Torchwood (Detroit)
After talking about it for ages, I have finally written a Torchwood: Detroit fic. I know. I can't believe it either.
Since I'm still not entirely sure what to do with it in terms of cross-posting and such (does it count as Torchwood fic when most of it revolves around events from Dr. Who as reacted to by a cast of OCs, with the only canon appearance coming late in the story, and being made by someone who's technically a guest star? Will people freak out that it's American, given the latest dramaz?), I'm just going to go ahead and post it up here for now, and then sort the rest out later. Yes, you get to be my guinea pigs. Aren't you lucky.
ETA BECAUSE I SUCK: ALSO ALSO ALSO! Much much thanks to kel_reiley for betaing multiple drafts of this and correcting Detroit geography whenever necessary and generally being made of lots and lots of awesome.
Anyway. Story time.
Title: Five Times It Didn't Matter (and One Time It Did)
Author: lookninas/ninjasnano
Beta Supreme: The Magnificent kel_reiley
Featuring: Miss Martha Jones
And Introducing: Eric Osterlander, Carmen Talimoro, Patrick Scully, Susie Emerson, Noor Ghannam, Samir Ghannam, Dr. Kai Kelty, Josiah "J" Fox, Toby Rutkowski, and Aloysius Darger.
Rating: R, for profanity, violence, and character death.
Spoilers for: Doctor Who: The Christmas Invasion, Army of Ghosts/Doomsday, The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky, The Stolen Earth/Journey's End, and The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords. Torchwood: Children of Earth and possibly Cyberwoman. Brief speculation as to Jack's whereabouts during the 1930s.
Summary: Torchwood Detroit can't always save the world. But that doesn't mean they don't keep trying.
Notes: During the flurry of speculation after RTD suggested we might see a Torchwood America, I jokingly suggested that the show should take place in Detroit. Somewhere along the line, it stopped being a joke.
December 2006: The Christmas Invasion
“I brought your boots up for you.”
The kid glanced at him over her shoulder, shrugged, turned back to studying the skyline. Her stocking feet dangled over the edge of the building, strands of her long dark hair lifted in the light breeze. Just watching her made Eric feel queasy. Hard to believe he’d been standing on that same edge just an hour before. If there hadn’t been someone to pull him back when he’d come to--
“Thanks,” the kid said. “You can leave them here.” One hand patted the roof next to her.
He kept his eyes fixed on that hand as he hunkered down next to her, careful not to look at the edge of the roof, or the long fall waiting just beyond it. She’d cut the fingertips off her gloves, probably so she could get a better grip on the pockmarked face of the building as she’d climbed.
Eric swallowed hard, and tried very hard not to think about it anymore.
“How come you’re still up here?” he asked. “I'm pretty sure there's no more mind-controlling aliens out there to make everyone climb to the top of the nearest tall building and threaten to jump.” She gave him a side-eyed glance, and he managed a smile. “Not today, anyway.”
“It’s nice up here,” the kid said, swinging her feet. Every word she spoke froze in the air, like a little cloud. “I like the view.” She turned and looked at him, studied him for a moment. She had to be at least a foot smaller than he was, but she made him feel tiny. “So,” she added. “Mind-controlling aliens? Not terrorists poisoning the water supply, mass hallucinations, biochemical warfare...”
“Nope. Mind-controlling aliens.”
“Huh.” The kid stared off into space for a moment. “But I guess this is the first time we’ve been attacked by aliens. Right?”
Eric had to cover his mouth to hide a grin. She was interrogating him. She was actually interrogating him. “I don’t know,” he said, when he thought he could keep a straight face. “You tell me. Anything else weird happen in this city?”
She snuck another little glance at him. “I. Well. That green thing that washed up on Belle Isle back in July and ate all those kids? That was toxic waste, right? Industrial runoff?”
“Nope. That was alien.” He grimaced at the memory. Hailey’d left for good after that one. Too hard for her, seeing all those little skeletons and weeping parents. Honestly, he was less surprised that she left than he was that the others had all stayed behind.
“But the giant bats at the Renaissance Center on Halloween; I mean, those were just some kind of prank or a publicity stunt, or...”
“They were alien. Actually very friendly, once you got past the whole giant bats thing..”
The kid finally abandoned all pretense at being cool, the investigative reporter squeezing answers from her unwilling subject, and just stared at him. “You’re kidding me,” she said. “You have to be kidding me.”
Eric shook his head. “No. If I was kidding you, I’d tell you that Milan Hejduk was an alien. But he’s not. Joe Sakic, on the other hand--”
“But... You can’t...” She sputtered helplessly for a few seconds before finally exploding. “I mean, you can’t just run around telling people these things! I mean, you’re not... You’re not allowed!”
Eric blinked at her. “Who’s gonna stop me?” he asked.
“How the hell should I know?” She was getting mad now. “Your boss, asshole. Whoever that is. Army, CIA, FBI... Those weird guys in the black uniforms with the red hats...”
“What, UNIT?” He laughed. “Nah, they’re chill. I mean, not that chill, but... you know, we cover Detroit so they don’t have to, and they leave us alone. And as far as the Army goes... I mean, we’re three geeks living in the basement of an abandoned train station. As long as we don’t start selling alien technology to rogue states or anything, I don’t really think anyone gives a crap what we do.
“Oh, no you don’t,” she said. Oh, yeah, he was pissing her off now. It was kind of funny. Almost cute, in a scary way. “You’re working for someone. You have to be working for someone..”
“Why? Why do I have to work for someone?”
She just gaped at him.
Eric sighed; it had been fun for a few minutes, but it was freezing and he didn’t like being this high off the ground, so he figured it was time to wrap this one up. “Look,” he said, “here’s the thing. Torchwood has been in Detroit for... decades. Since, like, the forties. At the time, we were the only ones who knew about the aliens and everything, right? And since we managed to keep everything pretty well under control, no one else ever realized that there was alien activity -- they thought it was all confined to the Windsor side of the river. By the time things started to slip, and the Army and UNIT and everyone realized we were here, Torchwood was pretty well established. Rather than fight for control, they figured it was best just to leave us here to do the work rather than invade our territory and get a fight going. So they help us and we help them and nobody gets in anyone’s way, and it’s for the best. Really, it’s not like they don’t have enough to do anyway. We’re not the only ones who get alien activity; this shit’s all over. Why would they want to fight aliens in Detroit when they do the same thing in Miami and not have to deal with the snow? I mean, we’re doing them a favor, really.”
It was funny, how disappointed she looked. “So... but... I mean, all the papers and everything -- they’re always saying that it’s drugs and mass hallucinations and practical jokes when it’s not, and -- That’s you, right? Keeping it all a secret; I mean...”
“Yeah, I don’t really know what that’s about,” Eric said. She scowled. “No, really. It’s not us. Maybe it’s the city? Or... I mean, most people out there--” He turned and looked out at the city. “You know, I’ve seen people come face to face with like... nine-foot tall aliens, purple tentacles, you know, and they just... Once it’s over, they just forget it. Like it never happened. I mean, you and me weren’t the only people on this roof, right? There were like twenty other people up here, standing on the edge, staring off into space. Or trying to get their loved ones back down to the ground.” He gestured at the empty roof. “So where’s everyone else? Gone. They just walked away.” He looked at her; her eyes were wide. “You’re the only one who stayed. And I bet you anything that you’ll be the only one to remember this in a week. If you even want to.”
“Is that what happened with you?” she asked. “You wanted to remember, so you did?”
He nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. Or more like... I don’t know. Like I couldn’t have forgotten even if I wanted to. Some of us are just... we’re ready. And some people aren’t, so we take care of things until they are, I guess.”
“Huh.”
They sat together on the roof for a few seconds, both of them quiet, looking out at the city. It was, Eric thought, kind of a nice view. Shame it had to be so freaking high off the ground.
The kid laughed, and Eric looked at her. She was still staring out at the city. “You know, I thought this was some massive conspiracy. And I was gonna force my way into your base and just... And all I had to do was ask?”
“Yep.” She gave him a look, and he grinned at her. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. Look, come down to the base.” He pushed himself back up to his feet and held out his hand. “You can look around, see what it’s like, and if it’s not cool enough for you, then you can go infiltrate UNIT or something. I hear it’s a lot harder to get into them. They’ve got, like, tests and things.”
She studied him for a long time, but didn’t stand up.
“Come on.” He waggled his fingers, like she was a cat and he was trying to lure her in. “Your feet have to be freezing by now. And I think Patrick was going to make waffles. You know, big Christmas breakfast and everything. Whipped cream. Whole nine yards. Really, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Finally, the kid smiled at him, held out her hand and let him haul her to her feet. “Torchwood, huh?” she asked. “What kind of a name is that?”
“It’s... It’s British. They had a sort of... like a satellite base over in Windsor, in the thirties. It didn’t last long. They were...” Eric grimaced. “They were doing things to their people. Things we wouldn’t do. A couple of them made it out, came across the bridge into Detroit, and decided to start over.” He thought about explaining more, but decided that since it was Christmas, he didn’t have to. “Anyway, what kind of a name is Carmen Talimoro?”
She was bent down, lacing her boots (probably trying to act nonchalant), and didn’t look up right away. “It’s Filipino,” she said, absently. Then it sank in, and she stared up at him. “Wait. You know my name?”
“You’ve been following me for three weeks, Carmen Talimoro. Yeah, I know your name.” He probably shouldn’t have laughed, but the look on her face was so funny that he couldn’t help it. She reminded him of an offended cat. “Come on, get your boots on. There’s broken glass on the stairs. Hey, did you really climb up the outside of the building?”
