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 Face Eaters, For Torchwood 24 Employees only
Conor Reiv
Posted: Jul 24 2010, 04:33 PM


Unregistered









user posted image : user posted image : user posted image
Everything I can't Remember -
As messed up as it all may seem.

___________________________________________________

The music was playing extremely loudly, filling up every ounce of space then spilling out from under the door and into the hallway, searching for more room to spread because there wasn't enough room inside the door for it to be spread out comfortably. The place that the music was escaping from was a door that was quite plan. It was the average wood-stained door that didn't look to be anything special. It was inlayed in the wall along with lots of other plan doors leading to other, unpleasant things. It was down near the archives and the cells, a place where not a lot of people just wander about. There was a small plaque hanging from eye level on the door, which quite simply spelled out a name that, like the door, was not eyecatching or incredibly unique.

"Conor Reiv."

No description or anything to tell who exactly this Conor is, or why his office happened to be located down near the unpleasant end of the building instead of up closer to the sun with the rest of the offices.

Behind the door, an iPod docking system sat on the floor amiss all the clutter, an iPod nestling inside, playing the music that seeped into the hallway. It was one of Beethoven's earlier creations, the music normally soothing when played at a more comfortable volume. It was about the only normal thing in the room. When clean and organized, the room was one of the largest on the lower floors. However, seeing that it was filled almost to bursting point with random pieces of technology and half-cannibalized alien devices, it seemed more like a mole hole. Along with all the bits and pieces of random wire and metal, there were also tell-tale signs of someone living there. Cups and empty soda cans littered the room, along with cereal boxes that were half-full, while others were half-empty. in the middle of said room, a fair distance away from the iPod, sat the man whose name was depicted on the door plaque. Conor Reiv.

He was lying on his back, his face upward toward the ceiling. However, he couldn't see the ceiling, because his view was obstructed by a large piece of alien technology that was suspended from said ceiling. Conor had requested it be moved to his room several days ago, and had thoroughly immersed himself in the job. The Torchwood employee who had brought this particular piece in several weeks ago claimed that it was some kind of hover board, for lack of more sophisticated terms. It had been broken in a chase, and brought for storage. Conor had taken one look at it and had immediately wanted it. It had taken him a while and a lot of pestering and messing with the CCTV and parental locks on the Torchwood computers, but he had finally been given the machine with strict instructions not to kill anyone or cause an apocalypse. So far, so good.

It seemed that the wiring had gotten all jumbled up in the supposed chase that the board had been put through. Conor had decided that, instead of working on it on the floor upside down, he would suspend it and work on it the way it was supposed to be, floating in the air. It seemed logical at the time.

His eyes were covered in large goggles that magnified everything that he saw. His dirty blonde hair was sticking up in every possible direction that gravity would allow, only tamed by the band that went over the top of his head which was holding two large earmuffs over his ears. They were like Boise noise-deleting earphones, only a lot better because Conor had created them himself. It made the overly-loud music barely catchable background music, and completely erased any noise the machines he was using were making. There was also a gray scarf tied around his forehead, stopping any sweat from falling under the goggles and into his eyes. his arms were raised above him as he tinkered with the alien wiring, trying to make sense of everything and find where exactly something went wrong. Today he was wearing a blue jumper that a mechanic would wear, and had it unzipped and tied around his waist, a white t-shirt covering his torso. As normal, there were no shoes or socks covering his feet, leaving only bare digits to curl and grab small carpet fibers when he was cross about something.

Conor paused in his work, his right hand falling next to him, searching blindly for the bowl of cereal he had next to him, his left arm still working diligently. His hand found the bowl he was looking for and his fingers dove inside, searching the porcelain for those small round suggery-goodness snacks. Finding none, Conor broke his concentration and actually used his magnified vision to search. Holding the bowl at arms length he realized that the bowl was empty - he had ate them all. Letting out a huff of annoyance, Conor scooted out from under the alien hover board and stood up, grabbing the bowl and effortlessly navigating his way through the clutter, his feet finding empty ground only in a way that someone one hundred percent used to their surroundings could. Humming with the music, Conor left the large room and entered the adjoining one through a door-less doorway. Inside it was as cluttered as before, expect for the small mattress that lay in one corner next to a fridge and another door. Above the fridge was a cabinet, and Conor opened that, searching blindly for a new box of cereal, his eyes still covered with his goggles. He found it and poured the small round treats into the bowl, digging his hand in and popping a good number into his mouth, his teeth crunching down as he smacked with joy.

He turned to go back to his work on the hover board when his eyes landed on his mini hub. It took up an entire wall of the room, power strips full and over-the-limit energy wise. There were nine computer lined up in an unorganized row, each one of them one and running, each one of them with the Torchwood logo in the background. They were Conor's way of keeping tabs on everything and making sure he did his job right. Anything he wanted, he could get on those. He could hail anyone from a random person on the street to Jack Harkness to the Prime Minister without having to jump any loops, and could check up on all the Torchwood's located on and around the world. One of the screens that was situated near the middle was blinking, a small warning signal going crazy. It was probably letting out a really loud alarm too. Conor smiled - he knew that his earphones were the best.

He walked over to his mini-hub and pulled up his small office chair (which he wheeled around the room and made himself dizzy with more than he would admit), sitting down and clicking a few keys. The Torchwood mainframe popped up and he yelped, pushing away from the computer with speed. He reached up to his face, and felt really stupid feeling his goggles still over his eyes. He pulled them off and hung them around his neck, rubbing his eyes but unable to remove the deep red circles around his eyes from where the goggles had sucked on his skin. Of course, he didn't know they were there, for he didn't have a mirror anywhere in his place, save for the small one that was hidden in his bathroom for when he remembered to shave.

