Ficlet: Taking Control
Title: Taking Control
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Team.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There are aliens in the local supermarket; Torchwood needs to get the situation under control quickly.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Prompt 201: Control at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
“Calm down, everybody, there’s no need to panic; everything’s under control!” Jack raised his voice effortlessly above the loud chatter and intermittent shouts and shrieks of the understandably unsettled shoppers. Even though holiday season was well past and everyone present was a Cardiff resident, that didn’t mean they didn’t find their home city’s intermittent weird occurrences alarming.
Ianto could sympathise; he’d been working for Torchwood for years, and yet he still found a lot of what he saw in the course of his job disturbing. Nevertheless, Jack’s statement seemed a tad premature. Ianto glanced at his lover, raising one eyebrow.
“Under control? That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” The team had only just arrived, and from where Ianto was standing, nothing appeared even remotely under control.
“Depends on your point of view, and anyway, having people panicking isn’t going to help us gain control of the situation any faster, is it?”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Ianto trailed off. “Do we know what we’re dealing with yet?”
“At a guess? Probably those.” Jack indicated several… things that resembled oversized greenish-grey sausages, perhaps a yard long, and with a diameter of around eight inches. They appeared legless at first glance, but when Ianto focused on the closest one, he could see half a dozen small, stumpy protrusions set out in pairs beneath its front and rear. The creatures humped their way along like some caterpillars, the stumpless centre sections on their bodies arching upwards as the rear section was drawn forward, then flattening out again as the front advanced.
The aliens had four pale grey eyes at the front, and feathery antennae that were constantly in motion, but what was alarming the shoppers was the pair of shiny, dark grey forelimbs tipped with formidable lobster like claws, which emerged from just behind the creatures’ heads. They clacked ominously as they were waved about.
Ianto studied their appearance for a long moment before finally speaking. “Any idea what they are?”
“Not a clue.”
“Well, that’s encouraging.” Ianto’s tone made it clear he meant the exact opposite.
“They have hands, sort of, so there’s a good chance they’re sentient.”
“I wouldn’t call those hands, Jack, and even if they do turn out to be sentient, that doesn’t mean they’ll be friendly.”
“Do I detect a hint of pessimism?”
Ianto threw a withering glare Jack’s way, but since Jack wasn’t looking at him it failed to have any effect.
Meanwhile, the rest of the team were ushering the shoppers over near the door, administering retcon-laced water, and convincing everyone there was a large snake loose in the supermarket, while Tosh deftly accessed their phones and deleted photographs using a nifty piece of alien tech.
“Right, let’s go talk to our visitors, shall we?” Jack beamed at Ianto.
“In what language?”
“The language of ‘I’m in charge here, and you’d better do as I say, or else’.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Just like that, Torchwood took control of the situation.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Team.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There are aliens in the local supermarket; Torchwood needs to get the situation under control quickly.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Prompt 201: Control at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
“Calm down, everybody, there’s no need to panic; everything’s under control!” Jack raised his voice effortlessly above the loud chatter and intermittent shouts and shrieks of the understandably unsettled shoppers. Even though holiday season was well past and everyone present was a Cardiff resident, that didn’t mean they didn’t find their home city’s intermittent weird occurrences alarming.
Ianto could sympathise; he’d been working for Torchwood for years, and yet he still found a lot of what he saw in the course of his job disturbing. Nevertheless, Jack’s statement seemed a tad premature. Ianto glanced at his lover, raising one eyebrow.
“Under control? That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” The team had only just arrived, and from where Ianto was standing, nothing appeared even remotely under control.
“Depends on your point of view, and anyway, having people panicking isn’t going to help us gain control of the situation any faster, is it?”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Ianto trailed off. “Do we know what we’re dealing with yet?”
“At a guess? Probably those.” Jack indicated several… things that resembled oversized greenish-grey sausages, perhaps a yard long, and with a diameter of around eight inches. They appeared legless at first glance, but when Ianto focused on the closest one, he could see half a dozen small, stumpy protrusions set out in pairs beneath its front and rear. The creatures humped their way along like some caterpillars, the stumpless centre sections on their bodies arching upwards as the rear section was drawn forward, then flattening out again as the front advanced.
The aliens had four pale grey eyes at the front, and feathery antennae that were constantly in motion, but what was alarming the shoppers was the pair of shiny, dark grey forelimbs tipped with formidable lobster like claws, which emerged from just behind the creatures’ heads. They clacked ominously as they were waved about.
Ianto studied their appearance for a long moment before finally speaking. “Any idea what they are?”
“Not a clue.”
“Well, that’s encouraging.” Ianto’s tone made it clear he meant the exact opposite.
“They have hands, sort of, so there’s a good chance they’re sentient.”
“I wouldn’t call those hands, Jack, and even if they do turn out to be sentient, that doesn’t mean they’ll be friendly.”
“Do I detect a hint of pessimism?”
Ianto threw a withering glare Jack’s way, but since Jack wasn’t looking at him it failed to have any effect.
Meanwhile, the rest of the team were ushering the shoppers over near the door, administering retcon-laced water, and convincing everyone there was a large snake loose in the supermarket, while Tosh deftly accessed their phones and deleted photographs using a nifty piece of alien tech.
“Right, let’s go talk to our visitors, shall we?” Jack beamed at Ianto.
“In what language?”
“The language of ‘I’m in charge here, and you’d better do as I say, or else’.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Just like that, Torchwood took control of the situation.
The End