Fic: Hiding The Truth
Title: Hiding The Truth
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Tosh, Team, OCs.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There are always rumours about aliens in Cardiff, but Torchwood has them under control.
Word Count: 1039
Written For: Prompt 174 - Rumour at fandomweekly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
Rumours abound about aliens in Cardiff. Not people who have come to Britain illegally from other countries, but creatures from other worlds. Those who have caught glimpses of them say they’re hideous, like men but with heads somehow deformed, almost bald, wrinkled, their eyes set deep, and their mouths filled with sharp teeth that can rip out the throat of anyone foolish enough to get too close. They hide by day, lurk in the shadows of back alleys and abandoned buildings at night. No one knows how many there might be, but it’s believed that Torchwood exists to hunt them.
All of this is true, up to a point. There are indeed aliens in Cardiff, the savage creatures in their boilersuits are real, although there are more of them than most people would ever guess, and the majority live peacefully in the sewers, never bothering anyone. Some few venture to the surface by night, killing rats, and raiding dumpsters for food. Every so often one will go rogue and attack humans, and when that happens Torchwood deals with both attacker and victim, but most of the creatures, known as Weevils, just want to be left alone.
What people don’t realise, even those who believe the rumours regarding aliens and Torchwood, is that the Weevils are only the tip of the iceberg. They’re the most noticeable, thanks to their looks and relatively low level of sentience, but there are others who, through their own abilities or the application of extraterrestrial technology, are able to blend in and pass for human.
Like the Weevils, they’re beings from other worlds who have become stranded on earth, most of them through no fault of their own. Cardiff has become an involuntary dumping ground for strays and refugees from all over the universe, individuals unfortunate enough to have been dragged through the Rift in space and time that runs through the city.
Torchwood exists not only to deal with these victims of abduction, but with all the other flotsam and jetsam that arrives through the Rift. A lot of it is harmless junk, the discarded detritus of a thousand worlds, but some has the potential to do harm. Weapons, explosives, technology, information, things that can kill the unwary or damage the timelines, disrupting human development, and potentially changing the future. Then there are the aliens who try to invade, or enslave humanity, or steal resources, and the animals that are either predators, venomous, or otherwise toxic to the people of earth.
When looked at from that perspective, it’s surprising how few rumours about aliens are circulating in the city, and like everything else to do with aliens, that’s down to Torchwood.
In fact, the rumours about Weevils are allowed to continue because they serve as a deterrent, encouraging people to keep to well lit areas after dark, making them think twice about taking a shortcut through shadow-filled alleyways where danger might lurk unseen.
Other rumours get shut down fast, and incidents are covered up as quickly as possible, immediate action and the judicious application of retcon ensuring that even the people who saw something unnatural have no memory of doing so afterwards. It’s a difficult and largely thankless job, but someone has to do it, and the Torchwood team are experts.
“Jack, I just got a text from Hilary; apparently there are rumours on her street that the new people who’ve just moved into number forty-three might be aliens,” Ianto said, entering Jack’s office.
“And are they?” Jack leaned back in his seat, giving Ianto his full attention.
“No. I ran a check on them and they’re a family from Quebec, just moved here because the company the wife works for is opening an office here. I think it’s their accents that’re making people suspicious, but we need to deal with it before the rumourmongers turn their attention to any of their other neighbours.”
“How many residents do we have in that area?” Jack didn’t bother pulling the records up on his computer; Ianto knew all the details, having helped set up new identities for most of Cardiff’s alien population.
“Aside from Hilary herself? Two families on her street, and a third two streets away.”
Torchwood owned a number of properties throughout the city, and rented them out to those aliens able to fit in. Camouflage technology could hide a multitude of extra limbs, eyes, and antennae, as well as changing skin, hair, and eye colour to something earth normal. In her native form, Hilary was silvery blue and furry, but everybody saw her as an elderly woman with silver hair and a fondness for long, floral skirts, which conveniently helped to conceal her tail.
“Right, well, Hilary should be able to handle it herself; everyone knows what a gossip she is. Just give her the lowdown on her new neighbours and she’ll do the rest.”
Ianto nodded. “I’ll call her, maybe suggest she invites them for coffee, or something. She can show them around her garden. That way no one will wonder how she knows so much about the Fournier family.”
Jack nodded. “Good idea.”
No sooner had Ianto left than Tosh was tapping on Jack's door.
“Sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy.”
That wasn’t entirely true; Jack was browsing Reddit, marvelling at how ridiculous humans could be.
“What is it, Tosh?”
“Someone managed to photograph Myfanwy on one of her night flights and posted the pictures online. They aren’t very clear, and I’ve deleted them from the internet and his computer, but someone needs to make sure he doesn’t have copies saved somewhere.”
“Okay, give Ianto the address; he’ll handle it,” Jack said, pulling his phone from his pocket as a message came in. He read it quickly, jumping to his feet and reaching for his coat. “Grab your toolkit, would you? Seems Harold’s having some technical difficulties with his perception filter. If anyone gets a good look at him without it, we’ll have a problem. His third eye’s a bit conspicuous, and the horns don’t help. Can’t have his co-workers panicking.”
“That would be bad,” Tosh agreed. “I’ll meet you in the garage.”
