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fandomweekly2026-01-18 08:41 pm
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2026-01-18 08:41 pm
Entry tags:
[#287] NOWHERE IS SAFE (TORCHWOOD)
Theme Prompt: #287 - Hot water
Title: Nowhere is safe
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG. Pre-canon.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Jack’s mission has gone awry and now he’s in big trouble.
Jack ran like his life depended on it, because in this case his life really did depend on it. Those military guys with guns weren't just out for an evening run. They were after him.
Something clipped him on the left and spun him around as he lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, twisting his knee in the process. If he hadn’t been disoriented before, he was now. There were still small speckles of bright white light flitting across his vision in waves, causing his ability to pick out obstacles to become less acute. He hadn't run into anything in particular, just gotten too close to the wall and let inertia do the rest, reminding him that smashing into something with your shoulder at speed was likely to get you turned around and on your arse in a heartbeat.
He shook his head in frustration, trying to stop himself from seeing stars thanks to the earlier whack to the head that he’d taken. He had to get up! He couldn't sit here all night waiting for concussion to subside. The sound of jack-booted thugs could be heard heading his way. He pushed himself to his feet, blinking away the twinkling sparks and forcing himself to run.
You are not in your twenties anymore, Jack, he reminded himself. Back then he might have been able to run five miles without getting out of breath. Now in his late thirties he was struggling to pull in enough breath at all. He was stronger and smarter now than he had been then, but he’d have preferred speed and endurance over smarts right now.
He made it another three hundred yards before he realised he couldn't run any further, seeking the first place that looked like it could offer him a place to hide. He found it in an alleyway, a door with a cheap lock that was easy enough to shoulder charge open, slipping inside and forcing a heavy crate of something that might have been vegetables in front of it. No one had seen him turn into the alley, but he wasn't about to make it easy for anyone.
The room was dark; some kind of kitchen. The smell of onions or something similar still hung heavy in the air, swearing itself out of every pore in the walls and floor. Jack felt the bile rise up in the back of his throat, leaning over a sink just in time to empty his stomach. He wiped a hand across his face, sweaty with flecks of fresh vomit. He really had been concussed well if he was losing his stomach.
Never accepting an assignment like this again, he vowed. Never. The fact that three other agents had already turned it down should have been the red flag he needed to heed, but of course he hadn't. Just because other agents couldn't hack it didn't mean Jack couldn't. After all, he was one of the best, even if he did say so himself. He could do things others couldn't and he wasn't afraid of anything. He had the street smarts to get himself out of anything.
Well, almost anything.
He had the data drive and that was important. It was what he'd come here for. Then again, they had his ship, or at least a safe passage to it. They also had his vortex manipulator. He'd needed its computing power to hack the Ministry's security, but the data would have overloaded its capacitors if he’d attempted to download it onto there. In the confusion he'd had to choose the portable drive with the data or his wrist strap. It was covering his digital tracks, and foolishly he'd chosen his mission objective over his most prized possession. Not that the Agency wouldn't be furious he'd left it behind, even if no one would know what it was or how to operate it. It was the principle of the matter. Less than three dozen were ever issued, capable of transporting the wearer anywhere in space or time. There would be no replacement.
He desperately wanted to get it back, but how? His bigger problem was that he'd been seen. His face would be on every telescreen across the city by morning. Worse, he was operating in his own timeline, not somewhere his vortex manipulator might take him away from where he'd never step foot again. Word would get out what he'd done – espionage that even the Shadow Proclamation wouldn't protect him from. Time Agency operations were off the books. Plausible deniability was paramount.
Jack rifled through the kitchen, finding drinking water and grabbing a bottle before sliding down to the floor to drink it and stop his head from throbbing. This shouldn't have happened. His mission was to break in and hack the system, transfer the data and go. It should have taken them weeks, or even months, to notice it was gone. Instead, someone or something had tipped them off. They'd come armed with guns and grenades, one going off right beside Jack's position. It banged and flashed, knocking him to the ground from its shockwave, where he'd earned his concussion. How he'd made it out of there before the whole building had been locked down was anybody's guess, but without his vortex manipulator, he was going nowhere. It was his only way off this godforsaken rock now.
Five minutes passed. The ten more. He gave it an hour before finally relaxing. If they hadn’t bust down the door of every building between the Ministry and here by now they were making other plans to hunt him down. He was safe but it was only temporary. Come the morning, the occupants of the shop would be back to reopen for another day, armed with the knowledge that a terrorist was prowling the streets, and to be on the lookout for him. His window of escape was getting smaller by the minute and right now he didn't have any plan for what to do.