He pulled back up to the computers, a large frown quickly dominating his face as he realized what he was seeing. All the alerts were coming from Torchwood 10 - aka the Japanese division. Why did you think Japan was the leading country in manga? Sure as hell wasn't creativity.

His fingers flew over the keys, the clacking noises not making it too his ears because of the earphones. Getting slightly sidetracked, he shifted over to the computer next door and tapped into his iTunes, shutting his iPod speakers off before pulling off his earphones. The clacking noises of his fingers, as well as the happy humming of the computers met his ears and he winced at the sudden harsh noises. But it only distracted him for half a second, and he got back to work.

His eyes grew wider than saucers as those two gray orbs flew over the information spilling onto his screen. Giving up, he sat back in his chair, disbelief written all over his face. He wheeled over to the computer all the way on the left end and keyed a few commands, pulling up the comm system for the entire building. He picked up a wireless microphone that sat next to the computer and clicked the on button, his next words broadcasting too all of the Torchwood 24 employees like a manager in a food mart.

"Uh.......I've got something, not really urgent...well....ok, it's urgent." His words were jumbled and felt strange in his mouth as he tried to spit out what he was seeing. "Torchwood 10 is dead."
___________________________________________________
Word Count 1545
Graphics Mine
Lyrics "It's Been Awhile" by Staind
Notes None
^
Seth Ashbourne
Posted: Jul 26 2010, 11:01 AM


Seth Ashbourne
Group Icon

Group: Torchwood
Posts: 248
Member No.: 201
Joined: 7-May 10



I'm worst at what I do best...
user posted image user posted image
... And for this gift I feel blessed


* * *


It was almost midday in London. The imperial city had been awake for hours, and all its named streets were right then packed with masses of people who tried to make their way through the chaotically busy streets, towards their own destination. As for those well-known red and double-decked buses, -the classical addition to the vast list of icons that served as reminiscent of the city beyond the barriers of this very isle- they sped along the roads, lessening the authority and beauty that some cars might acquire whenever they were on their own.

Seth stared at the sight that was laid before him on the other side of the open window. He welcomed the fresh morning breeze, breathing in as he noticed the gentle wind caressing his skin. Okay, so this was obviously nothing compared to the purity of the air that any ordinary village could offer, but this was more than enough to keep a man who had spent almost his entire life in the capital comfortably happy. Besides, from where he stood, he could also get a glimpse of Kensington Gardens, which was to him the next best thing –well, sort of, anyway; after all, how many people could claim to live in a big city with a really large park beside their residence?

Seth walked away from the window, leaving it open to freshen the room, and he drew out the old-fashioned silver curtain so that every corner of the room could be properly illuminated without having to resort to an additional and more artificial lighting. This precise fact was one of the things he loved most about his office. True: it wasn’t precisely big nor spacey; but then again, his job in Torchwood did not require as much room as other people needed in order to do their responsibilities properly: just as long as Seth could have a large table in his office, and shelves where he could keep all of his large piles of paperwork neatly organized, he would be overly fine with the rest.

Another thing he liked about his particular bureau was that it was immediately adjacent to his own personal room. These two shared very similar dimensions, although you could say that the latter was not as well illuminated as the former. Nevertheless, in an attempt to make up for it, Seth had ordered its walls to be fully painted in white. This had occasionally gained some witty remarks from several comrades who claimed that its appearance was more like the room of a hospital than that of an ordinary dorm.

Oh, well.

Seth closed the door to his room, and loosened the knot of the navy blue striped tie he was right then wearing. He took off his black suit jacket, placed it in the hanger with one swift wave of arm, and he let himself fall in his bed. He was already feeling exhausted, and the day had barely even started. Then again, he had just returned from a personal meeting with the Prime Minister… so who wouldn’t, in his case? Negotiations with the Government had never been easy, and ironically enough, Britain was currently one of the toughest ones when it came to that aspect. In spite of this apparent contradiction, this was all fairly understandable to Seth’s eyes; after all, it had been Torchwood the one who had opened the gates for the Cybermen to come down to Earth, thus preparing the scenario for the consequent Battle of Canary Warf. Both Queen and Government had banned that particular branch of Torchwood after that catastrophic event, suing them for any unquestionable actions and banning their access to every source of information, including those who were not so overly important. Seth wasn’t expecting them to simply accept the fact that things had changed right away. It was all a matter of time, he guessed – or maybe hoped- before they could fully gain their trust. On the bright side, though, you could say that they were not displeased with Torchwood 24, especially now that they were starting to see how things actually worked. But still… there was no denying the fact that there was much yet to do.

In an attempt to place aside these thoughts, Seth got up from his bed, walked out of his room, and headed towards the kitchen –or rather, the place where food supplies were stored. Once he arrived at the hallway where the archives and cells were placed, he could not help but sigh and roll his eyes at the extremely loud music that could only come from a wood-stained door located on the other end of the hallway.

“Conor…” Seth muttered to himself through clenched teeth as he placed both hands in his ears while walking, until the music was out of reach.

Some minutes later, after having prepared a nice warm cup of Earl Grey tea, Seth marched up the staircase again with every intention of enjoying his drink, peacefully, in his room. He was almost there, mind you: his hand was already placed on the door handle when heard Conor’s words.

"Uh.......I've got something, not really urgent... Seth raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at that… well....ok, it's urgent." …and snorted. This expression, though, soon changed when he processed the following sentence.

"Torchwood 10 is dead."
Oh, hell.

It took Seth two accurate seconds to react, and when he did so, he retraced his steps at a fairly quick pace towards the hallway where Conor was normally located. Well, if he wasn’t there, it obviously meant that he was already in the assembly room -which would probably be the case- but Seth just wanted to see if he could get something out of him beforehand. What did he mean by saying “Torchwood 10, dead”? Internet connections running down… possibly? No… not just that; it wouldn’t be too surprising, surely… Furthermore, he just couldn’t picture Conor alerting the whole building like that, just because of some ordinary lapse.