Rumours. Whether spreading, controlling, or shutting them down, it was all business as usual for Torchwood.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Tosh, Team, OCs.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There are always rumours about aliens in Cardiff, but Torchwood has them under control.
Word Count: 1039
Written For: Prompt 174 - Rumour at fandomweekly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
Rumours abound about aliens in Cardiff. Not people who have come to Britain illegally from other countries, but creatures from other worlds. Those who have caught glimpses of them say they’re hideous, like men but with heads somehow deformed, almost bald, wrinkled, their eyes set deep, and their mouths filled with sharp teeth that can rip out the throat of anyone foolish enough to get too close. They hide by day, lurk in the shadows of back alleys and abandoned buildings at night. No one knows how many there might be, but it’s believed that Torchwood exists to hunt them.
All of this is true, up to a point. There are indeed aliens in Cardiff, the savage creatures in their boilersuits are real, although there are more of them than most people would ever guess, and the majority live peacefully in the sewers, never bothering anyone. Some few venture to the surface by night, killing rats, and raiding dumpsters for food. Every so often one will go rogue and attack humans, and when that happens Torchwood deals with both attacker and victim, but most of the creatures, known as Weevils, just want to be left alone.
What people don’t realise, even those who believe the rumours regarding aliens and Torchwood, is that the Weevils are only the tip of the iceberg. They’re the most noticeable, thanks to their looks and relatively low level of sentience, but there are others who, through their own abilities or the application of extraterrestrial technology, are able to blend in and pass for human.
Like the Weevils, they’re beings from other worlds who have become stranded on earth, most of them through no fault of their own. Cardiff has become an involuntary dumping ground for strays and refugees from all over the universe, individuals unfortunate enough to have been dragged through the Rift in space and time that runs through the city.
Torchwood exists not only to deal with these victims of abduction, but with all the other flotsam and jetsam that arrives through the Rift. A lot of it is harmless junk, the discarded detritus of a thousand worlds, but some has the potential to do harm. Weapons, explosives, technology, information, things that can kill the unwary or damage the timelines, disrupting human development, and potentially changing the future. Then there are the aliens who try to invade, or enslave humanity, or steal resources, and the animals that are either predators, venomous, or otherwise toxic to the people of earth.
When looked at from that perspective, it’s surprising how few rumours about aliens are circulating in the city, and like everything else to do with aliens, that’s down to Torchwood.
In fact, the rumours about Weevils are allowed to continue because they serve as a deterrent, encouraging people to keep to well lit areas after dark, making them think twice about taking a shortcut through shadow-filled alleyways where danger might lurk unseen.
Other rumours get shut down fast, and incidents are covered up as quickly as possible, immediate action and the judicious application of retcon ensuring that even the people who saw something unnatural have no memory of doing so afterwards. It’s a difficult and largely thankless job, but someone has to do it, and the Torchwood team are experts.
“Jack, I just got a text from Hilary; apparently there are rumours on her street that the new people who’ve just moved into number forty-three might be aliens,” Ianto said, entering Jack’s office.
“And are they?” Jack leaned back in his seat, giving Ianto his full attention.
“No. I ran a check on them and they’re a family from Quebec, just moved here because the company the wife works for is opening an office here. I think it’s their accents that’re making people suspicious, but we need to deal with it before the rumourmongers turn their attention to any of their other neighbours.”
“How many residents do we have in that area?” Jack didn’t bother pulling the records up on his computer; Ianto knew all the details, having helped set up new identities for most of Cardiff’s alien population.
“Aside from Hilary herself? Two families on her street, and a third two streets away.”
Torchwood owned a number of properties throughout the city, and rented them out to those aliens able to fit in. Camouflage technology could hide a multitude of extra limbs, eyes, and antennae, as well as changing skin, hair, and eye colour to something earth normal. In her native form, Hilary was silvery blue and furry, but everybody saw her as an elderly woman with silver hair and a fondness for long, floral skirts, which conveniently helped to conceal her tail.
“Right, well, Hilary should be able to handle it herself; everyone knows what a gossip she is. Just give her the lowdown on her new neighbours and she’ll do the rest.”
Ianto nodded. “I’ll call her, maybe suggest she invites them for coffee, or something. She can show them around her garden. That way no one will wonder how she knows so much about the Fournier family.”
Jack nodded. “Good idea.”
No sooner had Ianto left than Tosh was tapping on Jack's door.
“Sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy.”
That wasn’t entirely true; Jack was browsing Reddit, marvelling at how ridiculous humans could be.
“What is it, Tosh?”
“Someone managed to photograph Myfanwy on one of her night flights and posted the pictures online. They aren’t very clear, and I’ve deleted them from the internet and his computer, but someone needs to make sure he doesn’t have copies saved somewhere.”
“Okay, give Ianto the address; he’ll handle it,” Jack said, pulling his phone from his pocket as a message came in. He read it quickly, jumping to his feet and reaching for his coat. “Grab your toolkit, would you? Seems Harold’s having some technical difficulties with his perception filter. If anyone gets a good look at him without it, we’ll have a problem. His third eye’s a bit conspicuous, and the horns don’t help. Can’t have his co-workers panicking.”
“That would be bad,” Tosh agreed. “I’ll meet you in the garage.”
Rumours. Whether spreading, controlling, or shutting them down, it was all business as usual for Torchwood.
The End