“Seemed safer than going up this way,” she muttered. But she followed him. “So why keep the name? If Torchwood was so bad. Why not change it to something else?”
Eric shrugged. “Why should we have to change our name if they’re the ones who fucked up? Torchwood doesn’t have to be a bad thing. We can change it. Make it better.” He pushed the access door open and ducked inside the building. “Watch your step. I think some of the stairs are starting to rot.”
She made a disgusted sound at that. But she kept right on following him.
*
December 2007 - Army of Ghosts/Doomsday
Patrick was standing in the middle of the deserted street, fiddling with some sort of scanner.
“How we looking, Paddy?” Eric called out.
“I’ve told you to stop calling me that,” Patrick said, pushing his glasses up with a sniff. His eyes never left the screen. Carmen sniggered. “And they’re close. Several of them. Maybe... two blocks away? A block and a half? They don’t move fast, but--”
“But we don’t have a lot of time,” Susie finished. She glanced nervously over her shoulder at the van, where Noor and Samir were making last minute adjustments to the Electro Gun. Susie dropped her voice and added, “Eric, are you sure about this?”
Carmen almost sympathized. Doing things at the last minute was fine from time to time, but not when it involved alien lightning guns, and especially not when there was an army of robots approaching. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to agree with Susie Emerson. Ever. “Are you kidding?” she asked. “Noor and Samir are great at killing robots. That’s why we hired them on in the first place. Or did you forget already? You know, the Rouge Complex, the newly mechanized work force, trading the E-Series in for an Odyssey because none of us can stand to drive Fords anymore...”
“Those were man-made,” Patrick said. Carmen raised her eybrow, and Eric snickered. “I mean... not the cars, you idiots, but the robots. Noor brought us the plans and everything. We knew exactly how to take them down. We don’t know anything about these ones. A week ago, we thought they were ghosts.”
Noor slid out of the van, reaching back so Samir could hand her the gun. “But they’re not ghosts,” she said. “They’re alive, more or less. Therefore, they should still run on some kind of electrical system. Just as the others did. Or, for that matter, just as you or I do.”
Carmen blinked. That almost sounded like a threat.
“Too much voltage will overload their circuitry,” Noor continued, her voice still as sweet and pleasant as ever. God, Noor was psychotic. “Fry them.” She smiled, stroked her gun lovingly.
Carmen folded her arms, studied the weapon. It was a clumsy, unwieldy thing, too long, too heavy, with all kinds of lumps and bumps protruding from the barrel. It might make a decent club, if you were strong enough to swing it, but it didn't look nearly cool enough to generate the kind of electrical field Noor claimed it could produce.
“I'm more than happy to run the first tests,” Noor added. “If no one else feels comfortable, of course.”
Carmen almost smiled. She and Noor didn’t have a lot in common, but they did both like guns. Granted, it tended to lead to them fighting over the biggest and shiniest ones, but still. It was more than she'd ever had in common with Susie or Patrick.
She raised both hands and stepped back. “You made it, Noor,” she said. “It’s only fair you get to try it out.”
Samir scrambled out of the van. “I made it too,” he protested. “And it could be dangerous, so--”
“So, as your older sister, I should be the one to use it first. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt, Samir.” Noor smiled, winningly. Samir scowled.
“Well, someone had better use it,” Patrick muttered. “They’re just about...”
Heavy footsteps sounded from down the street, metal boots clanging against the asphalt. Despite herself, Carmen shivered.
Eric peered out into the alleyway, then pulled back, blond hair falling into his face. “Right. Patrick, any other life forms out there?”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Two pigeons, one stray cat, and what might be a squirrel. Assuming that you meant humans, however, which you should have stated, there are none.” He pushed his glasses up again. Carmen thought, briefly, of knocking them off his face.
“Okay.” Eric looked back at Noor. “Ready?”
Noor wasn’t smiling now; she looked a little scared. “Yes,” she said, after a moment. “I’m ready.”
She stepped sideways out into the street, Samir close enough to be her shadow. Susie and Patrick were next, both of them holding their guns out and at the ready. Carmen glanced up at Eric, nodded, and the two of them took up rear guard positions.
Patrick had been telling the truth; there were no gawkers on the sidewalk, no rubberneckers peering out through glass shopfronts or watching from the safety of a fourth-floor window. Just the street, abandoned cars scattered on both sides, parked at crazy angles, doors left wide open in the rush to escape. Someone had left their engine running and the radio was still on; classical music floated down the street, the delicate notes drowned out time and again by the clash of metal on pavement. It made the whole thing even more surreal; an army of robots, marching down the middle of the street, buildings looming on either side of them like the walls of some cyber-canyon, and Torchwood waiting to meet them. Sergio Leone meets Metropolis, soundtrack by Robert Schumann.
And it was an army of robots; no denying that. Twenty, maybe? At least fifteen. Enough that they probably wouldn't be able to stop them all in time, if things went bad. Carmen settled her stance, both hands on her gun, as the robots came to a halt in the middle of the road.
One of them stepped forward. “You will identify yourself,” it said.
Noor, crazy as she was, just smiled, hefting her weapon into position. “My name is Noor Ghannam,” she said. “And this is my gun.”
“You will cease hostilities,” the robot said, as Noor calmly flipped a switch, turned a dial, then pressed a button. The ridiculously complicated weapon began to emit a high-pitched buzzing. “You will come with us.”
Noor looked back over her shoulder at the rest of the team, one hand tugging at the hem of her head scarf, pulling it down over her eyes. “I forgot to say: this is going to be pretty bright, so cover your eyes.”
“You will--”
Noor pulled the trigger.
The buzzing turned to a screech, and the street was filled with crackling blue light; Carmen pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her face and closed her eyes, hunkering down behind Patrick - she could still see the glow through her eyelids, like they weren't even shut.
“Oh God, oh God,” Susie chanted, latching on to Carmen's arm. “Oh God. Oh God.”
“Oh, shut up,” Carmen snapped, pulling back. She was trying to listen. Surely, if the gun did its job, the robots would make some kind of--
Then there it was: a clattering, scraping crash, like scrap metal falling into the crusher. The whine of the gun slowly faded off into silence; the glow was gone, leaving everything strangely dark. For a few moments, there was nothing but the String Quartet in A Major, floating down the street.
“Did it work?” Noor asked. “I thought I heard something fall. Was it them? Are they dead?”
Carmen peeled the hood away from her face, trying to blink away the lights still flickering in the corners of her vision. “Yeah,” she said, studying the sea of metal men sprawled out on the road in front of her. “Yeah, I think they are.” She glanced up at Noor, whose scarf was still draped loosely over her eyes, and waved one hand in front of her face. “What, did you blind yourself with that thing?”
Noor shook her head, gingerly pulling the fabric back. “I don't think it's permanent,” she said. “But the scarf is a bit sheer, and it was very bright.” She blinked rapidly, as if that would somehow clear everything up. “We need goggles. Dark ones.”
Samir had gone out to check on the robots. He prodded one, lifted another's arm, shook one by the helmet, then stood up and whooped. “You did it!” he shouted, punching his sister in the shoulder. Already over-weighted by the gun, she tottered, and Carmen had to catch her and hold her up. “The gun worked, Noor! It worked!”
Eric was examining the side of one of the buildings, brushing what looked like black soot off it. “Yeah, it worked,” he said. “A little too well. The electrical field must have been at least as wide as the street, maybe wider. If we try using this thing when there's any humans nearby...” He shook his head.
“We’ll have to draw them out,” Patrick said. He pulled out his PDA, tapped at it a few times. “It looks like they’ve taken over the old Packard plant; that’s where they’re taking people. If we go over there, make ourselves look threatening, they’ll come out in force to stop us. It’s not perfect, but...”
“But it’s not like we have time to go back to tinkering with Noor’s gun,” Carmen finished. “We still have those grenades, right?” The others looked at her. “What? Look, if we’re blowing things up right outside their door, they’ll come to see what we’re doing, right?”
“You and your grenades,” Eric sighed. Then he raked both hands through his hair, let out a sigh, and said, “All right. Let’s see how many of these fuckers we can take out. Noor, how’re your eyes?”
*
April 2009 - The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky
Noor leaned over J's shoulder, frowning at the screen. If J's UNIT contacts were telling the truth... “That would explain why the toxin levels are so much lower here than they are in the rest of the country,” she said.
J gave her a confused look, so she explained it a little further. “ATMOS doesn't come standard on most cars made for the American market, and with no mandatory emissions standards in the state of Michigan, people aren't going to pay extra to get it installed. If the only cars affected are cars with ATMOS--”
“Then we're safe,” Samir said, pushing his chair back from his workstation. “Awesome. Great work, everyone. Since there’s nothing else to finish, I'm going to--”
“You're going to sit your ass back down and keep working,” Kai said, folding her arms. “The case isn’t finished yet. Not until we figure out how to stop this.”
Patrick looked up from the samples that he was working with and snickered, but when Kai shot him a quelling look, he subsided. Samir just blinked for a few seconds, obviously shocked. Then he mumbled something, probably an apology, pulled his chair back in and obediently went back to work. It was unsettling; Samir had always mouthed off to Eric. But then, Kai wasn’t Eric. Eric was missing, had been for months now. Kai was their leader now. And as much as Noor missed Eric, she had to admit that Kai was better at keeping control of the team than Eric had ever been.
