Gold Eyes Agent Johnson Gets a Job Offer
I didn't think I'd be doing anymore of this, but it just wont stay shut. I get beat up by plot bunnies when I'm on the bus. There could be more, Gawd help us.
Anyroad, none of this is mine, there is NO hanky panky. A little violence though.
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She had kept her head, and kept ploughing on, after. She couldn't admit to herself that her morals, beliefs, her self worth, were in the wrong. Occasionally there was the faintest flicker of self disgust. Tamped down.
She had important necessary work to do. It wasn't so much black ops wet work anymore. But working for UNIT was exciting, relevant. She was still someone who could be counted on for the sticky grey jobs that needed doing.
It was full on dark when she left HQ that evening. Her little flat was only a few blocks away, so walking wasn't a problem. Someone as lethal as she was had nothing to fear from the dark. She rather fancied herself as a piece of the dark. The idea made her smile slightly.
"Excuse me."
She started. jumped. What? Something, a darker patch in that doorway....She automatically took a defensive stance. " Yes, who's there? I warn you, I'm armed." She glanced quickly up and down the sidewalk, but it was late enough, there was no one else visible in the pools of light running down the street.
The slender figure flowed out of the dark shadows, to where the street lights brightened the night. " You are Agent Johnson, am I right?"
Johnson looked hard at the girl who had accosted her. Choppy, tchatchkied hair, leather vest and pants...very worn short red stomper boots. Strange filigree tattoos around her wrists.
Ha! Some kind of rock punk performer. Johnson's defenses started to drop. Hands on hips, eyebrows raised dismissively, " Who wants to know? "
The girl smiled shyly, dropped her head down. When it came back up, Johnson's night was profoundly changed.
The girl's eyes were glowing gold. " We are Melissa. We know what you did to our Jack. " An eerie double voiced statement.
" What?"
" We know what you tried to do to our Steven, "
Johnson let herself step back a pace. This punker girl was on something. But wait, those two names together...." Harkness and the Carter boy? What about them?"
" They are ours, our loves, no can hurt them! Say sorry! " And the punker girl advanced.
Johnson set herself to meet trouble. What did this girl have to do with the 456 business? That op had been so ultra black and wet she hadn't even dared to make an educated guess as to where the orders had originated from.
Yet Torchwood had risen from the rubble, stronger than ever. Certain factions in the government were seeing to Torchwood's needs like a doting grandmother.
Now that she had moved under the lights, Johnson could see the girl better. There, above the left eyebrow. A small scar.... Johnson had seen photos, this was that car accident victim Torchwood had taken in. But wasn't she younger? Crippled up? And mute?
Something slammed into her chest. Her arms were grabbed. She was flung into the brick and steel corner of a building. Well, that would teach her to wool gather.
" Say sorry! " A plaintive double treble .
Johnson, stunned nearly senseless, fought to get her breath back. She clawed her way up the soot dirty wall to her feet. Her long, neatly gathered ponytail was yanked, dragging her away from the wall's support. She tried to focus on mounting some kind of defense, but she was completely off balance.
Thankfully the cement sidewalk broke her fall. A fierce, small body landed on her, pinning her down.
Gold eyes stared into hers, gold tears falling down. " Just say sorry! Please! "
For the life of her, Johnson knew she could never begin to atone for what she had done on behalf of cold inhumane leaders. She had been told that her actions were, in the long view, for the public good. The ends justified the means. And she had done that sort of thing for so long her sense of right and wrong was very of kilter.
She tiredly looked up into the girl's face. The girl obviously had a deep connection to Harkness and the boy, was willing to take on a dangerous opponent for them. Laying on the cold sidewalk Johnson asked herself if there was anyone who would care to do the same for her? No, she could honestly answer, there was no one. The circumstances of her life and work forced her to keep others at arms ' length. She could die here, at this girl's hands, and there would be no one to mourn her. And that made her sorry.
She closed her eyes. " Do it,girl. Don't waste any more time."
Puzzled, the double treble said, " Do it? Do what? "
" Finish me off! Stop playing with me! I've done what I've done. I belonged to masters that were never told no, and weren't about to hear it from me. It didn't matter if I said no, someone else was going to say yes. I was just the most convenient, efficient tool for the job."
The girl looked down at her, frozen. The gold eyes glared hard, trying to find a trace of remorse. But there was only calm acceptance of the inevitable.
The girl sighed, pushed herself off of Johnson. She turned her back. " When you're done being someone else's tool, come to Torchwood. The Mothers need you. " And with that she briskly walked off into the dark.
Johnson lay there for a bit, catching her breath. Amazed to be alive, heartily embarrassed at being taken down by a youngster with some sharp moves. A job offer? From Torchwood? Was there enough left of that filthy tattered rag that was her soul? And who were The Mothers?
