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| Cardiff Master Gardner Program - main office | |
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| Topic Started: Sep 14 2009, 02:41 PM (1,264 Views) | |
| Captain Jack Harkness | Sep 14 2009, 02:41 PM Post #1 |
Director, Torchwood-Three
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cont from: boardroom: all together now Jack patted his pocket for his keys and to make sure the retcon was there before turning to the garage, Owen and Andy trailing. “Let’s take care of the master gardner first, that should be easy enough and –“ he checked his watch. The face was cracked, Jack frowned because he didn’t remember hitting it, but it was running fine. “ – we should be right on time for tea.” “The kid in the hospital will be easy,” Jack nodded at Owen as he gunned the engine and they shot out of the garage. “You just get on in there and use an IV dose. By then, Adam will have a story and if we need to make alterations to the physical records, we’ll be right there. Though, I have to say NHS’ new electronic records policy is making life much easier.” The Master Gardener program was part of the city’s recreational system and was represented solely by a single, tiny office off the administrative buildings in Roath Park. Today, even big intimidating black SUVs had a hard time finding parking, it was sunny, warm, and the park was heavy with tourists and locals both. Jack abandoned his coat in the car but he still stood out like a refugee from a vintage photo-shoot. Jack checked his watch again, ignoring the occasional turned head. "My bet is we'll find some nice little old lady we can share a cuppa with and get out of here in about twenty minutes." Edited by Captain Jack Harkness, Sep 14 2009, 02:43 PM.
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| Andy Davidson | Sep 15 2009, 09:32 AM Post #2 |
Office Tart
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Andy tapped the pen against his leg as Jack parked the SUV. It took, he thought, much longer than it ought to. Just as the drive had, really. Maybe he was getting sick. Just underslept, more likely. He glanced into the side mirror and relaxed somewhat when he caught the barest hint of Owen's profile in the reflection. The day, though, was gorgeous. There was a time before that his immediate thought wouls have been that the weather was ideal for a jog in Roath Park. Now, though, his first reaction was more convoluted. Nature appealed and didn't all at once, and the Hub's treadmill was more attractive on new levels where motives and preferences intersected more neatly. In any case, the sun and breeze felt good as he and Owen followed Jack past the main buildings and toward a side entrance. |
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| Captain Jack Harkness | Sep 16 2009, 09:22 AM Post #3 |
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Director, Torchwood-Three
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The gardener’s office was around back, which made it convenient as far as Jack was concerned as he cut past the ‘stay on the path’ sign and around the corner. A quick glance showed no one around the little back allotment where plants – all thankfully terrestrial – were stored and the foggy glass of the old-fashioned greenhouse beyond betrayed no moving shadows. “Tea time,” Jack nodded in satisfaction and used his wristband to trigger the electronic lock on the back door. “Mr …. Ah, Skoot – Floyd Skoot – uses paper records so once he’s down we’ll need to see if he had a file on the pod.” Jack headed down the hallway, peering at doorways. The Master Gardner’s office had it’s own little plaque (donated by Sir Kai Owen) and he knocked on the open frame peering around to see who was hopefully their target rustling a stack of papers. “… Hi,” he said, with an abashed, slightly shy smile that seemed perfectly natural if you didn’t know him at all. “We’re looking for the Master Gardner? Mr. Skoot?” |
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| Captain Jack Harkness | Sep 16 2009, 09:56 AM Post #4 |
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Director, Torchwood-Three
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With a face like that, the man had to be a gardener and a Skoot. His wrinkles had wrinkles and the entire office smelled like … Jack frowned for a moment; the musty smell reminded him of something. “I’m the Master Gardner,” Mr. Skoot said with great gravity and Jack sidled into the office. “Did you need something?” “Actually, yeah,” Jack shrugged. “We’re from the Welsh Wildlife Trust,” he even had an ID for it and flicked it out for a moment, though the old man didn’t seem to care. He just watched the three of them steadily, the kind of look that – if Jack weren’t habituated to lying under any circumstance – might have made him uneasy. “We’re doing a survey of invasive gastropods, particularly the ghost slug.” The hint of actual knowledge changed everything, a smile broke out, revealing teeth more suited to a horse than a human and he waved Jack to a chair and Owen and Andy to … wherever they could perch in the small and overcrowded room. “Selenochlamys ysbryda,” he said with great relish and pride. “Carnivorous ground slug – first animal to have a Welsh taxonomic name.” Jack blinked, then nodded. He’d make the name up actually. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to actually talk about it in depth. “Yes,” he echoed with his best effort at enthusiasm for … slugs. “The Trust thought that we should try and get a leg up on the next invasive species coming along for a change, instead of playing catch-up.” Mr. Skoot was nodding even as Jack spoke. “Someone had an attack of the smarts.” He leaned forward. “And I’ve got a story for you.” “Yeah?” “Yeah …” the old man paused and scratched the back of his neck. “Still, important things first. Tea?” Relieved at the predictability, Jack nodded, even though Mr. Skoot wasn’t really waiting for an answer. Tea, for the Master Gardner’s was evidently kept in an even smaller room where Jack could barely see a hotpot and a microwave beyond the half-open door before Skoot’s back blocked it. The sound of running water and the clatter of cheap porcelain was familiar enough and Jack caught Owen’s eye, then tilted his head to the filing cabinets as the old man thumped around. A rather solid thud jerked Jack’s attention back to Skoot. He was slumped over the counter. “Shit!” Jack jumped up and shoved the door open against the weight. Mr. Skoot was escaping out the transom window. Well, his head was. “Hey!” ooc: so, anyone remember the remake of the thing?  http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2223/2142816604_43b00f3995_o.jpg Edited by Captain Jack Harkness, Sep 16 2009, 09:59 AM.
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| Andy Davidson | Sep 16 2009, 10:49 AM Post #5 |
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Office Tart
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OOC: Andy certainly does. This will lead to questions, surely, about a certain Mr. Carpenter... Andy had been happy to let Jack do the talking. He tried, more or less successfully, to maintain an air of indifference. It came half-naturally. He kept his thumbs in his pockets and focused instead on the odd, faded posters and notices on the tack board. It was all standard conservation fare, but it appealed the same way reading one's shampoo bottle did. When Skoot shuffled off into the tiny closet kitchen, Andy glanced up. This would be where his work came in. If the space had been bigger, he'd have offered to help. Instead, he'd have to figure out how to drug the old man while they sat, something which struck Andy as considerably less simple. He watched and waited as Owen made to look through the files. There was something to be said for an extra set of hands, apparently. He jerked to attention at the thump, and Jack's own startle. "On it!" Andy answered, and bolted out the door and out into the park. He saw a thing -- 'a Thing?' he thought, giddily in ways he knew were only his -- and dashed after it. What he'd do when he caught up with it was anyone's guess, but he'd cross that bridge when he got to it. Edited by Andy Davidson, Sep 16 2009, 10:50 AM.
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| Owen Harper | Sep 16 2009, 11:04 AM Post #6 |
Time Lord
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"Bollocks," Owen cursed, and dashed after. He wasn't a distance runner like Andy, but he was good for a sprint. Andy ran the direct line and Owen broke right, trying to head the Thing off. |
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| Captain Jack Harkness | Sep 16 2009, 12:15 PM Post #7 |
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Director, Torchwood-Three
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“Don’t let it bite you!” Jack yelled after Andy – and Owen – torn between the urge to chase after them and the, now headless, body lying sprawled on the counter. He compromised by pausing long enough to give the body a poke – it didn’t move – and a look over before heading after his team. The musty smell was strong now, wafting out of what was clearly a dry and hollow shell, which explained the wrinkled, aged, look of Mr. Skoot, Master Gardner – deceased. Jack wondered how old he’d really been. The inside of the body cavity was dense with white webbing though the bones of the spine and ribcage were vaguely visible amid dry muscle as well. Satisfied that it wasn’t (likely) to spring to life, Jack shut the office door, flipped the sign to ‘out for lunch’ and ran after Owen and Andy. Roath Park was a civilized park, mostly open grass, well tended sidewalks and full of happy people. Jack cursed the sun, the crowds and his job and ran faster. At least the alien was staying away from highly public areas, heading towards a rose garden where Jack really didn’t want to be fumbling around under thorn bushes after an alien disguised as a head. “Don’t let it bite you,” he panted over the comm. “It can inject larvae through its teeth. Probably how Skoot got infected. Head it off from the damn roses!” He could hear the alien shrieking as it ran. <i>“Stay on the path! Don’t trample the flowers!”</I> Edited by Captain Jack Harkness, Sep 16 2009, 12:23 PM.
