situation: cardiff ; open to torchwood three
Contrary to the Torchwood opinion that humans outside of themselves and UNIT tend to turn a blind eye toward paranormal happenings, the Cardiff P.D. does, in fact, studiously keep record of any unusual events. They may lack the knowledge that the city they're sworn to serve and protect sits on a Rift in space and time, but they have seen the ( Read more... )
Uncomplainingly as always, Ianto keeps on comm with Jack, providing the requested local knowledge while he digs through the Archives for requested information. He checks under 'St-Su' for 'Stolen: Corpses,' 'Th-Ti' for 'Theft: Corpses,' and 'Co-Cr' for, well ... 'Corpse.' There are any number of categories to cross-reference, but he only finds a few files of any consequence in the time provided.
Ianto does not get the full two hours, of course, with the specific order for coffee and biscuits; once a teaboy, always a teaboy. (Moira would be mortified.) Ianto makes it down to the conference room before all the others, a neat stack of folders, undoubtedly containing his research, set on one corner of the table. The bulk of his attention is on the preparation of four individual coffee mugs; glasses of water are already set out on the table, along with a stainless steel pitcher with ice water in. Silver tea-trays hold the requested biscuits and Welsh cakes.
At 2100, when the rest of the team enter the room and take their seats, Ianto will glide around the table like the world's best butler and deliver their coffee, just the way they like it, of course.
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She settled down in the seat next to Owen's in an absent minded manner and looked up at Ianto briefly with a kind smile. "Thank you." The error hunt continued, but now she was armed with coffee and biscuits. She was ready for anything.
... Which was a dangerous thing to say in Torchwood.
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"I've been well," Ianto answers Owen a bit ambivalently, and after placing Jack's blue-striped mug at the head of the table, he moves around to assume his own spot. The underground conference room seems to suit rather more than the previous glass-walled one that has since been turned into the new hothouse. "Glad to be back in Cardiff."
Ianto pauses, lifting his folders of reports. "And busy with research." He pulls his sleeve up to look at his watch. "2105. Anyone know where Jack got off to?"
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The thing Ianto Jones fails to realize is that a former Time Agent is never late. He's ... well, fashionably late. And considering that Jack called the conference to begin with - and it therefore cannot start without him - being five minutes late, precisely, is indeed rather fashionable. "Present and accounted for, Ianto," he announces over the top stack of his own research (of which he's beginning to lose several loose papers and sticky notes which are haphazardly crammed into ill-fitting manila folders with a plethora of paperclips), "feel free to update the update the minutes."
The stack, sans a few stray pieces of loose leaf, is dropped on the free space at the head of the table with a resounding thump that ripples the surface of his coffee. "Someone change the rota. Gwen's on muck duty in the Weevil cells for two weeks straight when she gets back." Oho, someone didn't enjoy their foray into profiling victims. And, yes, that also qualifies as a greeting according to Captain Jack. Hello, team, he's slightly grumpy with his sudden workload.
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Flipping open the file in front of him, Owen started off, "I traced those dead bodies back to a metal works factory called Formasteel." He passed around some photos of the building, which showed some nondescript trucks parked behind a warehouse, with workers unloading large, unidentifiable crates of something, "Except it's not really a metal works factory, and those crates really aren't filled with steel ... Unless the CEOs of Formasteel have decided to replace all their iron with human cadavers."
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"There is definitely a correlation between Rift activity and the reports you gave me, Jack. All seem to happen with a few hours and a several miles of each spike." At this point, Toshiko handed out a map showing the locations of each report and the corresponding response from the rift. "If you'll notice, the level of Rift activity increases with each subsequent report."
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Ianto jots down the requested note per Jack, then sits back to listen attentively to Owen and Tosh's respective reports, making notes as well on Formasteel and the Rift spikes, for further research, of course. Then he clears his throat and flips his own folder open, glancing over the sentences jotted within the margins of the pages.
"Outside of the usual black market theft of parts from fresh corpses for transplant," he reads off, "there was only one particularly unusual note of body theft in the archives. A Dr. M. Ravenscroft - ominous name - stole parts from a total of a dozen individual corpses, from the morgue of the local gaol, crematoriums, or anywhere he felt they were particularly unlikely to notice them missing. It would seem from the evidence of his research found after he was caught that he was trying to piece together a body and bring it to life. Rather Frankenstein-like of him."
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He did come to work today; which is actually something to note, since he actually has to come in to work like a regular, not-living-in-the-basement type these days. Jack settles into his chair at the head of the table and reaches immediately for the mug of coffee left for him, wasting several good could-be-listening seconds glancing between it and Ianto appreciatively. "Formasteel," he muses once Owen finishes, "I've never heard of them. Are they new or just quiet? Either way, if they're shipping in cadavers that are missing in correlation with Rift activity - " Jack inclines his head towards Toshiko, " - then they've got my attention."
Setting the mug down and leaning forward, Jack motions for Toshiko's data with one hand. "I trust you have the exact intervals and percentages," he says, marking the sheet with a blue highlighter seemingly at random and passing it along to Ianto with hardly what could be described as a significant look. "We'll need to see all of these locations first-hand, gather any readings we can, proceed from there. Formasteel is on our list of social calls to make, but not without checking each of these locations out first. Some of these back date several days. Are we sure the Rift has stopped at this point?" It's a rhetorical question, almost, given how uncertain they all are about anything to do with the Rift.
The Captain pulls a face and glances at Ianto, just one step shy of a grin. "It was rather Frankenstein of him, actually. And if Dr. Ravenscroft III has set up shop in Formasteel and is using it as a front for some hair-brained corpse reanimation scheme, I'm taking an early holiday. You all have fun with the bodies. Lemon juice helps the stench, but nothing gets the funny taste out of the back of your throat. Trust me."
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He looked over the list of locations they would have to investigate before confronting Ravenscroft at his Lair of Dead Corpses, "Tosh and I can take the first half." He glanced over his shoulder towards the soft-spoken Asian, "If I die, and some creepy alien decides to drag my body towards an unmarked van, I want you to incinerate me with one of your gadgets." Way to be a man, Owen.
He returned his attention to Jack, obviously having some other life-threatening concerns, "And what if this turns out to be another hostile takeover, like the Cybermen? Contingency plan?"
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The question the good doctor asked was a good one, and Toshiko looked to their fearless leader for direction.
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