“Okay: can anyone fill me in with the details, please? he called out to no one in particular ”What’s ‘Torchwood 10, dead’ supposed to mean?” Seth inquired, practically running down the staircase, also completely oblivious to the fact that he had spilled most of his tea in the process -part of it in his expensive Burberry shirt. ”And thank God that music is off!”


* * *

Word count: 1.064
Lyrics: Smeels like teen spirit - Nirvana
Graphics credit: ¬¬' bit obvious, isn't it?
Notes: …
Mara Evans
Posted: Jul 27 2010, 02:22 AM


I've got NOTHING to lose
Group Icon

Group: Rogue Time Agents
Posts: 88
Member No.: 83
Joined: 1-June 09



Ugh, Mara couldn’t help but think to herself as she rolled her eyes at the computer before her. Could this thing be any more… ancient? True enough, in Mara Evan’s fifty-first century eyes, it was hard to believe that an older computer than the one on ‘her’ desk existed. After all, it was still practically at its dawn of creation – at least in comparison to the time she was from. Then again, Mara didn’t really belong to a specific time anymore. Ever since joining the Time Agency, she found it hard to sit in one place. Missions had taken her all over space and time. At first, she was amazed by all that was around her. And then she decided that she could take advantage of it. After all, things were hard. She had had a family at home, and after they were gone, she was suddenly even more alone. And seeing all of this vast amount of time and space around her? She was nothing. There was mere consolation in the fact that she belonged to it all, could make a difference. But that had never really been enough for her, and she knew it. That was probably why she had been a rebel when the Agency had first existed, and that was certainly one of the many reasons that she followed John Hart when he decided to create his own Rogue version of the Agency when the proper one was reformed.

All the experience that she had gained didn’t help Mara when it came to fighting this old twenty-first century computer, though. She knew how to work it, sure, but it was just annoyingly difficult. The twenty commands that she would need to do one simple thing would take just one. Impatience was certainly prevalent in her personality enough as it was. Having to take three times as long to finish a simple report just because of the time it took to make sure the coding worked properly didn’t help. She got to the body of the report instead, filling it with the information on Torchwood Five from her recent trip there. She was sent often on ‘field trips,’ as it were, in order to make sure the other various Torchwoods were up to standard. Basically, she was Torchwood’s busy-body. Still, there was more to it than that. Sometimes she had to help them with various things, bringing them information or various things from the main headquarters in London that would be too dangerous to send via any other method. She got dragged into things she didn’t want, but there was more to that than just wanting to stay neutral.

It was the fact that she was practically playing the double agent. She wasn’t even from this time period, nor was she even a proper citizen of London, let alone the Earth. When Jack had told them that the twenty-first century was when everything changes, that had certainly gotten John’s attention. What was it about this time period and this planet that got Jack’s interest so? Torchwood could hopefully give them their answer. Not only that, but Torchwood basically oversaw everything that the Earth had to offer: all their secrets, all their technology, and all their alien contact. And even better was the fact that Torchwood Three in Cardiff – Jack Harkness’ Torchwood – was over the Rift in space and time. All sorts of things came through that Rift, and knowing what it was could be important. After all, what if something useful did? And what of this Rift itself? Could it be used to their advantage? Whilst they knew she couldn’t get into Torchwood Three, Mara took the next best thing: Torchwood Twenty-Four. The resurrected London team had maintained their central Torchwood headquarters role, and that was important. From there, Mara could not only watch Torchwood Three, but all the Torchwoods on planet Earth. And even better, she had landed a job as the go-to person for handling the overall Torchwoods. She could stick her nose into their business, get into what was going on there, see how they handled things, and look over everything that came in the various operations.

Mara sent the report off with a satisfied click, inwardly proud that she hadn’t outwardly displayed her utter annoyance at this archaic technology. These people and their gadgets thought they were so advanced and so clever! And they were, at least compared to the rest of their planet who were blissfully unaware of Torchwood even now, with it spread across the globe. But to not know the future, or of other times! The wonder that was time travel! Her wrist practically itched with the absence of her vortex manipulator, but she willed herself to do nothing. Even rubbing her wrist could perhaps draw the eye, and she had no idea who she was dealing with. Though they hadn’t picked up a sign of another Time Agent within the building, that wasn’t to say that they weren’t as clever as she. She leaned back, considering taking her break now. She still had a few more hours of inane sitting around at a desk. Perhaps she could take a walk around, pretending to chat with some of the technology or communication people about some of the other Torchwood facilities so it seemed like she was doing something useful.

When the overhead speaker switched on with a muddled heap of words that hinted at something that was possibly not really but very urgent, Mara sat up straighter. Torchwood 10, dead? What exactly was that supposed to mean? It dawned on her that she would be expected to, as the one that was supposed to head off relations with the other groups and one that even knew of a little communication problem with the team herself, take the initiative and check into whatever this was. She jumped up, adrenaline rushing through her. Not worried for the team as much as interested in what had caused such a terrible thing, Mara leaned over to check her computer to see from where this report had been made. Downstairs in some hidden technology place. Probably a hermit that didn’t like to be bothered whilst looking at alien junk. She smirked, then straightened her jacket and headed off towards the lift. Torchwood 10 had been reported to have failed communications for the last few weeks. The communications people themselves were supposed to get back to her when the problem was fixed. Well… it didn’t look like they were going to at this point.