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| Andy Davidson | Sep 16 2009, 12:34 PM Post #8 |
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Office Tart
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Andy ran full tilt, eyes focused on the Thing ahead of them as he tried to close the gap. He briefly considered taking a shot at it except that: a) aiming his gun would mean stopping, b) the Thing was fast and small like a rabbit, which meant even a good shot with a handgun could go wide, and c) they were in Roath Park in the middle of the afternoon. He heard Jack's warning over the comm, made a mental note that amounted mostly to 'roses upcoming, roses bad' and pushed harder. |
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| Owen Harper | Sep 16 2009, 03:14 PM Post #9 |
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Time Lord
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Owen pushed harder, leveling out with Andy. "Lake!" he shouted. If they could herd the Thing closer to the water -- well, it wouldn't be much better, but it might be less painful. He was between the Thing and the roses, and he didn't like where it was heading. |
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| Andy Davidson | Sep 16 2009, 07:38 PM Post #10 |
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Office Tart
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Andy nodded at Owen's voice over the comms and feinted left. The Thing let out an awful squeal and changed course. It was more awkward on all those legs than Andy had guessed it would be, and that was enough to ensure that Owen could predict it and come up alongside as if Andy were passing him a ball in a game of footy. |
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| Owen Harper | Sep 16 2009, 07:43 PM Post #11 |
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Time Lord
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Owen veered closer, knowing how Andy would move and respond, urging the Thing closer to the water, feet more a threat of trampling than being able to actually capture it. They needed to corner it. If one just took a swipe and missed, the other would be on their own for too long before the first could recover. "D'you think it can swim?" he called. "Look at that anatomy." |
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| Captain Jack Harkness | Sep 17 2009, 09:41 AM Post #12 |
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Director, Torchwood-Three
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“Oh, I’m too old for this,” Jack panted, catching up to Andy and Owen and the shrieking alien as they came to the edge of the lake. It darted left-right-feint with Andy and Owen circling like pack-hunters; the alien jinked like a rabbit but the two of them were like foxes, if foxes hunted together. Jack pulled to a halt to watch, fascinated. It was their shoulders that got him, synchronized like they’d fought together for years as they played the thing between them. “Okay, so it’s not all bad.” Jack couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like in bed with them, like this. The coordinated possibilities were endless. He grinned a moment at a vivid fantasy; the weight and heat and taste of Andy’s cock, real enough to make his mouth water, then had to shake it off as the alien reared up, flailing with it’s front legs, teeth gnashing (and they looked larger when it was just a head) and dogged between Andy’s feet. Jack lunged forward, stomping hard and just missing the thing as it dodged back towards Owen. “Trespassers!” It shrieked, snapping those teeth, yellowed, and razor sharp, at Owen’s ankles. “You don’t have the paperwork to collect wildlife!” Get off my lawn!” “Kick it into the water!” Jack hollered at Owen. “Or something!” They weren’t exactly being discrete. Edited by Captain Jack Harkness, Sep 17 2009, 09:42 AM.
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| Owen Harper | Sep 17 2009, 11:09 AM Post #13 |
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Time Lord
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Owen hopped back out of the range of its teeth. It reared back again and he kicked out, letting himself fall sideways like a football player. He heard a squeal from the Thing and felt a solid connection before he impacted hard with the ground. It wasn't down, but it had definitely slowed, several of its legs damaged. |
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| Andy Davidson | Sep 17 2009, 01:17 PM Post #14 |
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Office Tart
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Andy flinched in sympathy with Owen's tackle. His footing faltered briefly as his brain flashed confusion, but Owen's move had planted the idea and he grinned. He wasn't much of a footballer, but the Thing wasn't much of a football. The first good tap -- not a proper kick, mind, because the Thing was alive -- set it rolling off-balance. The thorax and legs curled defensively and Andy dribbled it for a few paces to line it up before he planted one foot squarely on the back of its skull. "There," he panted, hands on hips. The Thing wriggled underneath his foot, its words muffled by the turf. "You know, tea would have been easier." |
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| Owen Harper | Sep 17 2009, 03:53 PM Post #15 |
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Time Lord