Kai made her way over to J's workstation, leaning in to look at the screen. Her bald head hovered close to Noor’s; their shoulders brushed. It was strangely distracting. “What do you think, J?” Kai asked, her voice quiet. “I don’t want to waste time on this if UNIT’s got it handled. And honestly, we could stand to take a day off.”
Her eyes met Noor’s for a second; for some reason, Noor couldn’t quite maintain eye contact. She found herself looking at the back of J’s head; he’d been growing his hair out ever since he came over from UNIT, and was now twisting it into short dreadlocks. She hadn’t thought he’d be the type for that.
“I don't know,” J said, twisting to look up at them both. He didn’t sound very optimistic. “Lou couldn't tell me much about what they were working on. She said they'd get it, but...”
“But they always say that,” Kai finished, frowning. “And it’s not always true.”
“If they can't figure this one out...” J shook his head. “Sooner or later, the atmosphere's going to reach lethal concentration. We might be the last to die, but that doesn't mean we won’t die anyway. I don't know if I want to take that chance.”
Kai nodded. “Better not.” She gave J a pat on the shoulder. “Keep pumping UNIT for information. I want to know what they're working on, see if we can't help out somehow.” Straightening up, she looked at Noor; this time, Noor managed to keep the eye contact for more than half a second.. “Go help Toby. See if the two of you can't get control of the ATMOS satellites.”
Noor nodded, trying to think of something to say. But Kai didn’t wait; she hurried away to go confer with Carmen and Susie, leaving Noor to stand there, feeling a little stranded and very confused.
When she managed to collect herself and look back at J, he was staring off into space, his eyes worried. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” J said, blinking as he came back to himself. “Yeah, I just... ” He shook his head. “It's not like I want to go back to UNIT or anything,” he said. “I like it here. I just... If I could actually be there, you know, actually hear what their plans are... But they don't tell me anything anymore. We should be working together on this. Not... keeping everything secret, never telling each other anything. It’s just... It’s just fucked up.”
There was nothing Noor could say to that. She gave his arm a squeeze, smiled for him, then turned off to go confer with Toby.
*
June 2009 - The Stolen Earth/Journey's End
“Can you see them?” J asked, watching Noor and Samir murmur quietly to each other at the mouth of the alley. He itched to lunge forward, drag them back into the shadows. Keep dragging until they were all safe in the Central again, locked down tight and waiting out the storm.
“They’re close now.” Kai’s voice, slightly tinny and metallic through the distortion of J’s Bluetooth, offered no comfort at all. She and Toby were several blocks away, watching them from the roof of the old Cass Tech building. In theory, it was far enough from the action that there would be two Torchwood operatives left even if this mission went badly wrong. To J, it was miles too close. They should be hiding out on one of the islands in the river, maybe, someplace the Daleks would never go. Or up north. They shouldn’t be here.
None of them should be here.
“Guess that’s my cue,” Samir said, cheerfully, and stepped out into the alleyway.
Noor instinctively moved to follow her brother, and J reached out, snagged her elbow with her hand. “Kai said we should stay under cover,” he hissed, pulling her back into his chest.
Noor laughed, pushed at him lightly. He didn’t let go, drawing her back into the safety of the shadows. “J,” she said, “don’t be silly. It’s perfectly--”
“J’s right,” Kai said. “The three of you need to stay down. And shut the hell up. Let Samir handle this.”
“Piece of cake,” Samir added. “You’ll get your turn later, Noor. This time, it’s all mine.”
J cringed. He shouldn’t have let them Samir go out into the street; he shouldn’t have let any of them come out here at all; they should be hiding in the Central, or somewhere up north; they should--
“Hello!” Samir’s voice echoed from the street, from the bluetooth in J’s ear. He sounded so cheerful. So careless. So completely fucking doomed. “Looking for me?”
“YOU WILL IDENTIFY YOURSELF!” The voice of the Dalek, distorted and halting, made J stiffen, clutch Noor a little tighter. He felt Carmen’s hand tugging at his sleeve and let her pull him further back, moving as quietly as he could. Noor had no choice but to go with them, her heels scuffing on the pavement as she was dragged along.
“Yeah, you know, I kind of left my documents at home, so...”
Why hadn’t J stopped this? He knew what the Daleks were. He knew they’d brought down Torchwood London. He knew that UNIT had never really figured out how the Doctor managed to stop them. Why did he think that Torchwood Detroit could ever succeed where so many others had failed? Why--
There was a crackle and then a shrill, high-pitched shrieking as the gun fired. A pulse of blinding light filled the alley. J wrapped his arms around Noor, bending protectively over her. Carmen buried her face in the back of his coat, using him to block out the light. The light died, but the sound continued; after a moment, there was another pulse, then another. Over and over again, until the shrieking of the gun’s batteries modulated lower, fading into a dull whine before falling silent. J held his breath.
Out in the street, Samir spoke. One word. “What...?”
“EXTERMINATE!”
Another flash of light, and Samir screamed; a short cry, soon cut off.
“Oh Jesus,” Kai murmured.
“No.” Noor’s voice was soft, almost calm, but it kept rising as she turned in J’s arms, tried to push her way free of his grip. “No, no, NO--”
Carmen reached up and slapped a hand over Noor’s mouth, but it was too late. There was no way in hell that the Daleks hadn’t heard her. J started dragging them both backwards, not taking his eyes from the mouth of the alley. The Daleks weren’t there yet; they moved slowly, but it was only a matter of time before--
“READINGS INDICATE HUMAN LIFE FORMS,” one of the Daleks announced.
“There’s a door about twenty feet back from you.” Toby’s voice on the bluetooth this time. “Looks like it leads into a restaurant. You might have to kick it down.”
J looked down at Carmen. “You’re our tank,” she whispered, grabbing Noor by the wrists. “Go get the door. We’ll be right behind you.”
He nodded, then bolted off down the alleyway. He could just hear Carmen dragging Noor along behind him.
“THE HUMANS WILL SHOW THEMSELVES.”
The door, such as it was, was made out of plywood, and didn’t look sturdy. Thank God. J paused for a moment, backing away as far as he could, then launched himself at the thing shoulder-first. The hinges gave instead of the door, and he tumbled inside awkwardly, coughing as he took in a mouthful of smoke. The grill was still running, hot oil bubbling in the fryers, and a fire alarm was shrieking right above them.
Carmen tripped over his legs and fell inside, dragging Noor down with her. Noor was still reaching back towards the alley, sobbing her brother’s name under her breath. Carmen pulled Noor up into a sitting position, wrapped the headscarf around her nose and mouth to protect her from the smoke, then lifted her up in a fireman’s carry. “Move, dammit!” she shouted, and J struggled to his feet and followed after her.
“They’re out of the street now.” Toby continued to spit directions into their ears. “You can get across. Hurry!”
Carmen was slowed down by her burden-- Noor was bigger than her, heavier, and J had to wonder that Carmen could carry Noor at all-- so it was easy for J to dodge around her, knocking over a table and sending someone’s abandoned dinner to the floor, as he raced towards the front of the restaurant. The door was mostly glass; he lifted an arm to cover up his face and floored it, crashing through and out into the street.
“Office building, three doors to your right.”
The three of them just barely made it inside the office building before the Daleks were in the street again, firing their lasers indiscriminately. Carmen collapsed inside the front door, one hand to her chest. “Jesus,” she croaked.
“We should go back,” Noor said, although she wasn’t trying to get away from them this time. “Samir’s not dead. He’s hurt, but he’s not-- we have to--”
J hadn’t turned to look at Samir’s body in the street while he dashed towards shelter. He hadn’t needed to. “He’s gone, Noor,” he said.
“He’s not--”
“He’s gone,” Kai said. Noor’s eyes welled up with tears. “We’re coming to get you, but you’ve got to keep moving. The offices are connected to the bank on the corner; get through there, and there’s another alley. That’s where we’ll be. But you gotta get moving, and you gotta do it now.”
J was the first to push himself to his feet. The Daleks’ laser fire was getting more accurate with every second; they’d be found soon. He grabbed Carmen’s outstretched hand and pulled her to her feet, then turned to Noor. Noor looked up at him, her eyes huge, face tear-streaked. “He’s gone,” she whispered.
“Come on,” he said, and held his hand out. She waved him aside, pushed herself up to her feet, and started running.
*
September 2009 - Children of Earth
“This is never gonna work,” Kai said, careful to keep her voice down. Max had finally fallen asleep again, with her grandmother keeping watch, and Kai didn’t want to disturb her. The kid had been through enough already. “All right, so England’s decided to hand over their kids. Some other countries are going to follow suit. But do they really think everyone’s going to? America, Canada... Sure, fine. Maybe China and India. Maybe. If we’re lucky. Most countries -- hell, they won’t even know what’s going on, and they’ll never believe the truth. It’s a waste of time. Even if compliance was the right thing--”
She was interrupted by a gasp from the sofa, where Max had been curled up on her grandmother’s lap. Toby was up from his chair in a second, racing over to his daughter; the others all stood, took a few steps, watched helplessly as Max clung to her father’s shirt, crying. “They killed him,” she sobbed. “The boy who ran, they killed him, they made his nose bleed and he screamed and they...” The rest of her words were buried in Toby’s shoulder; he stroked her blonde hair, rocking her back and forth.
Kai turned away, her eyes resting on Aloysius. Their newest recruit was still in his chair, seemingly unaware of anything but his computer screen. One long-fingered hand was pressed to his lips. Kai felt her heart sinking even further.