When she made it to the lower levels, she rushed around the corner excitedly – but trying not to appear outwardly so, for it would be strange to others – trying to instead look concerned and worried about efficiency in taking care of the matter. She came up to the door that she assumed would hide this ‘Conor’ that the plaque indicated, but there was already another there. Mara glanced the man over, biting her lip instead of creating a reaction. Now was not exactly the time to be checking men out, but Mara was hardly from the century that allowed such thoughts not to race through her head. Instead, she merely coughed politely so as to announce her presence. “Um, hello,” she called lightly and somewhat solemnly, slipping into her alternate guise. “Jayna Davis, Torchwood Global Relations. Thought I might be needed is all. What's exactly going on?” She glanced down at the other man’s stained shirt, then looked around at the messy room housing another man in front of a set of computers, raising her eyebrows as she surveyed the scene, hiding the thoughts she currently had run through her mind. At last – something exciting around this place!
Nikita Alexandra
Posted: Jul 28 2010, 02:08 AM


Unregistered









user posted image user posted image user posted image
I'm feeling like I'm headed for a
Breakdown...

______________________________________________


Having finished her usual logging of the data she had managed to collect, she sighed. Her headphones, which were meant to keep everything else out, were for some odd reason, bringing everything in for a change. Every single song, today was reminding her of the people she had buried, the people she had loved. She wondered why everything was tinged with death today. Of course, she did have quite a morbid job, taking the brains of creatures and analyzing them. Perhaps all she really needed was a break.

She pulled off her headphones and got up from her scanning desk, pulling off the glasses that were meant to prevent radiation from entering her eyes. Placing them in the places she had carefully labelled for them on a shelf nearby, she turned from the table rubbing her eyes tiredly. They were swollen. Ugh, she should have got up hours ago, and taken a meal break. She headed for the tiny steel fridge in the corner of the lab which was meant for food. Removing her gloves by the basin next to the fridge, she washed her hands before opening the fridge and reaching for her carefully packed food. A bottle of milk, a large bowl of salad and a massive steak. Nikita had always loved her food. She liked her food healthy, but not that healthy and nothing went wrong like a good steak.

She quickly heated it up in the microwave, before diving into it like quite a pig, realising just how hungry she was. Exhausted too, but Nikita didn't allow herself to feel exhaustion. The meat was giving her some stamina that she desperately needed. This morning, her training had been particularly harsh and it was amazing how empty this place was. You could work for days without meeting someone. Everything was electronically done, the analysis she did, was meant to be sent, or just left at her table. It would be collected. It was very very...inhuman in a lot of ways. She guessed this was a good thing. She didn't like getting close to people anymore. She wasn't used to it.

She finished her food and was about to get to work when suddenly, she heard Conor's voice on the intercom. It sounded like it always did, uncomfortable, as if he didn't know if this was really how it was supposed to sound. However, what he had to say, made her stand stock still. She had heard about Torchwood 10...but the words didn't make any sense. What did he mean dead? Had all their connections to the agency died? She didn't quite understand, but the fact that Conor had taken the effort to actually use the intercom meant that this was really really serious.

All right. Time for action. She grabbed her gun holster off the back of the door and made a beeline for her gloves before tearing her way down to the Lower Levels. Conor's office, Conor's Office...there. Found it! She opened the door, this time, without permission and noticed the crowd first, with a raised eyebrow. Conor looked highly uncomfortable, which was understandable, in his usual messy clothing. Then there was a good looking, irritated man with a ruined shirt, and an extremely attractive efficient looking woman with a certain sort of cool look to her that immediately made Nikita stand up straight.

"Nikita Alexandra, soldier, data analysis, neurobiology expert." She quickly made introductions. "What the heck does Torchwood 10 is dead mean, Conor? Have you lost the signal to their base?" she looked pointedly at Conor as she took a bit of a more vengeful stance, legs apart, arms crossed over her chest.

______________________________________________

Word Count 636
Graphics My Own
Lyrics 'Unwell' by Matchbox Twenty
^
Conor Reiv
Posted: Jul 31 2010, 06:50 PM


Unregistered









user posted image : user posted image : user posted image
Everything I can't Remember -
As messed up as it all may seem.

___________________________________________________

It could be pointed out by someone that blurting out 'Torchwood 10 is dead' after finding the information that Conor did would be somewhat dramatic. In most situations, it would have been - the dead spot in the CCTV being just that - a dead spot. Some sort of power outage or energy spike that caused a concentrated area to loose any kind of technological communications. However, the building that was in the middle of the dead spot, and consequently the only building in the dead zone would automatically rule out any kind of accusations. For, in Conor's case, he was completely justified in saying exactly what he did when he did it. Because no amount of research or hacking would change one simple fact.

He was right.

There was absolutely nothing. Conor's fingers flew over the keyboards, his mind back on the task of pulling any kind of information he could grasp almost before his hand left his rarely used intercom button. There had been no flare of rift activity, and when he rewound the cameras on site, there was nothing strange that would have indicated that there was about to be a huge blackout. But the funny thing about the blackout is that it was localized. Every single technology piece short circuited in the Torchwood 10 hub, but nothing else was touched. The kid that stood right outside the front door, his cell phone to his ear as he walked casualty on wasn't interfered with. He continued to walk, talking japanese into the speaker, unaware that anything had happened in the building next to him. Conor had never seen something so specific that wasn't planned, and that scared him a little bit.

Torchwood 10 hadn't just died, it had been targeted specifically.

He printed out all the information that he had found, jumping out of his chair and standing in front of his wireless printer, literally bouncing around on his bare feet and muttering to the printer "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon."

In the other room of his space, he heard knocking, then a soft thud as his door opened and was roughly brought to a halting stop as it jammed against the old computer monitor that he had stashed behind the doorframe. Either the Torchwood employees had grown weary of standing out front of his office and were coming to get the information instead of waiting for him, or someone was breaking into his room. Conor hoped it was the former - he really did.

Grabbing the paper as soon as the last sheet was printed, Conor dashed out of his bedroom and into the larger room of his adjoined living/working space. He expertly navigated the clutter, approaching the door and stopping fast in his tracks as he saw the amount of people standing right inside his doorway.

