Fic: The Right Weapon
Title: The Right Weapon
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Owen, Jack, Gwen, Tosh.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1533
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There’s a very nasty critter loose in the Hub, but Ianto knows how to deal with it.
Written For: Challenge 395: Stick at fan_flashworks.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Torchwood Three has some of the most advanced weapons on the planet. Not just regular earth-made firearms, but alien pulse pistols, laser guns, sonic grenades, and at least a dozen other nifty devices the team can use for the defence of themselves, the human race, and the planet. They are, to put it mildly, very well armed.
Yet here Ianto stands, poised ready to take on the latest alien menace to get loose in the Hub, wielding a hockey stick, of all things! Why there happens to be one in the Hub at all he still has no clue. He found it some months ago lurking in a cluttered corner of Jack’s office, but he’s used it as a weapon before, back when the second glove came to life. That is, he would have used it if he’d had the chance; he was all ready to go into battle, until Owen shot the glove, killing it. That had been a bit of an anti-climax, but Ianto remains sure his improvised weapon could have done the job just as efficiently as a bullet, and with less chance of injuring bystanders. Maybe this time the hockey stick will a chance get to prove its worth.
Guns and fancy alien weapons are all very well, especially when it comes to repelling hostile invaders, but they have their disadvantages too. Ianto has his stun gun in his pocket, but that requires physical contact with the enemy in order to be effective, which would not be advisable in this case. The alien menace has already killed Jack, who was in the autopsy bay with Owen, studying their latest find, when it surprised them by not actually being dead. Owen had sensibly taken refuge in a morgue drawer, where it couldn’t get to him, and had called for help from there over the comms.
Ianto also has his Torchwood Special in its shoulder holster, but the danger of ricochets in an enclosed space means he’d rather not try using it against the current threat. There’s too much sensitive equipment down there, much of it irreplaceable, plus he doesn’t want to accidentally shoot Jack, who’s having a bad enough day as it is. From what Ianto’s been able to hear over his Bluetooth earpiece since Owen alerted him to the situation, every time Jack revives, the alien kills him again.
The creature, which is a sort of alien crab, scorpion, lobster thing, is clearly venomous. It’s fairly small, about the size of Ianto’s shoe, with ten scuttling legs, four pincers, and a flexible, not to mention lethally poisonous, barb that shoots out from what Ianto can only assume are its mouthparts. If, that is, that end is the front and not the rear. The pincers are attached at the alien’s midsection, and it can scuttle equally well forwards, backwards, or sideways, so maybe it doesn’t have a front or a back as such; aliens can be very… alien that way.
Before coming up to the main Hub, Ianto took sensible precautions, since he’d rather not get himself killed. It would upset Jack. With that in mind, he’s wearing what amounts to armour plating on his lower half. It’s not glamorous, the garment is like a pair of waders that reach almost to his chest, with a greenish rubbery surface that’s so slick nothing can get a grip on it, and a flexible metallic lining that’s tougher than anything that can be found on earth. There are matching gauntlets that reach almost to his shoulders and he’s wearing them as well. They’re a bit big on him, but they don’t hamper his ability to grip his hockey stick, and that’s all that matters right now. A welding mask covering his face completes the look. He doesn’t want anything toxic splashing in his eyes or mouth.
From the top of the steps, Ianto stares down into the medical bay. He knows the alien is still down there, he caught sight of it briefly when he first got here, just before it scuttled out of sight, and he can hear the clicking of its crablike legs against the tiles as it moves about; fortunately, it doesn’t seem to have discovered the steps yet, so it’s reasonably well contained for the moment. He wants to know its exact position before he goes after it though. Only a fool would go barging into a dangerous situation without doing any reconnaissance first. Then he spots it, mostly hidden behind the wheeled trolley Owen puts his instruments on when he’s working. ‘Aha!’ he thinks. ‘Got you now!’
Against the far wall, Jack is beginning to show signs of reviving, his skin turning from the bluish-grey pallor of death to a more healthy, pinkish shade, and Ianto would prefer not having to listen to his lover die yet again; five times in less than an hour is more than enough.
Ianto begins to inch his way down the steps, his back to the wall, walking as quietly as he can and keeping his attention fixed on where the alien is lurking.
“Where the hell are you, Teaboy?” Owen’s voice sounds almost painfully loud in Ianto’s ear, but he ignores it. The alien obviously heard Owen too, and scuttles in the direction of the closed metal doors, behind one of which the medic is impatiently waiting for Ianto to rescue him. Owen is so going to owe him for this!
Reaching the bottom of the steps, Ianto crosses the floor of the med bay in four long strides, swinging his trusty hockey stick at the alien before it can move and sending it skidding at speed across the slick floor tiles like a misshapen hockey puck to smash into the wall beneath the drawers.
It picks itself up awkwardly, one pincer and at least three legs visibly broken, and leaking a disgustingly oily purplish ichor, but Ianto isn’t done with it yet. As it limps towards him, clicking its intact pincers menacingly, he swings the hockey stick again, sending it flying into the wall a second time, smashing a few more legs and breaking open the carapace. It lays at the base of the wall twitching feebly for a few moments, before trying and failing to get up on its remaining legs. Whether it intends to launch an attack of its own or try to escape, Ianto can’t tell, but he shows it no mercy, bringing the hockey stick down on it a few more times for good measure. Only when he considers it sufficiently pulverised does he stop. Job done.