“Aly?” she asked, crossing over to him. She rested one hand on his shoulder; he covered her fingers with his, but didn’t speak. “Aly, what’s wrong?”
“Jack,” he whispered, his soft, high voice sounding strained. “Captain Harkness, he...” He pointed at the screen.
Toby’d managed to hack into the video feed from Thames House in London, where the alien had made its first appearance. Aly’d been glued to it ever since, his gangly body folded awkwardly into a desk chair, back hunched and long legs jammed underneath the workstation. It had to be uncomfortable, but Aly’d obviously been too excited at the prospect of seeing his old mentor to care. He’d been so sure that Captain Jack Harkness would figure it out, save them all. He’d almost made Kai believe it.
But now Captain Jack Harkness, swishy blue coat and all, was curled up on the floor of Thames House, hands still loosely draped over the man he’d brought in with him. Kai was pretty sure they weren’t asleep. “They killed your friend,” she said softly, squeezing Aly’s fingers. “I’m sorry.”
Aly glanced up at her; it looked like he was trying to smile, but couldn’t quite muster it. “Jack doesn’t die,” he said. “Or he does, but he doesn’t... He doesn’t stay dead. So he’ll be back.”
“Right,” Kai said, and tried not to sound as skeptical as she felt. If Captain Harkness really had brought Aly into Torchwood back in the 1930s, then he obviously had to have something weird going on, some alien... something keeping him alive and useful these many decades later. Still, though. Looking at the screen, all Kai saw was a dead man. Impossible to imagine him coming back.
Then Aly let go of her hand and reached for his mouse. The video of Thames House was replaced with a screen full of text, scrolling and updating faster than Kai could read it. Not that it would have mattered; she wasn’t a code breaker, and the global intelligence network didn’t exactly speak in plain English. Aly, however, could read it like it was his native tongue. “It’s not just Jack and his friend,” he said, after reading for a bit. “The 456... They flooded the whole building with some kind of virus or something, locked it down. Everyone who was inside...” Aly ducked his head, took a deep breath. “They’re all dead.”
J finally joined them, his broad shoulders sheltering them like a wall. “The 456 weren’t bluffing,” he said, quietly. “They’re going to wipe us out.”
“Not necessarily,” Noor said, still busy at her workstation, eyes never leaving her computer’s screen. “Thames House is an enclosed space, and the 456 already had access to it. All they really had to do is lock it down and release the virus into the air conditioning systems. It wouldn’t even require that much. Infecting the entire human race... it’s not even comparable.” She paused, glanced over her shoulder at Aly, and gave him a small, apologetic smile. “Not that it isn’t terrible, what they’ve done.”
Aly nodded back at her, quietly accepting the apology. “No, you’re right,” he said. “It’s... It almost seems as though it’s more of a scare tactic. Thames House is a relatively high-profile target, at least for the British, and it’s full of government employees. And no children,” he added, glancing over at Toby and Max and biting his lip. “So the 456 aren’t risking anything.”
“But still,” J said, folding his arms. Sometimes Kai wondered if he ever believed anything he said, or if he just played devil’s advocate because he thought they needed one. “Say we’re right -- they can’t kill us all, fine. They can still hit out at specific targets, until we finally give up and give them what they want. People are going to die over this.”
“They’ll die whether or not we give in, though.” Noor spun her chair around, turning away from her computer. “Word’s already started to filter through to the militia groups; they’re arming themselves as we speak. If the government really does start to come after our children, they’ll have to fight for them.”
“Good,” Aly said, quietly. His eyes were still on Toby and Max; he didn’t seem to notice or care that the others were all staring at him. “We shouldn’t let them take our children. It’s... it’s wrong.”
“You’re saying we should go to war against our own government?” J asked, disbelief in his voice. Kai could appreciate the sentiment-- Aly was Carmen’s replacement in some ways, but she’d never expected him to share in her revolutionary streak.
When Aly looked up, his face was as scared as it was defiant. “They’re going to war against us,” he replied, swallowing hard. “We have the right to fight back.”
“Aly’s right,” Noor said, quietly. “Think about it, J. If they need kids to send to the 456, where’s the first place they’re going to look? You know how people see Detroit. We’re poor, all of our kids drop out of school or fail, there’s no jobs, there’s no...”
“We’re the bottom ten percent,” Kai finished. Her eyes were drawn, inexorably, back to Max and Toby. Christ, most politicians would probably look at that kid and think they were doing her a favor by handing her over to the 456. They didn’t know; they’d never know. “They’re gonna come for our kids, J. And people are going to fight back. And Detroit’s going to burn down for good, unless we can take control of the situation now.”
“You really think people are going to listen to us?” J asked. “Most of them don’t even know who we are, Kai. They’ve got no reason to do what we tell them.”
“I know.” Kai said. “But we still have to try.” She took a deep breath before adding, “If you’re not sure, J... I’m not going to force you to stick with us through this. I’m sure UNIT would be glad to have you back.”
“Fuck UNIT.” J stopped, like he’d surprised himself, then let out a shaky laugh. “Fuck UNIT,” he said again. “I’m with you, Kai.”
Kai laughed too, more out of relief than anything else. “Good,” she said. “‘Cause we’ve got work to do.”
*
August 2008 -- The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords [Timeline Erased]
They picked their way through the rubble in the streets, glancing nervously over their shoulders. It was long past curfew, and the city was quiet. Now and then, a patrol stalked down the road, forcing Martha and her escort, J, to scramble for a hiding place. Lucky for them there were so many burnt-out buildings in this part of the city.
Lucky.
Honestly, she was surprised there was anything left at this point. The news from Detroit was always the same: Torchwood had blown up one of Saxon’s factories, so Saxon had burnt down a safehouse in retaliation. Between the two of them, it was a miracle that there were any buildings left standing, let alone something as prominent as Michigan Central Station. But there it was, looming over them.
“Come on,” J mumured, taking her by the arm.
The two of them scrambled across the street, hunched down to escape detection. As soon as they’d stepped up on the curb, dark figures were detaching themselves from the shadows, following after them. Martha froze up momentarily, fearing capture.
“Don’t stop!” someone hissed, grabbing her other arm. The shadowy figures crowded around, like a human shield wrapped around Martha and J, propelling them inexorably towards the building. “Hurry up, hurry up--”
“Careful,” someone else added. “Stairs.”
They were far enough from the street now that the streetlights couldn’t reach them; Martha stumbled in the darkness as she tried to feel her way up the steps. Hands reached out to catch her, a voice whispered guidance in her ear. “Three more. Two. One. Door’s on your left. There’s broken glass here, so be careful.”
“You must be Torchwood,” she muttered, as she was guided around a dark shape that might have been a bench.
“And you’re Martha Jones.” As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she started to make out the shape of her mysterious guide -- male, judging by his voice, but not much taller than she was. Scrawny. “You really think you can take Saxon out?”
“Maybe,” she said, as they were steered down a narrow hallway. “Depends on you, really.”
“Oh yeah?” her guide asked.
“Flashlights,” someone said from the other side of the huddle. Martha barely had time to close her eyes before the hallway was filled with the light from several torches, bright after the almost-total darkness of the building’s main room.
“Yeah,” she said, as the group started to move again, taking the opportunity to get a good look at the people surrounding her. J was at her right hand, like he’d been since they met up in Windsor, tall and broad-shouldered, clad in UNIT black. Up ahead of him was a slender figure, clad in dirty fatigues; the build made Martha think their leader was a woman, but the clean-shaven head made her question that a little. Behind them, constantly looking over his shoulder, was a man with a woman’s black scarf wrapped around his neck. He touched it constantly, as if for reassurance. It made Martha wonder about the woman who’d once owned that scarf. Who she’d been. How she’d died.
On Martha’s left, the scrawny man was walking along with his torch trained on the floor, lighting the path ahead of them. He didn’t look like much. Still, she supposed he didn’t need to be particularly imposing to bend computers to his will, and that was what she needed.
“Think you can hack into the Archangel Network, get control of the satellites?” she asked him. “I need them to... It’s complicated. But I need them.”
Her guide turned to her, flashed a grin. On second thought, he wasn’t bad-looking, really; dark hair, with a bit of a beard growing in. She’d always kind of liked that look on a man. “Cryptic,” he said. “I’m tempted to say I won’t do it until you tell me why you need it done. But...” He shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve always wanted to take control of a major telecommunications network.”
“You sound confident,” Martha said. “That sure you can do it, are you?”
“Shit, yeah,” the man said. “Might take a couple of days, but I’ll get you your satellites, don’t worry about that. And then you can do whatever you want to ‘em. Except getting the local networks. Can’t get those with satellite.” He cackled at his own joke.
Martha laughed too, more out of politeness than anything else. Then a bit of graffiti caught her eye, and she stopped. It looked like something she’d seen before, elsewhere in the city. Some sort of message, maybe? The Doctor’d said something about that, about graffiti as a message...
Hang on,” she murmured, when her guide tried to pull her onwards. “That. What does that say?” She tapped the graffiti to point it out for him.
“Huh?” Her guide obligingly turned the torch back to the wall. “Oh, it’s the city motto. ‘We hope for better things; it will rise from the ashes.’”
Resurget cineribus. Martha ran her hands over the letters, thoughtful. As messages went, it wasn’t bad. “It will, will it?”
Her guide just laughed. “You kidding me?” he asked, taking her by the elbow and leading her down a flight of stairs. “This is Detroit. It’s what we do.”
“Good,” she said. “That’s exactly what I need.”
