January 2011



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Jan. 7th, 2010


"You will have many friends when you need them." #s 2 4 1

It's early in the new year, and Cardiff is cold and damp with it. The weather is nothing unusual, but it's unusual for Cardiff to start a year in such a damaged state. After the air raids of World War II, it seemed Cardiff would never see such destruction again; few would've ever predicted the bombings that tore the city without warning, and none at all imagined that horrific metal-encased aliens would steal away the entire planet.

Despite the physical state of the city, things have been more quiet than usual. Maybe it's the shock and tragedy that have bonded people together and made things more peaceful.

Of course, it helps that the Rift spent a stretch of time in unusual calm. The average Cardiff resident doesn't know that.

It'd be nice if the calm lasted. With only three people on Torchwood's staff, the decreased activity helped keep things from getting overwhelming. It certainly must've been a relief for Gwen to have less activity when she alone had to cope with it after a strange Rift spike took Jack and Ianto. They'd returned not too long after with the Doctor and his TARDIS, but apparently they'd all passed some two years elsewhere and elsewhen. Torchwood was back to three, and just in time for the planet to move, too. Thankfully, they were able to work on that with others who, like Jack, had known the Doctor. That still left them with only three, though.

Recruiting is never easy and involves plenty of retcon. As the Rift goes wild again— even more than before the planet moved— there really isn't time for that no matter how much they need the extra help. Creatures once content to live in subterranean Cardiff surface in greater numbers than before, more often hostile than not. The Rift dumps on them a relatively average number of objects, but with a much more than average rate of being dangerous. Time-displaced humans and aliens fill the safehouses; as Torchwood gets one moved out, it seems like two more arrive. It's too much for their small numbers.

Any sense of work schedule is gone with all the problems that need solving. Jack insists on a break for each of them here and there for the sake of their sanity, as long as the Rift predictions look a little more reasonable than those for other days. It's beyond exhausting. Jack even takes to calling the Doctor when they can't handle things themselves, and even with undoubtedly ulterior motives to wanting the Doctor visiting, things are very much focused on saving the world, or at least saving Cardiff.

Just when it seems like it might be their calmest day in months, with the predictions good enough to let Gwen take a day for sanity, the Rift alarms go off and send Jack running to the nearest computer terminal.

"What the hell?!" He grabs the monitor as if that'll change things. It doesn't. He bellows out into the Hub as he reads. "Incoming on our roof and doubt it's a late delivery from Santa! We should have time to grab equipment and get up there, but I can't tell what we're getting!"

His vortex manipulator is giving him a warning and he gives it a quick check. "That was a spatial-temporal flux, uncertain range. Definitely not Santa."

He hastily pulls on the belt for his holster, Webley already inside thanks to how often it's needed use lately. So much for the day's predictions. Activity on the Plass will almost undoubtedly require lots of clean-up, both of the area and of witnesses' memories.