Behind him, as he stares down at the scattered bits of his defeated and very dead foe, Ianto hears movement, and then Jack’s voice.
“Nicely done, Mister Jones; that was seriously hot!”
Owen pushes his drawer open, twisting around to glare at Ianto. “What took you so bloody long? I was practically freezing my bollocks off in there!”
“Preparations,” Ianto replies mildly. “Don’t bother to thank me; not that you would anyway.” He glances towards the medic. “Do you want to autopsy the remains or would you rather I just incinerate them?”
“I should probably run a few tests first, just to make sure burning it won’t release toxic gasses.”
“As you wish. I’d better go neutralise my hockey stick. Try not to tread in anything.” Ianto starts back up the steps, Jack trailing behind him, grinning, leaving Owen to play with the alien’s remains. Good thing they’ve got plenty of neutralising agent available. He and Jack picked up several cases on their last trip with the Doctor; according to the Time Lord, it neutralises all known poisons and toxins, and a lot that haven’t been discovered yet. Using it seems a wise precaution under present circumstances. Maybe he should neutralise Jack while he’s at it, in case there are any traces of venom still in his system. On second thoughts, maybe not; anything dangerous was no doubt neutralised when he resurrected.
As Ianto reaches the top of the steps, the cog door opens with its usual cacophony of sirens and flashing lights to admit Gwen and Tosh, returning from a tech retrieval.
“Hey, guys! We picked up lunch on the way back,” Gwen calls out cheerfully, holding up several bags from one of their favourite takeaways. Then she stops dead, staring at Ianto, dressed outlandishly and wielding a purple-splattered hockey stick. “Did we miss something?”
“Just Torchwood business as usual,” Ianto replies cheerfully, pushing his mask up to smile at the ladies. “Everything’s taken care of, but I wouldn’t go down in the autopsy bay if I were you. I’ll have a bit of cleaning up to do down there once Owen’s finished his examination of the remains.”
“Right. I’ll just take lunch down to the boardroom, shall I? You can join us when you’re ready.”
Ianto nods. “I’ll make coffee in a bit, just need to freshen up first.” He heads for the stairs to the lower levels while Jack makes for his office.
Coming up beside Gwen, Tosh whispers, “I think we should check out the CCTV footage, don’t you?”
“Definitely. Why does the fun stuff always happen when we’re not here to see it?”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Owen, Jack, Gwen, Tosh.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1533
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There’s a very nasty critter loose in the Hub, but Ianto knows how to deal with it.
Written For: Challenge 395: Stick at fan_flashworks.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Torchwood Three has some of the most advanced weapons on the planet. Not just regular earth-made firearms, but alien pulse pistols, laser guns, sonic grenades, and at least a dozen other nifty devices the team can use for the defence of themselves, the human race, and the planet. They are, to put it mildly, very well armed.
Yet here Ianto stands, poised ready to take on the latest alien menace to get loose in the Hub, wielding a hockey stick, of all things! Why there happens to be one in the Hub at all he still has no clue. He found it some months ago lurking in a cluttered corner of Jack’s office, but he’s used it as a weapon before, back when the second glove came to life. That is, he would have used it if he’d had the chance; he was all ready to go into battle, until Owen shot the glove, killing it. That had been a bit of an anti-climax, but Ianto remains sure his improvised weapon could have done the job just as efficiently as a bullet, and with less chance of injuring bystanders. Maybe this time the hockey stick will a chance get to prove its worth.
Guns and fancy alien weapons are all very well, especially when it comes to repelling hostile invaders, but they have their disadvantages too. Ianto has his stun gun in his pocket, but that requires physical contact with the enemy in order to be effective, which would not be advisable in this case. The alien menace has already killed Jack, who was in the autopsy bay with Owen, studying their latest find, when it surprised them by not actually being dead. Owen had sensibly taken refuge in a morgue drawer, where it couldn’t get to him, and had called for help from there over the comms.
Ianto also has his Torchwood Special in its shoulder holster, but the danger of ricochets in an enclosed space means he’d rather not try using it against the current threat. There’s too much sensitive equipment down there, much of it irreplaceable, plus he doesn’t want to accidentally shoot Jack, who’s having a bad enough day as it is. From what Ianto’s been able to hear over his Bluetooth earpiece since Owen alerted him to the situation, every time Jack revives, the alien kills him again.
The creature, which is a sort of alien crab, scorpion, lobster thing, is clearly venomous. It’s fairly small, about the size of Ianto’s shoe, with ten scuttling legs, four pincers, and a flexible, not to mention lethally poisonous, barb that shoots out from what Ianto can only assume are its mouthparts. If, that is, that end is the front and not the rear. The pincers are attached at the alien’s midsection, and it can scuttle equally well forwards, backwards, or sideways, so maybe it doesn’t have a front or a back as such; aliens can be very… alien that way.