“Then you’re in the right place.” Her guide gave her one more smile, before turning his attention back to the path ahead of them.
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Since I'm still not entirely sure what to do with it in terms of cross-posting and such (does it count as Torchwood fic when most of it revolves around events from Dr. Who as reacted to by a cast of OCs, with the only canon appearance coming late in the story, and being made by someone who's technically a guest star? Will people freak out that it's American, given the latest dramaz?), I'm just going to go ahead and post it up here for now, and then sort the rest out later. Yes, you get to be my guinea pigs. Aren't you lucky.
ETA BECAUSE I SUCK: ALSO ALSO ALSO! Much much thanks to kel_reiley for betaing multiple drafts of this and correcting Detroit geography whenever necessary and generally being made of lots and lots of awesome.
Anyway. Story time.
Title: Five Times It Didn't Matter (and One Time It Did)
Author: lookninas/ninjasnano
Beta Supreme: The Magnificent kel_reiley
Featuring: Miss Martha Jones
And Introducing: Eric Osterlander, Carmen Talimoro, Patrick Scully, Susie Emerson, Noor Ghannam, Samir Ghannam, Dr. Kai Kelty, Josiah "J" Fox, Toby Rutkowski, and Aloysius Darger.
Rating: R, for profanity, violence, and character death.
Spoilers for: Doctor Who: The Christmas Invasion, Army of Ghosts/Doomsday, The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky, The Stolen Earth/Journey's End, and The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords. Torchwood: Children of Earth and possibly Cyberwoman. Brief speculation as to Jack's whereabouts during the 1930s.
Summary: Torchwood Detroit can't always save the world. But that doesn't mean they don't keep trying.
Notes: During the flurry of speculation after RTD suggested we might see a Torchwood America, I jokingly suggested that the show should take place in Detroit. Somewhere along the line, it stopped being a joke.
December 2006: The Christmas Invasion
“I brought your boots up for you.”
The kid glanced at him over her shoulder, shrugged, turned back to studying the skyline. Her stocking feet dangled over the edge of the building, strands of her long dark hair lifted in the light breeze. Just watching her made Eric feel queasy. Hard to believe he’d been standing on that same edge just an hour before. If there hadn’t been someone to pull him back when he’d come to--
“Thanks,” the kid said. “You can leave them here.” One hand patted the roof next to her.
He kept his eyes fixed on that hand as he hunkered down next to her, careful not to look at the edge of the roof, or the long fall waiting just beyond it. She’d cut the fingertips off her gloves, probably so she could get a better grip on the pockmarked face of the building as she’d climbed.
Eric swallowed hard, and tried very hard not to think about it anymore.
“How come you’re still up here?” he asked. “I'm pretty sure there's no more mind-controlling aliens out there to make everyone climb to the top of the nearest tall building and threaten to jump.” She gave him a side-eyed glance, and he managed a smile. “Not today, anyway.”
“It’s nice up here,” the kid said, swinging her feet. Every word she spoke froze in the air, like a little cloud. “I like the view.” She turned and looked at him, studied him for a moment. She had to be at least a foot smaller than he was, but she made him feel tiny. “So,” she added. “Mind-controlling aliens? Not terrorists poisoning the water supply, mass hallucinations, biochemical warfare...”
“Nope. Mind-controlling aliens.”
“Huh.” The kid stared off into space for a moment. “But I guess this is the first time we’ve been attacked by aliens. Right?”
Eric had to cover his mouth to hide a grin. She was interrogating him. She was actually interrogating him. “I don’t know,” he said, when he thought he could keep a straight face. “You tell me. Anything else weird happen in this city?”
She snuck another little glance at him. “I. Well. That green thing that washed up on Belle Isle back in July and ate all those kids? That was toxic waste, right? Industrial runoff?”
“Nope. That was alien.” He grimaced at the memory. Hailey’d left for good after that one. Too hard for her, seeing all those little skeletons and weeping parents. Honestly, he was less surprised that she left than he was that the others had all stayed behind.
“But the giant bats at the Renaissance Center on Halloween; I mean, those were just some kind of prank or a publicity stunt, or...”
“They were alien. Actually very friendly, once you got past the whole giant bats thing..”
The kid finally abandoned all pretense at being cool, the investigative reporter squeezing answers from her unwilling subject, and just stared at him. “You’re kidding me,” she said. “You have to be kidding me.”
Eric shook his head. “No. If I was kidding you, I’d tell you that Milan Hejduk was an alien. But he’s not. Joe Sakic, on the other hand--”
“But... You can’t...” She sputtered helplessly for a few seconds before finally exploding. “I mean, you can’t just run around telling people these things! I mean, you’re not... You’re not allowed!”
Eric blinked at her. “Who’s gonna stop me?” he asked.
“How the hell should I know?” She was getting mad now. “Your boss, asshole. Whoever that is. Army, CIA, FBI... Those weird guys in the black uniforms with the red hats...”
“What, UNIT?” He laughed. “Nah, they’re chill. I mean, not that chill, but... you know, we cover Detroit so they don’t have to, and they leave us alone. And as far as the Army goes... I mean, we’re three geeks living in the basement of an abandoned train station. As long as we don’t start selling alien technology to rogue states or anything, I don’t really think anyone gives a crap what we do.
“Oh, no you don’t,” she said. Oh, yeah, he was pissing her off now. It was kind of funny. Almost cute, in a scary way. “You’re working for someone. You have to be working for someone..”
“Why? Why do I have to work for someone?”
She just gaped at him.
Eric sighed; it had been fun for a few minutes, but it was freezing and he didn’t like being this high off the ground, so he figured it was time to wrap this one up. “Look,” he said, “here’s the thing. Torchwood has been in Detroit for... decades. Since, like, the forties. At the time, we were the only ones who knew about the aliens and everything, right? And since we managed to keep everything pretty well under control, no one else ever realized that there was alien activity -- they thought it was all confined to the Windsor side of the river. By the time things started to slip, and the Army and UNIT and everyone realized we were here, Torchwood was pretty well established. Rather than fight for control, they figured it was best just to leave us here to do the work rather than invade our territory and get a fight going. So they help us and we help them and nobody gets in anyone’s way, and it’s for the best. Really, it’s not like they don’t have enough to do anyway. We’re not the only ones who get alien activity; this shit’s all over. Why would they want to fight aliens in Detroit when they do the same thing in Miami and not have to deal with the snow? I mean, we’re doing them a favor, really.”
It was funny, how disappointed she looked. “So... but... I mean, all the papers and everything -- they’re always saying that it’s drugs and mass hallucinations and practical jokes when it’s not, and -- That’s you, right? Keeping it all a secret; I mean...”
“Yeah, I don’t really know what that’s about,” Eric said. She scowled. “No, really. It’s not us. Maybe it’s the city? Or... I mean, most people out there--” He turned and looked out at the city. “You know, I’ve seen people come face to face with like... nine-foot tall aliens, purple tentacles, you know, and they just... Once it’s over, they just forget it. Like it never happened. I mean, you and me weren’t the only people on this roof, right? There were like twenty other people up here, standing on the edge, staring off into space. Or trying to get their loved ones back down to the ground.” He gestured at the empty roof. “So where’s everyone else? Gone. They just walked away.” He looked at her; her eyes were wide. “You’re the only one who stayed. And I bet you anything that you’ll be the only one to remember this in a week. If you even want to.”
“Is that what happened with you?” she asked. “You wanted to remember, so you did?”
He nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. Or more like... I don’t know. Like I couldn’t have forgotten even if I wanted to. Some of us are just... we’re ready. And some people aren’t, so we take care of things until they are, I guess.”
“Huh.”
They sat together on the roof for a few seconds, both of them quiet, looking out at the city. It was, Eric thought, kind of a nice view. Shame it had to be so freaking high off the ground.
The kid laughed, and Eric looked at her. She was still staring out at the city. “You know, I thought this was some massive conspiracy. And I was gonna force my way into your base and just... And all I had to do was ask?”
“Yep.” She gave him a look, and he grinned at her. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. Look, come down to the base.” He pushed himself back up to his feet and held out his hand. “You can look around, see what it’s like, and if it’s not cool enough for you, then you can go infiltrate UNIT or something. I hear it’s a lot harder to get into them. They’ve got, like, tests and things.”
She studied him for a long time, but didn’t stand up.
“Come on.” He waggled his fingers, like she was a cat and he was trying to lure her in. “Your feet have to be freezing by now. And I think Patrick was going to make waffles. You know, big Christmas breakfast and everything. Whipped cream. Whole nine yards. Really, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Finally, the kid smiled at him, held out her hand and let him haul her to her feet. “Torchwood, huh?” she asked. “What kind of a name is that?”
“It’s... It’s British. They had a sort of... like a satellite base over in Windsor, in the thirties. It didn’t last long. They were...” Eric grimaced. “They were doing things to their people. Things we wouldn’t do. A couple of them made it out, came across the bridge into Detroit, and decided to start over.” He thought about explaining more, but decided that since it was Christmas, he didn’t have to. “Anyway, what kind of a name is Carmen Talimoro?”
She was bent down, lacing her boots (probably trying to act nonchalant), and didn’t look up right away. “It’s Filipino,” she said, absently. Then it sank in, and she stared up at him. “Wait. You know my name?”
“You’ve been following me for three weeks, Carmen Talimoro. Yeah, I know your name.” He probably shouldn’t have laughed, but the look on her face was so funny that he couldn’t help it. She reminded him of an offended cat. “Come on, get your boots on. There’s broken glass on the stairs. Hey, did you really climb up the outside of the building?”