There were only three of them, granted - all of them being co-workers of his. But he couldn't stop the panic that started to rise in his throat as he was suddenly overwhelmed. They crowded the doorway, crowded his mind, and he couldn't move. He just stood there, his eyes wide, not even able to blink. The papers i his hand would have fallen to the floor if it wasn't for the death grip he had on them. His breathing was shallow, and his mind started to spin. They were clogging the doorway - he had nowhere to go. Suddenly the room went black and he was small - so small and looking out into the darkness that went on forever and he was in the middle of infinity, but there was no room to move. His knees felt weak, and he almost fell to the floor. His mouth was dry, his chest shallow.

And then it was gone. Conor stumbled back a few steps, coming back to reality physically shocking him. The fit only lasted seconds, but it was enough to shake him. Sometimes he'd get in that state for days, unable to find his way out of the darkness. It was a 'gift' that the rift had been so kind as to leave behind when it took him from his life and dumped him in the past.

He blinked and shook his head, then got back to business. Torchwood 10 - right. No time to let his head wander off. He could have a panic attack later; right now he was needed. Conor took a steadying breath then took a step forward, frowning as he looked at the people in front of him who were uninvited in his housing.

There was a man who seemed to be pissed off - probably because of the stain that ran down the front of his shirt. The other two were women - one in all black and who could have been described as gorgeous if Conor was paying attention to that kind of thing. The other woman just looked plain dangerous, and he couldn't stop a shiver from going down his back. There was something about that woman that he didn't like. Something treacherous about her. Conor made a mental note to dig around a little bit once this whole thing blew over.

His frown grew deeper as the man said something about his music, but decidedly ignored the comment. Conor stepped forward again, getting closer to the trio, but still out of arms reach - he didn't like people touching him, and he didn't want to give anyone a chance.

"You're in my room - why are you in my room?" He muttered, but dismissed it with a wave of his free hand, as if he had been talking to himself instead of the intruders.

They were all curious about what he had said - and they weren't afraid to vocalize it. Conor didn't ask for silence, he just started to talk, waving the papers around in his hand.

"Torchwood 10 is dead, like I said - technically speaking at least. Dunno about the head count - of course, head count is kinda funny to say. What if their heads weren't connected to their bodies, but still in the building? Would they count as a head count?" He shook his head, getting off topic. He glanced at the papers and held out the first one, almost thrusting it in the annoyed man's face

"Camera's. Dead." He threw the paper behind him like it didn't matter anymore, and thrust the next one into the man's face, just as close. "Mobiles. Dead." Tossed again.

This continued, each paper being thrown in the man's face for just a moment before fluttering to the floor. "Personal electronics. Computers. Laptops. Remotes. Televisions - funny thing about those - you know you can hack a television then use the lens to spy on someone? Landlines. Satellites that 10 can use. Fire alarms. Electronic doors. Microwaves, fridges, Xbox's. Nothing!"

On the last word, Conor threw the rest of the papers in his hands up, watching them flutter to the floor. He frowned a moment, his eyes frantically looking about. "Oops." He muttered. He found the sheet he was looking for, this time actually offering it to the angry man.

"I even ran a heat scan on the building using a satellite - I hacked it and took over the controls - you might be getting a call from NASA soon." Conor chuckled, running both of his hands through his hair, making it even more spiky and erratic.

"Found nothing. No heat! Nothing living in the building - nothing human anyway." The last half was spoken quietly, Conor's face growing deadly serious. Then he blinked, and nodded.

"I'm re-tasking satellites in the area to get a better feed, and am working on recovering files from the computers, but I could do it easier on sight. Oh! And I have these robots I've been working on, kinda like the ones that the US uses in bomb situations....only better." He scoffed, like the last two words didn't even need to be said.

"In conclusion - Torchwood 10 is dead." Conor said, shrugging to end his show.
___________________________________________________
Word Count 1347
Graphics Mine
Lyrics "It's Been Awhile" by Staind
Notes None
^
Seth Ashbourne
Posted: Aug 3 2010, 12:53 AM


Seth Ashbourne
Group Icon

Group: Torchwood
Posts: 248
Member No.: 201
Joined: 7-May 10



That life itself would thrust danger in the most unexpected of situations was a truth universally acknowledged. That the standard amount of risk a human would have to face was doubled –even tripled- if you happened to work or Torchwood was no news to those who were or had been involved with this Institution, in one way or another. This was something Seth was perfectly aware of. Even working for Torchwood 24 meant having your own personal quantity of danger. Okay, so maybe we’re not talking about the kind of threats other Torchwood divisions constantly dealt with, but it was still some form or danger, after all.

That was probably why Seth was, though alarmed, not as much as he probably should have been after hearing Conor’s urgent news. Sure, every one of Torchwood 10’s communication systems could have fallen into an absolute zilch… Or whatever this technological expert had spotted. But, honestly! dead?

This was the one word Seth was particularly struggling with. These days, it seemed as if its meaning was way overused; therefore, underrated. Every day, you’d hear tons of people resorting to this four-lettered word; you could almost say that people didn’t find it the least bit hard to fit that noun into almost any type of daily conversation. ‘Oh, no, my battery is dead’, ‘I’m going to die of boredom’… ‘and stop laughing, because this is dead serious’. Of course, we all know how Torchwood’s far from being a joke, but still. Seth couldn’t really picture the whole Japanese division literally dead just because of some abnormal circumstance that might have aroused. True, Torchwood was exposed almost on a daily basis to a great deal of risks… But one might as well want to take into consideration the fact that this worldwide secret organization was also perfectly well-prepared for that. A great deal of power, strength and intellect was required from someone –or something, for all that mattered- in order to to defeat an entire torchwood base, and of course, a great deal more to manage it with effortless detection. Torchwood was powerful, after all. Not only was it powerful but also dangerous, according to many living creatures.

