[BTR]
[Locked to Torchwood]
Right, everyone, the city's not fixing itself.
Take some time to introduce yourselves to each other; I want to see noise on these journals. Debate the great tactical problems. Develop schema for experimental technologies. Share brownie recipes; I don't care. For the next little while, and I know you're going to love this, Owen, we're going to be team-building to any extent we can. Plan on sleeping in the Tower and taking a few meals together. We don't know how to work together, we're pretty much screwed.
Anyone who hasn't gone through firearms training needs to see me to get that fixed as soon as possible.
I'm in the middle of an equipment audit to see what was left behind when everyone was taken. Everyone needs to see me as soon as possible to be assigned a headset and a mobile phone. Those of you without Torchwood-issue firearms also need to see me to determine what style fits you best.
Any questions, ask.
Back in my home universe, Torchwood was founded to protect the British empire from anything beyond the scope or knowledge of its usual protectors, and to serve the Empire's interests by securing alien technology. By the time it filtered down to my command in Cardiff, the imperative was to protect the city and monitor the Rift.
This is Torchwood Chicago. We don't have the institutional resources we did back home, but this is what we do: we take what we have and we make it work.
Torchwood Chicago's mandate is, primarily, to look after wanderer interests in this city - we're the only thing resembling a special response team that will and can. Protecting the city itself is an extension of that. Like it or not, this is where the majority of wanderers are going to be, and we're going to keep it standing. We don't have time to ease into this job, boys and girls; let's hit the ground running.
[Locked to Martha Jones]
...I spent a long time debating how to open this.
I've seen the updated lists of the missing. I... can't say how sorry I am. Much as I know that sorry fixes nothing.
I know I'm probably not the most reassuring person to pop up on the journal network right now, but it looks like we're not getting much choice in this. Owen drafted me into the Torchwood reconstruction at gunpoint, so here I am.
From what I've heard from Elashte, the entire Archangel command structure is gone and there's unrest on all the less-than-legal channels that talk to him. You and Elashte may be the last known authority figures left.
Look, I want to help. If there's any way I can.
I can stop by the Conrad, if it'd be useful. Tomorrow?