“Seemed safer than going up this way,” she muttered. But she followed him. “So why keep the name? If Torchwood was so bad. Why not change it to something else?”
Eric shrugged. “Why should we have to change our name if they’re the ones who fucked up? Torchwood doesn’t have to be a bad thing. We can change it. Make it better.” He pushed the access door open and ducked inside the building. “Watch your step. I think some of the stairs are starting to rot.”
She made a disgusted sound at that. But she kept right on following him.
*
December 2007 - Army of Ghosts/Doomsday
Patrick was standing in the middle of the deserted street, fiddling with some sort of scanner.
“How we looking, Paddy?” Eric called out.
“I’ve told you to stop calling me that,” Patrick said, pushing his glasses up with a sniff. His eyes never left the screen. Carmen sniggered. “And they’re close. Several of them. Maybe... two blocks away? A block and a half? They don’t move fast, but--”
“But we don’t have a lot of time,” Susie finished. She glanced nervously over her shoulder at the van, where Noor and Samir were making last minute adjustments to the Electro Gun. Susie dropped her voice and added, “Eric, are you sure about this?”
Carmen almost sympathized. Doing things at the last minute was fine from time to time, but not when it involved alien lightning guns, and especially not when there was an army of robots approaching. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to agree with Susie Emerson. Ever. “Are you kidding?” she asked. “Noor and Samir are great at killing robots. That’s why we hired them on in the first place. Or did you forget already? You know, the Rouge Complex, the newly mechanized work force, trading the E-Series in for an Odyssey because none of us can stand to drive Fords anymore...”
“Those were man-made,” Patrick said. Carmen raised her eybrow, and Eric snickered. “I mean... not the cars, you idiots, but the robots. Noor brought us the plans and everything. We knew exactly how to take them down. We don’t know anything about these ones. A week ago, we thought they were ghosts.”
Noor slid out of the van, reaching back so Samir could hand her the gun. “But they’re not ghosts,” she said. “They’re alive, more or less. Therefore, they should still run on some kind of electrical system. Just as the others did. Or, for that matter, just as you or I do.”
Carmen blinked. That almost sounded like a threat.
“Too much voltage will overload their circuitry,” Noor continued, her voice still as sweet and pleasant as ever. God, Noor was psychotic. “Fry them.” She smiled, stroked her gun lovingly.
Carmen folded her arms, studied the weapon. It was a clumsy, unwieldy thing, too long, too heavy, with all kinds of lumps and bumps protruding from the barrel. It might make a decent club, if you were strong enough to swing it, but it didn't look nearly cool enough to generate the kind of electrical field Noor claimed it could produce.
“I'm more than happy to run the first tests,” Noor added. “If no one else feels comfortable, of course.”
Carmen almost smiled. She and Noor didn’t have a lot in common, but they did both like guns. Granted, it tended to lead to them fighting over the biggest and shiniest ones, but still. It was more than she'd ever had in common with Susie or Patrick.
She raised both hands and stepped back. “You made it, Noor,” she said. “It’s only fair you get to try it out.”
Samir scrambled out of the van. “I made it too,” he protested. “And it could be dangerous, so--”
“So, as your older sister, I should be the one to use it first. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt, Samir.” Noor smiled, winningly. Samir scowled.
“Well, someone had better use it,” Patrick muttered. “They’re just about...”
Heavy footsteps sounded from down the street, metal boots clanging against the asphalt. Despite herself, Carmen shivered.
Eric peered out into the alleyway, then pulled back, blond hair falling into his face. “Right. Patrick, any other life forms out there?”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Two pigeons, one stray cat, and what might be a squirrel. Assuming that you meant humans, however, which you should have stated, there are none.” He pushed his glasses up again. Carmen thought, briefly, of knocking them off his face.
“Okay.” Eric looked back at Noor. “Ready?”
Noor wasn’t smiling now; she looked a little scared. “Yes,” she said, after a moment. “I’m ready.”
She stepped sideways out into the street, Samir close enough to be her shadow. Susie and Patrick were next, both of them holding their guns out and at the ready. Carmen glanced up at Eric, nodded, and the two of them took up rear guard positions.
Patrick had been telling the truth; there were no gawkers on the sidewalk, no rubberneckers peering out through glass shopfronts or watching from the safety of a fourth-floor window. Just the street, abandoned cars scattered on both sides, parked at crazy angles, doors left wide open in the rush to escape. Someone had left their engine running and the radio was still on; classical music floated down the street, the delicate notes drowned out time and again by the clash of metal on pavement. It made the whole thing even more surreal; an army of robots, marching down the middle of the street, buildings looming on either side of them like the walls of some cyber-canyon, and Torchwood waiting to meet them. Sergio Leone meets Metropolis, soundtrack by Robert Schumann.
And it was an army of robots; no denying that. Twenty, maybe? At least fifteen. Enough that they probably wouldn't be able to stop them all in time, if things went bad. Carmen settled her stance, both hands on her gun, as the robots came to a halt in the middle of the road.
One of them stepped forward. “You will identify yourself,” it said.
Noor, crazy as she was, just smiled, hefting her weapon into position. “My name is Noor Ghannam,” she said. “And this is my gun.”
“You will cease hostilities,” the robot said, as Noor calmly flipped a switch, turned a dial, then pressed a button. The ridiculously complicated weapon began to emit a high-pitched buzzing. “You will come with us.”
Noor looked back over her shoulder at the rest of the team, one hand tugging at the hem of her head scarf, pulling it down over her eyes. “I forgot to say: this is going to be pretty bright, so cover your eyes.”
“You will--”
Noor pulled the trigger.
The buzzing turned to a screech, and the street was filled with crackling blue light; Carmen pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her face and closed her eyes, hunkering down behind Patrick - she could still see the glow through her eyelids, like they weren't even shut.
“Oh God, oh God,” Susie chanted, latching on to Carmen's arm. “Oh God. Oh God.”
“Oh, shut up,” Carmen snapped, pulling back. She was trying to listen. Surely, if the gun did its job, the robots would make some kind of--
Then there it was: a clattering, scraping crash, like scrap metal falling into the crusher. The whine of the gun slowly faded off into silence; the glow was gone, leaving everything strangely dark. For a few moments, there was nothing but the String Quartet in A Major, floating down the street.
“Did it work?” Noor asked. “I thought I heard something fall. Was it them? Are they dead?”
Carmen peeled the hood away from her face, trying to blink away the lights still flickering in the corners of her vision. “Yeah,” she said, studying the sea of metal men sprawled out on the road in front of her. “Yeah, I think they are.” She glanced up at Noor, whose scarf was still draped loosely over her eyes, and waved one hand in front of her face. “What, did you blind yourself with that thing?”
Noor shook her head, gingerly pulling the fabric back. “I don't think it's permanent,” she said. “But the scarf is a bit sheer, and it was very bright.” She blinked rapidly, as if that would somehow clear everything up. “We need goggles. Dark ones.”
Samir had gone out to check on the robots. He prodded one, lifted another's arm, shook one by the helmet, then stood up and whooped. “You did it!” he shouted, punching his sister in the shoulder. Already over-weighted by the gun, she tottered, and Carmen had to catch her and hold her up. “The gun worked, Noor! It worked!”
Eric was examining the side of one of the buildings, brushing what looked like black soot off it. “Yeah, it worked,” he said. “A little too well. The electrical field must have been at least as wide as the street, maybe wider. If we try using this thing when there's any humans nearby...” He shook his head.
“We’ll have to draw them out,” Patrick said. He pulled out his PDA, tapped at it a few times. “It looks like they’ve taken over the old Packard plant; that’s where they’re taking people. If we go over there, make ourselves look threatening, they’ll come out in force to stop us. It’s not perfect, but...”
“But it’s not like we have time to go back to tinkering with Noor’s gun,” Carmen finished. “We still have those grenades, right?” The others looked at her. “What? Look, if we’re blowing things up right outside their door, they’ll come to see what we’re doing, right?”
“You and your grenades,” Eric sighed. Then he raked both hands through his hair, let out a sigh, and said, “All right. Let’s see how many of these fuckers we can take out. Noor, how’re your eyes?”
*
April 2009 - The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky
Noor leaned over J's shoulder, frowning at the screen. If J's UNIT contacts were telling the truth... “That would explain why the toxin levels are so much lower here than they are in the rest of the country,” she said.
J gave her a confused look, so she explained it a little further. “ATMOS doesn't come standard on most cars made for the American market, and with no mandatory emissions standards in the state of Michigan, people aren't going to pay extra to get it installed. If the only cars affected are cars with ATMOS--”
“Then we're safe,” Samir said, pushing his chair back from his workstation. “Awesome. Great work, everyone. Since there’s nothing else to finish, I'm going to--”
“You're going to sit your ass back down and keep working,” Kai said, folding her arms. “The case isn’t finished yet. Not until we figure out how to stop this.”
Patrick looked up from the samples that he was working with and snickered, but when Kai shot him a quelling look, he subsided. Samir just blinked for a few seconds, obviously shocked. Then he mumbled something, probably an apology, pulled his chair back in and obediently went back to work. It was unsettling; Samir had always mouthed off to Eric. But then, Kai wasn’t Eric. Eric was missing, had been for months now. Kai was their leader now. And as much as Noor missed Eric, she had to admit that Kai was better at keeping control of the team than Eric had ever been.
