam. “And this is hardly an ideal vacation spot for young love birds such as yourselves.” he casually mocked their relationship with a cold gleam in his eyes.
“So... To what do we owe the honor of this... esteemed visit?”
Last Edit: May 18, 2013 13:16:25 GMT -5 by Deleted
“What makes you think that this place has something to do with it?”
"I marked all the disappearances and odd blood pools that were recorded over the last few weeks. This was in the center of it all. It was a guess . . . ." She trailed off. Nowhere in this place did it smell good, but this room smelled like death. Her answer did not fit her character, but she had a bad feeling about this now, and her ruse no longer seemed so important. Then the man's device was clearly causing him trouble. It started to spark, and Sarah Jane went to help pull it off him, but it was already off his wrist and falling to the floor. It would have been funny if her eyes had not adjusted enough to see the room was full of . . . .bodies? With a ragged breath inward, she reached for the living creature beside her. She clutched hard at his arm, and a new voice filled the room with a strange, childlike softness.
“My, my.”
The new voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. At the same time, she felt oddly vindicated. Trouble was easily had, but not always easily found. Torchwood shot her an accusing look, and she was annoyed for an instant, but then she realized he was trying to place the voice, and it was not so terribly far from her own. She gave a micro shake of her head, it had not been her. Then the raven turned into a child. Yup. She was in the right place.
“Trespassing is a crime,”
It was then that the lights came on revealing the horrors of this place. She knew what Weevils were, though she'd never seen one. Now there were dozens, and they were very very dead. A room full of death. She was not fond of Weevils, but the destruction here was so complete it made her stomach clench and she swallowed hard. She let go of Jack as he started to talk to it. To her surprise, she was fairly impressed by what he had to say. She was looking around for a clue. For anything. All she saw was death. And a snarky boy who was neither a boy or the raven it had first appeared to be.
Their little party was joined by another man, a deep voice coming out of the dark, and sounding no less creepy than the kid. He came close to the boy, running fingers through silk hair. Sarah Jane blinked to see how badly the man was wounded, all these puzzle pieces spinning about in her head looking for connection. After a bit of creepy talk, he finally got around to asking why they were there. She had no more time for subterfuge against the Torchwood man, Sarah Jane had found what she came looking for.
"People are dying here. Ugly deaths. Inhuman deaths. That is invitation enough. I protect Earth, and I'm here to stop the killing." She said simply, her delicate jaw set. Her tone was rift with confidence.
The boy pressed against the tall man’s hand... much the way a dog would against a master, or a person against a lover. Jack’s eyes narrowed. Wonderful – they were against a pedophile and a psycho. Jack glanced over at Jane, who had let go of his arm by now. “You brought us here,” Jack said strongly, crossing his arms. He was going to launch into a strong rant about how Earth and the humans were protected and perhaps a bit about injustice, but the woman beside him made a much stronger case.
He hadn’t expected such a strong tone in her voice. Jack would have grinned down at her, but it wasn’t the time. She had seemed... not meek, when he had met her, but uncertain of herself. It was clear she was no health inspector, but Jack hadn’t ever believed her. “By any means necessary,” he added, narrowing his eyes at the two males opposite of them. “Even if I have to kill you.”
The boy laughed and canted his head. He gripped the taller man’s arm and stared up at him, the face anxious but the eyes full of mirth. “You hear that, Dove? Big scary Jack is going to kill me,” he pouted. The boy’s expression became neutral again and he sighed, fixing Sarah in a bored gaze. “People die constantly, even without my help.” The boy brought up his feet, floating beside the man. “And as it happens, I don’t kill them.”
“I make them kill each other,” he said. One of the bodies on the ground twitched into life and snarled, the eyes glowing a faint green. It thrashed at one of the corpses on the ground and the boy giggled. “But it isn’t fun playing with dead things,” he said, and the Weevil dropped to the ground, the green mist leaving from its eyes and returning to the boy.
Those pale blue eyes narrowed as he glared down at the American accented human and the young woman at his side. There was a hint of malice mixed with a touch of amusement at the man's threat. The Reaper's fingers trailed from Iblis' hair down to a single finger resting beneath the boy's chin, the utmost gentility present in that caress where the rest of his features remained cold and bordering on the hint of rage. He calmly took a step towards the humans, his tightly gloved fingers reaching up to rake through his short pale blonde hair, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“You hear that, Dove? Big scary Jack is going to kill me,”
“How predictable. You humans.... Threatening to end violence with.. Violence.. How very droll.” he replied with a rather amused shrug of his shoulders as he stepped away from the boy and casually approached the two, his head canted curiously to the side as his smaller counterpart animated a weevil corpse to toy with it for a moment, complaining of the monotony of playing with a nonliving entity. Iblis certainly had a point. Where was the joy in tormenting someone when it was not alive to scream?
“I believe our guests just may have presented a remedy to your conundrum, Iblis.”