Before coming up to the main Hub, Ianto took sensible precautions, since he’d rather not get himself killed. It would upset Jack. With that in mind, he’s wearing what amounts to armour plating on his lower half. It’s not glamorous, the garment is like a pair of waders that reach almost to his chest, with a greenish rubbery surface that’s so slick nothing can get a grip on it, and a flexible metallic lining that’s tougher than anything that can be found on earth. There are matching gauntlets that reach almost to his shoulders and he’s wearing them as well. They’re a bit big on him, but they don’t hamper his ability to grip his hockey stick, and that’s all that matters right now. A welding mask covering his face completes the look. He doesn’t want anything toxic splashing in his eyes or mouth.
From the top of the steps, Ianto stares down into the medical bay. He knows the alien is still down there, he caught sight of it briefly when he first got here, just before it scuttled out of sight, and he can hear the clicking of its crablike legs against the tiles as it moves about; fortunately, it doesn’t seem to have discovered the steps yet, so it’s reasonably well contained for the moment. He wants to know its exact position before he goes after it though. Only a fool would go barging into a dangerous situation without doing any reconnaissance first. Then he spots it, mostly hidden behind the wheeled trolley Owen puts his instruments on when he’s working. ‘Aha!’ he thinks. ‘Got you now!’
Against the far wall, Jack is beginning to show signs of reviving, his skin turning from the bluish-grey pallor of death to a more healthy, pinkish shade, and Ianto would prefer not having to listen to his lover die yet again; five times in less than an hour is more than enough.
Ianto begins to inch his way down the steps, his back to the wall, walking as quietly as he can and keeping his attention fixed on where the alien is lurking.
“Where the hell are you, Teaboy?” Owen’s voice sounds almost painfully loud in Ianto’s ear, but he ignores it. The alien obviously heard Owen too, and scuttles in the direction of the closed metal doors, behind one of which the medic is impatiently waiting for Ianto to rescue him. Owen is so going to owe him for this!
Reaching the bottom of the steps, Ianto crosses the floor of the med bay in four long strides, swinging his trusty hockey stick at the alien before it can move and sending it skidding at speed across the slick floor tiles like a misshapen hockey puck to smash into the wall beneath the drawers.
It picks itself up awkwardly, one pincer and at least three legs visibly broken, and leaking a disgustingly oily purplish ichor, but Ianto isn’t done with it yet. As it limps towards him, clicking its intact pincers menacingly, he swings the hockey stick again, sending it flying into the wall a second time, smashing a few more legs and breaking open the carapace. It lays at the base of the wall twitching feebly for a few moments, before trying and failing to get up on its remaining legs. Whether it intends to launch an attack of its own or try to escape, Ianto can’t tell, but he shows it no mercy, bringing the hockey stick down on it a few more times for good measure. Only when he considers it sufficiently pulverised does he stop. Job done.
Behind him, as he stares down at the scattered bits of his defeated and very dead foe, Ianto hears movement, and then Jack’s voice.
“Nicely done, Mister Jones; that was seriously hot!”
Owen pushes his drawer open, twisting around to glare at Ianto. “What took you so bloody long? I was practically freezing my bollocks off in there!”
“Preparations,” Ianto replies mildly. “Don’t bother to thank me; not that you would anyway.” He glances towards the medic. “Do you want to autopsy the remains or would you rather I just incinerate them?”
“I should probably run a few tests first, just to make sure burning it won’t release toxic gasses.”
“As you wish. I’d better go neutralise my hockey stick. Try not to tread in anything.” Ianto starts back up the steps, Jack trailing behind him, grinning, leaving Owen to play with the alien’s remains. Good thing they’ve got plenty of neutralising agent available. He and Jack picked up several cases on their last trip with the Doctor; according to the Time Lord, it neutralises all known poisons and toxins, and a lot that haven’t been discovered yet. Using it seems a wise precaution under present circumstances. Maybe he should neutralise Jack while he’s at it, in case there are any traces of venom still in his system. On second thoughts, maybe not; anything dangerous was no doubt neutralised when he resurrected.
As Ianto reaches the top of the steps, the cog door opens with its usual cacophony of sirens and flashing lights to admit Gwen and Tosh, returning from a tech retrieval.
“Hey, guys! We picked up lunch on the way back,” Gwen calls out cheerfully, holding up several bags from one of their favourite takeaways. Then she stops dead, staring at Ianto, dressed outlandishly and wielding a purple-splattered hockey stick. “Did we miss something?”
“Just Torchwood business as usual,” Ianto replies cheerfully, pushing his mask up to smile at the ladies. “Everything’s taken care of, but I wouldn’t go down in the autopsy bay if I were you. I’ll have a bit of cleaning up to do down there once Owen’s finished his examination of the remains.”
“Right. I’ll just take lunch down to the boardroom, shall I? You can join us when you’re ready.”
Ianto nods. “I’ll make coffee in a bit, just need to freshen up first.” He heads for the stairs to the lower levels while Jack makes for his office.
Coming up beside Gwen, Tosh whispers, “I think we should check out the CCTV footage, don’t you?”
“Definitely. Why does the fun stuff always happen when we’re not here to see it?”
The End