Kai made her way over to J's workstation, leaning in to look at the screen. Her bald head hovered close to Noor’s; their shoulders brushed. It was strangely distracting. “What do you think, J?” Kai asked, her voice quiet. “I don’t want to waste time on this if UNIT’s got it handled. And honestly, we could stand to take a day off.”
Her eyes met Noor’s for a second; for some reason, Noor couldn’t quite maintain eye contact. She found herself looking at the back of J’s head; he’d been growing his hair out ever since he came over from UNIT, and was now twisting it into short dreadlocks. She hadn’t thought he’d be the type for that.
“I don't know,” J said, twisting to look up at them both. He didn’t sound very optimistic. “Lou couldn't tell me much about what they were working on. She said they'd get it, but...”
“But they always say that,” Kai finished, frowning. “And it’s not always true.”
“If they can't figure this one out...” J shook his head. “Sooner or later, the atmosphere's going to reach lethal concentration. We might be the last to die, but that doesn't mean we won’t die anyway. I don't know if I want to take that chance.”
Kai nodded. “Better not.” She gave J a pat on the shoulder. “Keep pumping UNIT for information. I want to know what they're working on, see if we can't help out somehow.” Straightening up, she looked at Noor; this time, Noor managed to keep the eye contact for more than half a second.. “Go help Toby. See if the two of you can't get control of the ATMOS satellites.”
Noor nodded, trying to think of something to say. But Kai didn’t wait; she hurried away to go confer with Carmen and Susie, leaving Noor to stand there, feeling a little stranded and very confused.
When she managed to collect herself and look back at J, he was staring off into space, his eyes worried. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” J said, blinking as he came back to himself. “Yeah, I just... ” He shook his head. “It's not like I want to go back to UNIT or anything,” he said. “I like it here. I just... If I could actually be there, you know, actually hear what their plans are... But they don't tell me anything anymore. We should be working together on this. Not... keeping everything secret, never telling each other anything. It’s just... It’s just fucked up.”
There was nothing Noor could say to that. She gave his arm a squeeze, smiled for him, then turned off to go confer with Toby.
*
June 2009 - The Stolen Earth/Journey's End
“Can you see them?” J asked, watching Noor and Samir murmur quietly to each other at the mouth of the alley. He itched to lunge forward, drag them back into the shadows. Keep dragging until they were all safe in the Central again, locked down tight and waiting out the storm.
“They’re close now.” Kai’s voice, slightly tinny and metallic through the distortion of J’s Bluetooth, offered no comfort at all. She and Toby were several blocks away, watching them from the roof of the old Cass Tech building. In theory, it was far enough from the action that there would be two Torchwood operatives left even if this mission went badly wrong. To J, it was miles too close. They should be hiding out on one of the islands in the river, maybe, someplace the Daleks would never go. Or up north. They shouldn’t be here.
None of them should be here.
“Guess that’s my cue,” Samir said, cheerfully, and stepped out into the alleyway.
Noor instinctively moved to follow her brother, and J reached out, snagged her elbow with her hand. “Kai said we should stay under cover,” he hissed, pulling her back into his chest.
Noor laughed, pushed at him lightly. He didn’t let go, drawing her back into the safety of the shadows. “J,” she said, “don’t be silly. It’s perfectly--”
“J’s right,” Kai said. “The three of you need to stay down. And shut the hell up. Let Samir handle this.”
“Piece of cake,” Samir added. “You’ll get your turn later, Noor. This time, it’s all mine.”
J cringed. He shouldn’t have let them Samir go out into the street; he shouldn’t have let any of them come out here at all; they should be hiding in the Central, or somewhere up north; they should--
“Hello!” Samir’s voice echoed from the street, from the bluetooth in J’s ear. He sounded so cheerful. So careless. So completely fucking doomed. “Looking for me?”
“YOU WILL IDENTIFY YOURSELF!” The voice of the Dalek, distorted and halting, made J stiffen, clutch Noor a little tighter. He felt Carmen’s hand tugging at his sleeve and let her pull him further back, moving as quietly as he could. Noor had no choice but to go with them, her heels scuffing on the pavement as she was dragged along.
“Yeah, you know, I kind of left my documents at home, so...”
Why hadn’t J stopped this? He knew what the Daleks were. He knew they’d brought down Torchwood London. He knew that UNIT had never really figured out how the Doctor managed to stop them. Why did he think that Torchwood Detroit could ever succeed where so many others had failed? Why--
There was a crackle and then a shrill, high-pitched shrieking as the gun fired. A pulse of blinding light filled the alley. J wrapped his arms around Noor, bending protectively over her. Carmen buried her face in the back of his coat, using him to block out the light. The light died, but the sound continued; after a moment, there was another pulse, then another. Over and over again, until the shrieking of the gun’s batteries modulated lower, fading into a dull whine before falling silent. J held his breath.
Out in the street, Samir spoke. One word. “What...?”
“EXTERMINATE!”
Another flash of light, and Samir screamed; a short cry, soon cut off.
“Oh Jesus,” Kai murmured.
“No.” Noor’s voice was soft, almost calm, but it kept rising as she turned in J’s arms, tried to push her way free of his grip. “No, no, NO--”
Carmen reached up and slapped a hand over Noor’s mouth, but it was too late. There was no way in hell that the Daleks hadn’t heard her. J started dragging them both backwards, not taking his eyes from the mouth of the alley. The Daleks weren’t there yet; they moved slowly, but it was only a matter of time before--
“READINGS INDICATE HUMAN LIFE FORMS,” one of the Daleks announced.
“There’s a door about twenty feet back from you.” Toby’s voice on the bluetooth this time. “Looks like it leads into a restaurant. You might have to kick it down.”
J looked down at Carmen. “You’re our tank,” she whispered, grabbing Noor by the wrists. “Go get the door. We’ll be right behind you.”
He nodded, then bolted off down the alleyway. He could just hear Carmen dragging Noor along behind him.
“THE HUMANS WILL SHOW THEMSELVES.”
The door, such as it was, was made out of plywood, and didn’t look sturdy. Thank God. J paused for a moment, backing away as far as he could, then launched himself at the thing shoulder-first. The hinges gave instead of the door, and he tumbled inside awkwardly, coughing as he took in a mouthful of smoke. The grill was still running, hot oil bubbling in the fryers, and a fire alarm was shrieking right above them.
Carmen tripped over his legs and fell inside, dragging Noor down with her. Noor was still reaching back towards the alley, sobbing her brother’s name under her breath. Carmen pulled Noor up into a sitting position, wrapped the headscarf around her nose and mouth to protect her from the smoke, then lifted her up in a fireman’s carry. “Move, dammit!” she shouted, and J struggled to his feet and followed after her.
“They’re out of the street now.” Toby continued to spit directions into their ears. “You can get across. Hurry!”
Carmen was slowed down by her burden-- Noor was bigger than her, heavier, and J had to wonder that Carmen could carry Noor at all-- so it was easy for J to dodge around her, knocking over a table and sending someone’s abandoned dinner to the floor, as he raced towards the front of the restaurant. The door was mostly glass; he lifted an arm to cover up his face and floored it, crashing through and out into the street.
“Office building, three doors to your right.”
The three of them just barely made it inside the office building before the Daleks were in the street again, firing their lasers indiscriminately. Carmen collapsed inside the front door, one hand to her chest. “Jesus,” she croaked.
“We should go back,” Noor said, although she wasn’t trying to get away from them this time. “Samir’s not dead. He’s hurt, but he’s not-- we have to--”
J hadn’t turned to look at Samir’s body in the street while he dashed towards shelter. He hadn’t needed to. “He’s gone, Noor,” he said.
“He’s not--”
“He’s gone,” Kai said. Noor’s eyes welled up with tears. “We’re coming to get you, but you’ve got to keep moving. The offices are connected to the bank on the corner; get through there, and there’s another alley. That’s where we’ll be. But you gotta get moving, and you gotta do it now.”
J was the first to push himself to his feet. The Daleks’ laser fire was getting more accurate with every second; they’d be found soon. He grabbed Carmen’s outstretched hand and pulled her to her feet, then turned to Noor. Noor looked up at him, her eyes huge, face tear-streaked. “He’s gone,” she whispered.
“Come on,” he said, and held his hand out. She waved him aside, pushed herself up to her feet, and started running.
*
September 2009 - Children of Earth
“This is never gonna work,” Kai said, careful to keep her voice down. Max had finally fallen asleep again, with her grandmother keeping watch, and Kai didn’t want to disturb her. The kid had been through enough already. “All right, so England’s decided to hand over their kids. Some other countries are going to follow suit. But do they really think everyone’s going to? America, Canada... Sure, fine. Maybe China and India. Maybe. If we’re lucky. Most countries -- hell, they won’t even know what’s going on, and they’ll never believe the truth. It’s a waste of time. Even if compliance was the right thing--”
She was interrupted by a gasp from the sofa, where Max had been curled up on her grandmother’s lap. Toby was up from his chair in a second, racing over to his daughter; the others all stood, took a few steps, watched helplessly as Max clung to her father’s shirt, crying. “They killed him,” she sobbed. “The boy who ran, they killed him, they made his nose bleed and he screamed and they...” The rest of her words were buried in Toby’s shoulder; he stroked her blonde hair, rocking her back and forth.
Kai turned away, her eyes resting on Aloysius. Their newest recruit was still in his chair, seemingly unaware of anything but his computer screen. One long-fingered hand was pressed to his lips. Kai felt her heart sinking even further.
“Aly?” she asked, crossing over to him. She rested one hand on his shoulder; he covered her fingers with his, but didn’t speak. “Aly, what’s wrong?”