Title: Nowhere is safe
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG. Pre-canon.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Jack’s mission has gone awry and now he’s in big trouble.
Jack ran like his life depended on it, because in this case his life really did depend on it. Those military guys with guns weren't just out for an evening run. They were after him.
Something clipped him on the left and spun him around as he lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, twisting his knee in the process. If he hadn’t been disoriented before, he was now. There were still small speckles of bright white light flitting across his vision in waves, causing his ability to pick out obstacles to become less acute. He hadn't run into anything in particular, just gotten too close to the wall and let inertia do the rest, reminding him that smashing into something with your shoulder at speed was likely to get you turned around and on your arse in a heartbeat.
He shook his head in frustration, trying to stop himself from seeing stars thanks to the earlier whack to the head that he’d taken. He had to get up! He couldn't sit here all night waiting for concussion to subside. The sound of jack-booted thugs could be heard heading his way. He pushed himself to his feet, blinking away the twinkling sparks and forcing himself to run.
You are not in your twenties anymore, Jack, he reminded himself. Back then he might have been able to run five miles without getting out of breath. Now in his late thirties he was struggling to pull in enough breath at all. He was stronger and smarter now than he had been then, but he’d have preferred speed and endurance over smarts right now.
He made it another three hundred yards before he realised he couldn't run any further, seeking the first place that looked like it could offer him a place to hide. He found it in an alleyway, a door with a cheap lock that was easy enough to shoulder charge open, slipping inside and forcing a heavy crate of something that might have been vegetables in front of it. No one had seen him turn into the alley, but he wasn't about to make it easy for anyone.
The room was dark; some kind of kitchen. The smell of onions or something similar still hung heavy in the air, swearing itself out of every pore in the walls and floor. Jack felt the bile rise up in the back of his throat, leaning over a sink just in time to empty his stomach. He wiped a hand across his face, sweaty with flecks of fresh vomit. He really had been concussed well if he was losing his stomach.
Never accepting an assignment like this again, he vowed. Never. The fact that three other agents had already turned it down should have been the red flag he needed to heed, but of course he hadn't. Just because other agents couldn't hack it didn't mean Jack couldn't. After all, he was one of the best, even if he did say so himself. He could do things others couldn't and he wasn't afraid of anything. He had the street smarts to get himself out of anything.
Well, almost anything.
He had the data drive and that was important. It was what he'd come here for. Then again, they had his ship, or at least a safe passage to it. They also had his vortex manipulator. He'd needed its computing power to hack the Ministry's security, but the data would have overloaded its capacitors if he’d attempted to download it onto there. In the confusion he'd had to choose the portable drive with the data or his wrist strap. It was covering his digital tracks, and foolishly he'd chosen his mission objective over his most prized possession. Not that the Agency wouldn't be furious he'd left it behind, even if no one would know what it was or how to operate it. It was the principle of the matter. Less than three dozen were ever issued, capable of transporting the wearer anywhere in space or time. There would be no replacement.
He desperately wanted to get it back, but how? His bigger problem was that he'd been seen. His face would be on every telescreen across the city by morning. Worse, he was operating in his own timeline, not somewhere his vortex manipulator might take him away from where he'd never step foot again. Word would get out what he'd done – espionage that even the Shadow Proclamation wouldn't protect him from. Time Agency operations were off the books. Plausible deniability was paramount.
Jack rifled through the kitchen, finding drinking water and grabbing a bottle before sliding down to the floor to drink it and stop his head from throbbing. This shouldn't have happened. His mission was to break in and hack the system, transfer the data and go. It should have taken them weeks, or even months, to notice it was gone. Instead, someone or something had tipped them off. They'd come armed with guns and grenades, one going off right beside Jack's position. It banged and flashed, knocking him to the ground from its shockwave, where he'd earned his concussion. How he'd made it out of there before the whole building had been locked down was anybody's guess, but without his vortex manipulator, he was going nowhere. It was his only way off this godforsaken rock now.
Five minutes passed. The ten more. He gave it an hour before finally relaxing. If they hadn’t bust down the door of every building between the Ministry and here by now they were making other plans to hunt him down. He was safe but it was only temporary. Come the morning, the occupants of the shop would be back to reopen for another day, armed with the knowledge that a terrorist was prowling the streets, and to be on the lookout for him. His window of escape was getting smaller by the minute and right now he didn't have any plan for what to do.