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"Too right," Owen agreed, scrambling back to his feet. His right shoulder ached, even though he'd landed on his left. He'd probably run into something and not even noticed. Clumsy. He checked the small kit he kept in his pocket, his bag dumped in the chase. Two syringes, a vial, and a small bottle containing various pills just fit inside, padded in the metal case with gauze. "Just hoping the carotid is still a carotid on this thing," he muttered as he injected it with the sedative. |
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| Captain Jack Harkness | Sep 17 2009, 06:59 PM Post #16 |
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Director, Torchwood-Three
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"Okay, good," Jack strode the last few steps as he scrambled through is coat pockets until he came up with a hazard bag. "We need to get out of here," he glanced around at the stares and the paused joggers and the - "camera phones," he groaned. The alien was still twitching spasmodically but Jack reversed the bag over his hand and picked it up with a wary grimace. It flailed like an upended lobster, twitching the abbreviated tail-like that had partially filled the body cavity and anchored it into the former Master Gardner. Whatever Owen had given it had made it sluggish, or perhaps it was dying. Jack was good either way. It snapped half-heartedly, tail flexing as it tried to anchor itself on Jack's shirtsleeve. "Let's make a deal ...." It whined. "If you don't shut up the deal is going to be turning you into fish food," Jack snarled and pulled the bag over it, yanking the seal tight as it chewed on the inside of the bag, rustling and ... nomming until Jack shook it. "Knock it off." Jack jerked his head at Andy and Owen, angling back towards the offices they'd just come from. "... I've seen them, they're the ones on that website ... He heard from the little crowed and Jack groaned under his breath. "Ianto is going to love this." "Right, so, there's the rest of the body and the files and," Jack lifted the bag, which still moved, "making sure our buddy here didn't have any friends. I should've known there'd be one of these things around," he grumbled, halting in the gardener's little work yard, cluttered with up ended pots and gardening tools and coiled hoses. "My life is never simple." "Just part of the service!" the alien piped up. "Shut up." |
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| Andy Davidson | Sep 18 2009, 03:22 AM Post #17 |
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Office Tart
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Once Jack had the Thing -- well, technically he guessed it was a Hraxxon, but 'Thing' still suited it pretty well -- Andy could turn his attention to something else. "Nice tackle," he said as he tentatively touched Owen's right shoulder. |
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| Owen Harper | Sep 18 2009, 04:53 AM Post #18 |
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Time Lord
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Owen flashed a grin, leaning into the touch unconsciously. "You're just saying that." A twitch of his other shoulder indicated to Andy that he'd be fine. "That thing didn't get you, did it?" he asked in return, then turned to include Jack in his gaze as well. "If there's one of these, there's bound to be more, all looking for hosts." |
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| Andy Davidson | Sep 18 2009, 08:49 AM Post #19 |
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Office Tart
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"That thing didn't get you, did it?" Owen asked. Andy shook his head. He'd been careful to avoid being bitten, or even scratched. Grass stains and rumple aside, Owen's grin and stance was enough to satisfy Andy that he was fine as well. Gladness kept Andy near, even as the wheels in his head started to turn. "If there's --" he started, but Owen was a beat ahead, so Andy let him finish. "If there's one of these, there's bound to be more, all looking for hosts." "Greenhouse might be a good place for them," Andy said. "Enclosed, low visibility, lots of nooks and crannies. Exactly what none of us want to stick our bare hands into, really." |
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| Captain Jack Harkness | Sep 18 2009, 09:31 AM Post #20 |
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Director, Torchwood-Three
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“Well,” Jack glanced around, then went over to a cupboard and gingerly hauled it open. Tools and other gear were stacked neatly inside, legacy of Mr. Skoot. “Luckily we’re not the only ones who don’t want to get our hands dirty.” He hauled out several pairs of gloves; taking the worn canvas ones for himself and handing off a more effective rubberized set to Owen and a sturdy pair of leather ones to Andy. “I’m pretty sure these things can’t get established here,” Jack went on, swinging the bag in his hand idly while the alien went whee! inside. “Thankfully. You weren’t able to reproduce inside Mr. Skoot were you?” The bag shifted, straining as the alien pressed its legs against the sides. “Water, water all around and not a drop to drink!” “I hate these things,” Jack muttered, then turned back to Andy and Owen, “so it’s whatever managed to get through the Rift or shed off the Hraxxon before it died and they’ll keep on trying like this one with the gardener, until they die. You’re right, the greenhouse is the best bet. Here – “ he shoved the bag at Owen. “Take that, I’ll go fetch the rest of the body.” The alien scrambled up towards the top of the bag as Jack handed it over, sticking one spiny leg out of the opening, flailing in the general direction of Jack’s hand. “Ooh, I don’t like him very much. You smell much nicer.” |
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