“Jack,” he whispered, his soft, high voice sounding strained. “Captain Harkness, he...” He pointed at the screen.
Toby’d managed to hack into the video feed from Thames House in London, where the alien had made its first appearance. Aly’d been glued to it ever since, his gangly body folded awkwardly into a desk chair, back hunched and long legs jammed underneath the workstation. It had to be uncomfortable, but Aly’d obviously been too excited at the prospect of seeing his old mentor to care. He’d been so sure that Captain Jack Harkness would figure it out, save them all. He’d almost made Kai believe it.
But now Captain Jack Harkness, swishy blue coat and all, was curled up on the floor of Thames House, hands still loosely draped over the man he’d brought in with him. Kai was pretty sure they weren’t asleep. “They killed your friend,” she said softly, squeezing Aly’s fingers. “I’m sorry.”
Aly glanced up at her; it looked like he was trying to smile, but couldn’t quite muster it. “Jack doesn’t die,” he said. “Or he does, but he doesn’t... He doesn’t stay dead. So he’ll be back.”
“Right,” Kai said, and tried not to sound as skeptical as she felt. If Captain Harkness really had brought Aly into Torchwood back in the 1930s, then he obviously had to have something weird going on, some alien... something keeping him alive and useful these many decades later. Still, though. Looking at the screen, all Kai saw was a dead man. Impossible to imagine him coming back.
Then Aly let go of her hand and reached for his mouse. The video of Thames House was replaced with a screen full of text, scrolling and updating faster than Kai could read it. Not that it would have mattered; she wasn’t a code breaker, and the global intelligence network didn’t exactly speak in plain English. Aly, however, could read it like it was his native tongue. “It’s not just Jack and his friend,” he said, after reading for a bit. “The 456... They flooded the whole building with some kind of virus or something, locked it down. Everyone who was inside...” Aly ducked his head, took a deep breath. “They’re all dead.”
J finally joined them, his broad shoulders sheltering them like a wall. “The 456 weren’t bluffing,” he said, quietly. “They’re going to wipe us out.”
“Not necessarily,” Noor said, still busy at her workstation, eyes never leaving her computer’s screen. “Thames House is an enclosed space, and the 456 already had access to it. All they really had to do is lock it down and release the virus into the air conditioning systems. It wouldn’t even require that much. Infecting the entire human race... it’s not even comparable.” She paused, glanced over her shoulder at Aly, and gave him a small, apologetic smile. “Not that it isn’t terrible, what they’ve done.”
Aly nodded back at her, quietly accepting the apology. “No, you’re right,” he said. “It’s... It almost seems as though it’s more of a scare tactic. Thames House is a relatively high-profile target, at least for the British, and it’s full of government employees. And no children,” he added, glancing over at Toby and Max and biting his lip. “So the 456 aren’t risking anything.”
“But still,” J said, folding his arms. Sometimes Kai wondered if he ever believed anything he said, or if he just played devil’s advocate because he thought they needed one. “Say we’re right -- they can’t kill us all, fine. They can still hit out at specific targets, until we finally give up and give them what they want. People are going to die over this.”
“They’ll die whether or not we give in, though.” Noor spun her chair around, turning away from her computer. “Word’s already started to filter through to the militia groups; they’re arming themselves as we speak. If the government really does start to come after our children, they’ll have to fight for them.”
“Good,” Aly said, quietly. His eyes were still on Toby and Max; he didn’t seem to notice or care that the others were all staring at him. “We shouldn’t let them take our children. It’s... it’s wrong.”
“You’re saying we should go to war against our own government?” J asked, disbelief in his voice. Kai could appreciate the sentiment-- Aly was Carmen’s replacement in some ways, but she’d never expected him to share in her revolutionary streak.
When Aly looked up, his face was as scared as it was defiant. “They’re going to war against us,” he replied, swallowing hard. “We have the right to fight back.”
“Aly’s right,” Noor said, quietly. “Think about it, J. If they need kids to send to the 456, where’s the first place they’re going to look? You know how people see Detroit. We’re poor, all of our kids drop out of school or fail, there’s no jobs, there’s no...”
“We’re the bottom ten percent,” Kai finished. Her eyes were drawn, inexorably, back to Max and Toby. Christ, most politicians would probably look at that kid and think they were doing her a favor by handing her over to the 456. They didn’t know; they’d never know. “They’re gonna come for our kids, J. And people are going to fight back. And Detroit’s going to burn down for good, unless we can take control of the situation now.”
“You really think people are going to listen to us?” J asked. “Most of them don’t even know who we are, Kai. They’ve got no reason to do what we tell them.”
“I know.” Kai said. “But we still have to try.” She took a deep breath before adding, “If you’re not sure, J... I’m not going to force you to stick with us through this. I’m sure UNIT would be glad to have you back.”
“Fuck UNIT.” J stopped, like he’d surprised himself, then let out a shaky laugh. “Fuck UNIT,” he said again. “I’m with you, Kai.”
Kai laughed too, more out of relief than anything else. “Good,” she said. “‘Cause we’ve got work to do.”
*
August 2008 -- The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords [Timeline Erased]
They picked their way through the rubble in the streets, glancing nervously over their shoulders. It was long past curfew, and the city was quiet. Now and then, a patrol stalked down the road, forcing Martha and her escort, J, to scramble for a hiding place. Lucky for them there were so many burnt-out buildings in this part of the city.
Lucky.
Honestly, she was surprised there was anything left at this point. The news from Detroit was always the same: Torchwood had blown up one of Saxon’s factories, so Saxon had burnt down a safehouse in retaliation. Between the two of them, it was a miracle that there were any buildings left standing, let alone something as prominent as Michigan Central Station. But there it was, looming over them.
“Come on,” J mumured, taking her by the arm.
The two of them scrambled across the street, hunched down to escape detection. As soon as they’d stepped up on the curb, dark figures were detaching themselves from the shadows, following after them. Martha froze up momentarily, fearing capture.
“Don’t stop!” someone hissed, grabbing her other arm. The shadowy figures crowded around, like a human shield wrapped around Martha and J, propelling them inexorably towards the building. “Hurry up, hurry up--”
“Careful,” someone else added. “Stairs.”
They were far enough from the street now that the streetlights couldn’t reach them; Martha stumbled in the darkness as she tried to feel her way up the steps. Hands reached out to catch her, a voice whispered guidance in her ear. “Three more. Two. One. Door’s on your left. There’s broken glass here, so be careful.”
“You must be Torchwood,” she muttered, as she was guided around a dark shape that might have been a bench.
“And you’re Martha Jones.” As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she started to make out the shape of her mysterious guide -- male, judging by his voice, but not much taller than she was. Scrawny. “You really think you can take Saxon out?”
“Maybe,” she said, as they were steered down a narrow hallway. “Depends on you, really.”
“Oh yeah?” her guide asked.
“Flashlights,” someone said from the other side of the huddle. Martha barely had time to close her eyes before the hallway was filled with the light from several torches, bright after the almost-total darkness of the building’s main room.
“Yeah,” she said, as the group started to move again, taking the opportunity to get a good look at the people surrounding her. J was at her right hand, like he’d been since they met up in Windsor, tall and broad-shouldered, clad in UNIT black. Up ahead of him was a slender figure, clad in dirty fatigues; the build made Martha think their leader was a woman, but the clean-shaven head made her question that a little. Behind them, constantly looking over his shoulder, was a man with a woman’s black scarf wrapped around his neck. He touched it constantly, as if for reassurance. It made Martha wonder about the woman who’d once owned that scarf. Who she’d been. How she’d died.
On Martha’s left, the scrawny man was walking along with his torch trained on the floor, lighting the path ahead of them. He didn’t look like much. Still, she supposed he didn’t need to be particularly imposing to bend computers to his will, and that was what she needed.
“Think you can hack into the Archangel Network, get control of the satellites?” she asked him. “I need them to... It’s complicated. But I need them.”
Her guide turned to her, flashed a grin. On second thought, he wasn’t bad-looking, really; dark hair, with a bit of a beard growing in. She’d always kind of liked that look on a man. “Cryptic,” he said. “I’m tempted to say I won’t do it until you tell me why you need it done. But...” He shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve always wanted to take control of a major telecommunications network.”
“You sound confident,” Martha said. “That sure you can do it, are you?”
“Shit, yeah,” the man said. “Might take a couple of days, but I’ll get you your satellites, don’t worry about that. And then you can do whatever you want to ‘em. Except getting the local networks. Can’t get those with satellite.” He cackled at his own joke.
Martha laughed too, more out of politeness than anything else. Then a bit of graffiti caught her eye, and she stopped. It looked like something she’d seen before, elsewhere in the city. Some sort of message, maybe? The Doctor’d said something about that, about graffiti as a message...
Hang on,” she murmured, when her guide tried to pull her onwards. “That. What does that say?” She tapped the graffiti to point it out for him.
“Huh?” Her guide obligingly turned the torch back to the wall. “Oh, it’s the city motto. ‘We hope for better things; it will rise from the ashes.’”
Resurget cineribus. Martha ran her hands over the letters, thoughtful. As messages went, it wasn’t bad. “It will, will it?”
Her guide just laughed. “You kidding me?” he asked, taking her by the elbow and leading her down a flight of stairs. “This is Detroit. It’s what we do.”
“Good,” she said. “That’s exactly what I need.”
“Then you’re in the right place.” Her guide gave her one more smile, before turning his attention back to the path ahead of them.
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