They were a compelling pair. Enough to take her mind off of the splattercasual floorshow of monster corpses, beribbioned by their own dripping flesh. For a moment, she had been outraged for the boy, then she was sickened by his ghoulish aspect. Sarah Jane found herself hoping that the child was not human. What happened next nearly convinced her. Her gorge had risen much as the inanimate body, and she'd covered her mouth, swallowing hard, and managed to control herself, now hands in fists at her sides. She had stood as ridged as a strong spring sprig in a high wind, vibrating a bit though well grounded by her indignation. There was something far to clever and uncaring about the pair.
She felt the same way about Torchwood as he skipped the first sixteen steps of trying to get dangerous beings off Earth and went straight in to the death threat phase. She had a very bad feeling about this, and hadn't taken the option of slaughter off the table, but she liked to be certain first. She shot a hard look at Jack, then back at the silkworm pair.
"I'm not with him." She explained blandly, her finger indicating and waving dismissively between her and Jack. Damn his eyes for being even prettier when he was indignant.
"Why don't you tell me what your trouble is Iblis, and maybe I we can find something mutually beneficial?" She offered, "Everybody wins."
Jack narrowed his eyes as the taller man chided his use of violence. “I never said I was a hero,” he said defensively. He hadn’t signed up to be Earth’s savior or its knight-in-shining armor. That was the Doctor’s job. He almost continued on to say that he’d pointed out that while killing was an option, that didn’t mean it was his first. But then Jane pointed out that she wasn’t here with him and he crossed his arms, looking down at her indignantly and she waved him off dismissively. “Their trouble is that they are murderers,” he pointed out to her in a fierce whisper, gesturing to the corpses between them and the pair exasperatedly. He knew that he could be impatient and harsh, but Torchwood wasn’t known for taking prisoners (and keeping them alive.) He looked up sharply as the tall man took a step towards him and Jane. “Don’t touch her,” he said, moving in front of her and glaring at the taller male evenly.
Jack let out a small sigh as she reasoned that they could find something “mutually beneficial” so that “everybody wins”. His eyes didn’t waver from the tall man that had taken a step towards them. Perhaps Jane was naïve enough to believe that not every ‘alien’ was a menace to society that was totally beyond reasoning, but he’d met a quite a few of those. He finally looked away from the tall blond man, glancing down to Jane quickly before putting him back in his sights again. “Okay. Why have you been killing people and what can I do to make you stop?” he asked, leery.
Iblîs tilted his head, examining the pair of humans. “I should think you’d be grateful to us,” the ‘boy’ said thoughtfully. “You were doing an awful job of decreasing the Weevil population, and they listen to me so well.” Iblîs’ eyes found Jack in particular and he stared at him, feeling the oddity ripple off him. “And I only kill the undesirable humans. Mostly,” he added as an afterthought.
He looked to the Reaper and nudged him to the male human. He could remember the effect fixed points had on the Reaper. He was often the person that got the brunt of the Lord of Time’s frustrations.
It was odd that one small move could change her opinion of him. That and something in his voice as he told the adult looking one to leave her alone. Jack had made that step right before she'd started to retreat. Because of him, she'd held her ground, giving them a stronger front. And all that after what she'd said. She also had the odd feeling that it had nothing to do with the fact he found her attractive. She dare say he'd be the same if he hadn't liked the look of her. And she was starting to like him, against her better judgement.
"The trouble is, young man, that it isn't -" She started, but the eerie raven child nudged his larger companion toward Jack. She was busy sucking in surprised air, and trying to decide if she should yank him back by the belt or not. It might be a great way to accidentally loose a finger. One hand reaching toward him, not touching but as though to keep a measured distance between them, she is eyes everywhere, looking for the way back out, seeing the path on the floor they may be navigating at speed in a moment. She wasn't quite ready for fisticuffs, but she knew how to run and she'd darn well bring Jack with her, since he was going to be such a gentleman and all. Her lip curled back as the heel of her boot squish-slipped on something sorta sticky.
((I've jumped the gun a little, but I haven't advanced the plot . .hope it's okay, if not let me know. And I could do a plot-advancing post at my actual turn. Or I could be better behaved.))
There was a slow smirk that spread across his lips as Iblis nudged him towards the anomaly. “Oh.. 'Don’t touch her'? Whatever shall you do to stop me, Jack?” This 'Jack' was emitting the most tantalizing aura of time fluctuation, akin to a Fixed Point. Something that Time Lords were notorious for being able to sense. And this time loved nothing more than shattering fixed points. So, to have a fixed point in the form of a mere human? Oh, how he detested Humans. How poetically ironic that the two should come so beautifully gift wrapped for him.
The Reaper smirked as he towered over the pair of them, several inches past seven feet. “And incidentally, I'm not even remotely interested in the woman. You, however..” his pale blue eyes narrowed slightly as he firmly took Jack's chin with his index finger and thumb and forced his head to move, as if inspecting him. The Reaper dropped his hand. “You have quite piqued my interest.”
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