His wrist manipulator was sending the unmistakable signal of rift activity but he couldn’t still see anything. No weevils or whatever they were called those ugly beasts, no other sign of alien life. But there has to be something and this time he wasn’t going to let it go away. Unless…
Damn. A police car. John stepped back hiding in a dark alley. He didn’t want more problems with the police now. A blown up car was enough. Although he had been given a special card from Torchwood which allowed him to do certain things, he didn’t think the Welsh police would be too happy to have him killing more of their cops.
He walked the alley he had just entered and the signal went suddenly clearer. The alien was closer now. He pulled out one of his guns, ready to shoot whatever it was. The stench got worse as he approached a pile of dirty blankets. Homeless. He kicked one of the shapes and got a muffled growl as a reply. "Keep sleeping, mate," he murmured. Some things never change, no matter what century or what planet you’re in. There are always homeless. Well, except in planets where they eat them.
There was a shadow at the end of the alley. As John got closer it moved, trying to escape but John chased after it, running as fast as he could.