Temporal massive breakdown? Sure. Several important deaths? Well… okay, Seth could buy that. But that was as far as his credibility would allow him to go.

Seth had been the first person to arrive at Conor’s quarters, but it wasn’t long before two other ladies stopped by to join in the party. He bowed his head curtly in their direction after these two gorgeous things introduced themselves. The first one, Torchwood 24’s Global Relations, struck him as curious… as if her thoughts were slightly sidetracked from the current gloomy atmosphere. Then again, maybe it was his imagination toying with him as usual, so he chose to discard that option, at least for the moment. The second one… well, he couldn’t possibly deny this: he found her curious as well, though in a different –maybe more amusing- way… and mainly because of how she had introduced herself. Soldier, data analysis and neurobiology expert? How could she manage that? Did she have time to sleep at all? He highly doubted that. Well, if she wanted to consume her life like that, then good for her: Seth had more than enough with a sole but time-consuming job, thank you very much.

Yeah… just give the man a break. He was having a rough day, after all.

Seth’s mind quickly came back to reality the moment Reiv appeared. The man was fairly concerned, he could tell. Concerned, and disturbed. Seth’s eyes regarded him with mild confusion, while he simply stood there, suddenly motionless as his eyes grew wider with each passing second. For a wild moment, he wondered if his eyes were going to literally pop out of their holes before or[/i] after[/i] he would carve holes in the papers he was right then grasping. Within seconds, and finally coming to the conclusion that he really didn’t want figure this out for himself, a really concerned and worried Seth moved -first hesitantly, then more firmly- towards Reiv. ”Wh- Uh-“ he blurted out incoherently, as he reached for his arm seeing how his legs were at risk of failing him. ”Are you alright? he managed to say, barely a split second before he realized that Conor was starting to recover from his temporal shock. Seeing that the man was quickly regaining his own self, Seth found it appropriate to retrace a few steps, as Conor commenced his speech.

Maybe it was because he was closer to him than the rest of the present company… or maybe because he was the only man apart from him in the room. Seth didn’t quite know for sure, although he reckoned the answer to this following question might have been due to a neat mixture of both.

W h y t h e H E L L w a s h e
T h r u s t i n g E V E R Y p a p e r
A t H I S F A C E ? !


The first one had definitely caught him off guard. Even though he was truly listening to every word Reiv said, his gaze had been diverted, for a brief moment, towards the front of his shirt. Not until then had he paid the slightest attention to the subtle trace of humidity that seemed to have come from the bottom of his expensive white chemise. Seth was so horrified at the discovery of that big, noticeable stain that he could have almost passed out at that very moment. The dismayed look on his face rapidly changed as he was shoved a printed paper sheet inches away from his face; then again, that was just the beginning. With each shoved paper, Seth’s glare stared back at the other man with different but very expressive looks: first came utter surprise, which was quickly followed by open incredulity. And then… then…

Then Seth had to let his hands grasp, forcefully, the nearest object he found at arm’s reach, trying to prevent with all his might the terribly tempting idea of punching Conor in the face. Hard.

"I even ran a heat scan on the building using a satellite - I hacked it and took over the controls - you might be getting a call from NASA soon." Reiv was just then saying.

Hard… and painfully. Very painfully.

The only reason that Seth had for not doing it was the presence of the other two females in the room. (How indecorous it might have looked!) Instead, he chose to pierce Reiv with a flawlessly murderous gaze that evidently spoke for itself.”Well, then” he said, with an incredibly calm voice and a quiet tone that could be best described as soft. His eyes, though… they really betrayed him. ”I’ll be sure to say hello on your behalf” Indeed, there was no need for him to resort to fisticuffs… just now. Because, who knew? This man was unqueeeestionably trying his patience, so it might be wise to save his vengeance for later on. Somehow, Seth had the vague feeling that he was going to need it. Badly.

In spite of the circumstances, Seth’s mind was instantly placed back on track.”Nothing living in the building… are you sure?” he said, stressing that one last word, before he immersed himself again in deep thought.

Completely missing Conor’s speech of robots, Seth turned to face one of the females in the messy room -the cute Torchwood Relations one. ”It’s certainly odd to find this bit of news simply coming out of the blue. Have you noticed anything unusual lately? Nothing strange, nothing particularly curious during these last few weeks from Torchwood 10?” he asked her, in a nicer and much more gentle manner.
Mara Evans
Posted: Aug 8 2010, 01:22 AM


I've got NOTHING to lose
Group Icon

Group: Rogue Time Agents
Posts: 88
Member No.: 83
Joined: 1-June 09



Mara raised her eyes at the newest arrival, seemingly surprised by all that she did. Well, that was a lot for this century – wasn’t it? At least that’s how this other well-dressed (though with a stained shirt) man had looked. She was definitely gorgeous – being from the fifty-first century made Mara see quite differently than these older types of humans – and Mara herself was a touch amused at how her own presence seemed to make this Nikita straighten. If even her Jayna guise could gather that much respect, what would these others think of her true self? Obviously they wouldn’t live to see the day where Mara’s true self would be revealed anyway to Torchwood, if she could help it, but it was an interesting thought in that split moment in the least. ‘Jayna’ was much more reserved than Mara – and that was an understatement. This kind, caring woman that dealt well with others was certainly a guise that was difficult for Mara. Still, she had to keep up the act, for anything closer to her own personality in that regard wouldn’t be all too… popular. From how the other Time Agents had acted with her, Mara seemed the type of person that one could love to hate. Even her boss, John Hart, wasn’t exactly her best friend; far from it really. They seemed to get along together well enough so that the job got done, and probably only did as well as they did because of their common end goals. ‘Jayna’ could be similar enough to Mara in regards to efficiency, stubbornness, and determination. It just seemed that those qualities took a completely different meaning when the bearer was kind versus rude. Anyone that knew Mara would understand what was meant by that.