Anyroad, none of this is mine, there is NO hanky panky. A little violence though.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
She had kept her head, and kept ploughing on, after. She couldn't admit to herself that her morals, beliefs, her self worth, were in the wrong. Occasionally there was the faintest flicker of self disgust. Tamped down.
She had important necessary work to do. It wasn't so much black ops wet work anymore. But working for UNIT was exciting, relevant. She was still someone who could be counted on for the sticky grey jobs that needed doing.
It was full on dark when she left HQ that evening. Her little flat was only a few blocks away, so walking wasn't a problem. Someone as lethal as she was had nothing to fear from the dark. She rather fancied herself as a piece of the dark. The idea made her smile slightly.
"Excuse me."
She started. jumped. What? Something, a darker patch in that doorway....She automatically took a defensive stance. " Yes, who's there? I warn you, I'm armed." She glanced quickly up and down the sidewalk, but it was late enough, there was no one else visible in the pools of light running down the street.
The slender figure flowed out of the dark shadows, to where the street lights brightened the night. " You are Agent Johnson, am I right?"
Johnson looked hard at the girl who had accosted her. Choppy, tchatchkied hair, leather vest and pants...very worn short red stomper boots. Strange filigree tattoos around her wrists.
Ha! Some kind of rock punk performer. Johnson's defenses started to drop. Hands on hips, eyebrows raised dismissively, " Who wants to know? "
The girl smiled shyly, dropped her head down. When it came back up, Johnson's night was profoundly changed.
The girl's eyes were glowing gold. " We are Melissa. We know what you did to our Jack. " An eerie double voiced statement.
" What?"
" We know what you tried to do to our Steven, "
Johnson let herself step back a pace. This punker girl was on something. But wait, those two names together...." Harkness and the Carter boy? What about them?"
" They are ours, our loves, no can hurt them! Say sorry! " And the punker girl advanced.
Johnson set herself to meet trouble. What did this girl have to do with the 456 business? That op had been so ultra black and wet she hadn't even dared to make an educated guess as to where the orders had originated from.
Yet Torchwood had risen from the rubble, stronger than ever. Certain factions in the government were seeing to Torchwood's needs like a doting grandmother.
Now that she had moved under the lights, Johnson could see the girl better. There, above the left eyebrow. A small scar.... Johnson had seen photos, this was that car accident victim Torchwood had taken in. But wasn't she younger? Crippled up? And mute?
Something slammed into her chest. Her arms were grabbed. She was flung into the brick and steel corner of a building. Well, that would teach her to wool gather.
" Say sorry! " A plaintive double treble .
Johnson, stunned nearly senseless, fought to get her breath back. She clawed her way up the soot dirty wall to her feet. Her long, neatly gathered ponytail was yanked, dragging her away from the wall's support. She tried to focus on mounting some kind of defense, but she was completely off balance.
Thankfully the cement sidewalk broke her fall. A fierce, small body landed on her, pinning her down.
Gold eyes stared into hers, gold tears falling down. " Just say sorry! Please! "
For the life of her, Johnson knew she could never begin to atone for what she had done on behalf of cold inhumane leaders. She had been told that her actions were, in the long view, for the public good. The ends justified the means. And she had done that sort of thing for so long her sense of right and wrong was very of kilter.
She tiredly looked up into the girl's face. The girl obviously had a deep connection to Harkness and the boy, was willing to take on a dangerous opponent for them. Laying on the cold sidewalk Johnson asked herself if there was anyone who would care to do the same for her? No, she could honestly answer, there was no one. The circumstances of her life and work forced her to keep others at arms ' length. She could die here, at this girl's hands, and there would be no one to mourn her. And that made her sorry.
She closed her eyes. " Do it,girl. Don't waste any more time."
Puzzled, the double treble said, " Do it? Do what? "
" Finish me off! Stop playing with me! I've done what I've done. I belonged to masters that were never told no, and weren't about to hear it from me. It didn't matter if I said no, someone else was going to say yes. I was just the most convenient, efficient tool for the job."
The girl looked down at her, frozen. The gold eyes glared hard, trying to find a trace of remorse. But there was only calm acceptance of the inevitable.
The girl sighed, pushed herself off of Johnson. She turned her back. " When you're done being someone else's tool, come to Torchwood. The Mothers need you. " And with that she briskly walked off into the dark.
Johnson lay there for a bit, catching her breath. Amazed to be alive, heartily embarrassed at being taken down by a youngster with some sharp moves. A job offer? From Torchwood? Was there enough left of that filthy tattered rag that was her soul? And who were The Mothers?