bodldops | (no subject)

"Well?" If roguish smiles could provide electrical power, that one could light up the entirety of Cardiff.
"Still dead." Smiles, tragically, do not convert well today. "There isn't even anything in the generators."
"S'not a mechanical fault." Mickey's London accent breaks into their conversation from overhead - the ex-mechanic ex-freedom fighter ex-time traveler ex-Cyberman killer... current gizmo guy at Torchwood Cardiff leans over the railing, greasy hands and screwdriver ample evidence of his recent fiddling in the mostly dark. "And that flying relic is being well creepy, you know?"
"Awww, she just wants a peck." Jack drawls back at him, seemingly unable to resist the urge to dig in a little. Ianto rolls his eyes. He's not entirely sure what is the problem between the two men, but it's a little like hanging around a pair of toddlers when they really go at it.
"She? Know this personally, do you? So much for standards..." Mickey sniggers, and Ianto goes back to exploring the fuse box. There's no use getting anything useful out of either of them now, and it doesn't go any further in solving why Torchwood is suddenly without power. It's just as well that the levels they are currently keeping Weevils on are more conventionally locked and that there wasn't anything particularly dangerous in the closer lockup - they'd all had quite enough of escapees over the last year or so.

At least this time, they didn't have to be freed from their own base by a laughing police force. Hand cranks worked just fine this time, thank you (thus ruling out any deceased and insane former team members).

"Ianto! Jack! Mickey!" Gwen's voice echos in the enormous building, the light from her torch flashing erratically as she jogs towards them, her feet clanking on the metal plating.
"How come I'm always called last?" Mickey muses from overhead. In the light of Ianto's battery-powered lantern, Jack's smile suddenly gets sharper, and Ianto can sense another battle coming on. Brother.
"Over here, Gwen." He calls, hoping to forstall the inevitable. "What's wrong?"
"Not wrong, right." She replies, smugness thick in her voice. "Look, I pulled these off of a CCTV camera at the stadium." She hands the glossy photos to Jack, while Ianto peers over his shoulder. Overhead, Mickey heads for the stairs so he can get in on the joke.

"... This is impossible." Jack finally says, once they've all had time to stare at the photos for quite a while. "We would have walked right by it. Probably into it, the way it's..."
"I'm carrying an alien baby at my wedding and these Dalek creatures can steal the Earth and haul it all the way across the galaxy and and there's a dinosaur flying around the base and this is impossible?" Gwen points out, a touch sharply. More than a touch, actually - she doesn't much like having her investigative work doubted.

"Well..." And she also has a point. Jack can't exactly it's impossible, no, not with the lives they lead. "But we still would have..."

She produces one more picture.

In this one, all four of them feature, walking through Roald Dahl Plass, with pizza from the local shop and boxes of files taken from some too-enthusiastic alien watchers.

Walking directly by the boarded-up information kiosk which is sitting smack dab in front of fountain over the hub.

The one not a one of them can remember ever seeing before.

Gwen points to the time stamp.

"1532. Six minutes before the power went out." The smug is back, but no one protests it this time. She's earned it.

In other news, I got out at 5:30pm tonight, so I got a panini, and watched some Foyles War, and am now going to sleep, which is awesome. :D

Edit: Found a clip of David Tennant on Foyles War. Must resist urge to write a fic as to how that could be the Doctor. No brain. Bad brain. Shh.