The presumed Conor Reiv appeared not long afterwards, seemingly upset by the current prospect that he now faced: three people were in his doorway. Mara could recognize signs of a sort of panic across his features as he froze. She plastered a concerned frown on her face, took a step forward, and then, as though thinking better of it, retreated again so that she didn’t trap him further. In reality, Mara was minorly annoyed with the man. Here he was, locked away in his own clustered corner in the basement of Torchwood, and he was still able to get freaked out by people in his doorway trapping him in the room? At least that was what she was assuming was wrong with him, the way he was stuck for a moment in a sort of small horror at his current situation. She forced herself to keep her troubled gaze, however, and remained quiet on the subject. He suddenly started again, stepping backwards, shaking his head, and seemingly fine once more – despite muttering something about them being in his room. She counted that as her assumption being right, but still kept quiet. After all, she had seen something pass through his eyes when he looked at her. Was it suspicion? She’d have to keep her eyes on him; perhaps he thought something odd of her. In the same breath, she could sense something a little… off about him, too, and it went beyond his strange little issue of his space being intruded upon. She couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but she decided that it might be important. She’d have to keep an eye on him to find out for sure. If it was useful, she’d certainly need to use it to her advantage.

Finally, this Conor started in on what had happened to Torchwood 10. Mara leaned forward again, eager to get in all the details. Even if this had nothing to do with helping out with the Time Agency, at least they could get in on some sort of mission. Perhaps even field-work would be involved, especially if this group really was dead. Would they have to go out to Japan to investigate? It seemed very likely. In fact, Mara would probably suggest it – it seemed very likely that a team would need to be dispatched. She listened, making a weird face at the head count concern, then nodded for him to continue on with the proper statistics and readings. He began tossing papers in the other man’s face, and ‘Jayna’ winced a little the odd display. Conor spoke of everything being dead – cameras, mobiles, computers, televisions, fire alarms – everything was dead. Even Mara was a bit surprised at this. A whole unit of Torchwood completely dead? That would explain why they had such strong issues with their communications not working – it was either that, or there was a massive building failure and everyone had escaped. It would have been strange though, for the somewhat sizeable team there in Japan would have gotten in contact with the London Headquarters. It seemed like there was nothing to be found – through electronics and without being physically there, at least. She was about to ask if he had used a satellite to check their building, but he mentioned that he had already done so. She smiled a little at this. She was actually a little amused by Conor’s strangeness now, though perhaps it was a sarcastic sort of amusement. It would have certainly been different if the paper waving had been done in her face instead of this other man’s. But, as it were, Conor was on her mind as one of her more well-liked ‘co-workers’ – at this point, anyway.

He mentioned NASA calling soon, made a slight chuckle, but then got serious as he said there was no heat in the building. Mara frowned. Absolutely nothing? When he said no humans, she raised her eyebrows. Torchwood did deal with aliens. But it begged the question of ‘why?’ If these were aliens of some kind, at least, why had they chosen Torchwood as their target for… whatever it was? Was there a reason for this specific branch as well, or was it just enough that it was Torchwood, no matter the number and location? Conor mentioned trying to get better feed, but somehow, Mara didn’t know if that’d be good enough. Perhaps there was no team to find – alive, anyway. She had a feeling that something sinister could have done something like that to a Torchwood station. Despite being a not very well-known planet, Earth still seemed to have a knack for drawing in some pretty hostile creatures. In addition, even with Mara’s annoyance at how ‘primitive’ systems of all types could be during this time period, she still (grudgingly) was surprised at how well of a system Torchwood could be, internationally. It’d have to be something pretty strong that Earth at this time had not yet come into contact and could not handle.

Mara found the man in the suit turning to address her, and she raised her eyebrows, as though eager to help. Again, something half-Mara, half-Jayna. Whilst she wouldn’t normally seem so kind about helping, Mara at least was curious about what was going on here, and she wanted to know what it was. Of course she’d help, if that meant finding out what was happening – and her getting some sort of actual adventure for once in this century. He asked her if there had been anything lately strange about Torchwood 10. She nodded. Just the thing that she had been needed for, as well. “Their communications have been off for the last few weeks,” she said quickly. She reached into the bag she had brought and hurriedly pulled up a small laptop that she carried with her when she did her Torchwood work. Obviously, it was a clean computer – she wouldn’t be stupid enough to do anything suspicious on what could be defined as their ‘company’ materials. She opened it and balanced it on her right forearm, typed in a few quick commands, then brought up the log of recent activity that she had started for Torchwood 10. “See these? This dates a few weeks before their disappearance. Nothing abnormal.” She hit another few keys, then nodded as new data appeared. “And this is the sudden drop of activity.” She kept the laptop held on her arm for the others to look at, but then turned her gaze to them, business-like. “I’ve been in contact with our communications department. They were supposed to be working out the matter, since they had assumed it was something merely wrong with their communications. Needless to say, that problem wasn’t exactly as well checked into as I would have liked.” She looked at Conor specifically. “But this is the first we’ve heard of anything this massive concerning them. If you can’t find anything on the satellite readings – and with this communications problem having been for a few weeks – we may need to go out there ourselves and check on them. There may be something dangerous at play here.”
Nikita Alexandra
Posted: Aug 8 2010, 03:21 AM


Unregistered









user posted image user posted image user posted image
I'm feeling like I'm headed for a
Breakdown...

______________________________________________


So, Torchwood 10 really was dead. And dead as a set of doornails. There was zero communication, zero use of electronics, zero use of base machinery, which meant that everything on the base itself was not being used, had been destroyed, and in other words, the base had been abandoned or everyone was still in there...except there were no pulses. Which was a terrible thought. MIA, Nikita could deal with. She had been there when many of her comrades had gone AWOL or MIA. But the odds were, even back then, that they were buried under some kind of rubble.

The kind of information she was getting, cold as it may sound, it meant that they were dead. Every single one of them was dead. And all that they needed to do was go down there, investigate, and come to the conclusion they all knew they were coming to. They would also probably need to clean up the mess, inform families, forward any paychecks to the next of kin. It was going to be a long few days. Which was made even longer by the fact that Torchwood 10 was in Asia. She had looked up Torchwood locations over the last few days, and this wasn't really helpful information, but it did let her know how to acclimatise her body for the situation, especially in regards to her training.

Symptomatically, Nikita realised that this was Torchwood 24's team. In other words, these people were her team mates and they had to work together to figure out this problem. Now, two thoughts hit her all at the same time because of this realisation. The first of which was, really? The second of which was more or less along the lines of, oh good god, I have to work with people? Nikita wasn't good with people, she never had been, not since she had learnt from an early age not to trust anyone and her soldier's training made her even more suspicious. And her scientific research kept her even more reclusive than most.

She inspected her team mates for a moment. The as yet unnamed good looking man, was listening into the conversation interestedly, his mind seemed quick at processing these things. Also, he had a decent body, which meant he could be useful in a fight. Conor was, as always uncomfortable and fragile looking, but he looked like he could handle his own in a fight, and besides that, the man was a genius. The attractive, efficient woman, Jayna was speaking, she was showing them the information in regards to activity over at Torchwood 10, perhaps giving them a clue in regards to their whereabouts, and whether there was even an off chance anyone was alive. Fact of the matter was, no one was alive. She shook her head. "They're all dead. I've had a gut instinct for days but being new, I've just ignored it. Fact of the matter is, the lab where I work, a computer keeps a log of how many times the Torchwood doors around the world open and close, you need a key. I need to check it every day before I leave and leave the report on my desk every evening. The Torchwood 10 doors haven't opened or closed in days. I have left a note many times and even shot off several emails regarding the information, but it's all gone unanswered. I was even told that I was making a big deal out of nothing. Fact is. If there is anything in there, it doesn't have a pulse." She was surprised at her own choice of words, but shook it off.

She looked over to Conor, "Conor, could you send all the information you've discovered over to Pete Tyler's desk?" She then turned to look over at Seth and Jayna "We also need to forward a request for vehicles, travel, and other necessities. I'll take care of everything." She shook her head. She needed to get home and pack as well. But before that, she needed to do all plausible organisation for the trip. She could however, use some help. "We have a lot of work to do. We need to investigate, and in case of any form of dysfunction, clean up the mess, and the bodies, inform next of kin and deal with all further aftermath, including equipment movement."

There was no doubt about it in her mind what was to be done and how this was to be handled. However, this was sometimes what people looked at about her and called cold. She just didn't believe in mincing words. If they were in trouble, then they were in trouble, and she would have said so. But the truth was, if nothing was being used, not even electricity, then there wasn't anything in there that needed electricity, food or water.

______________________________________________

Word Count 832
Graphics My Own
Lyrics 'Unwell' by Matchbox Twenty
^
Conor Reiv
Posted: Feb 18 2011, 10:34 PM


Unregistered









user posted image : user posted image : user posted image
Everything I can't Remember -
As messed up as it all may seem.

___________________________________________________


The papers fluttered to the ground, lying there uselessly as Conor finished his speech. He was breathing slightly hard, more from the fact that he had forgotten to breath during his spiel than actually working. He wasn't able to stay still for long, fidgeting as he waited for the response from the three people who were ohmygodcrowdinginhisFACE. His head twitched sideways a moment and he stalled, his eyes searching someplace else; anywhere else but towards the doorway, which was being blocked from his view. There was another way out, of course. Conor wouldn't hole himself in a death trap. He had learned not to do that...or had he? He couldn't remember. He paused, waiting to see if something would flash through his mind, like a memory. Sometimes he would smell things. Other times there would be images. This time, though, there was nothing but that sense of paranoid that constantly followed him around. Oh, what fun.

Conor drifted back into reality just in time to hear the man in front of him crack some kind of joke. Of course, Conor being himself, didn't register the sarcasm. He tilted his head sideways in thought and his eyes squinted into beads. "...why would you say hi to NASA. Don't mention my name, at least. They don't really like me..." He drifted off, his head snapping around as his eyes searched the room. There it was, the tail end of a robot sticking out from his piles of perfectly organized chaos. If one was to look closely, they would see the NASA insignia faded on the corner of the metal. It wasn't Conor's fault, he swears. It wasn't his fault that NASA just happened to be working on a Mars clone the same time that he decided to send his home-made satellite into orbit. They were supposed to be the geniuses, after all.

"Nothing living." Conor wrinkled his nose. "It really is odd. No nothing. cockroaches, rats, mosquitoes. All dead, nothing with a heartbeat or soul...that's an interesting thought, actually. Do insects have souls? Do we have souls...? Anyway, I did every scan possible, and a few that I'm not even sure should exist. There is nothing living in that building. Of course, living is the key word there... He drifted off, realizing that the man had turned away from him and was focusing on one of the women in the group.

That woman - the one that gave him the strange impression. She pulled out a laptop and started to rattle off. He focused less on her words and inched around the company so that his eyes could read off of her shoulder. He stayed far enough away so that they wouldn't accidentally come in contact. His eyes swept across her screen, taking in the information and digesting it, spitting it back out in English. It was as if he was fluent in the language of machines. It was easier this way, reading the raw data. Going through people was always such a bother, they had to add their own opinion and chose the right words, and suddenly the meaning was lost within the babble. Data, data, data. Numbers never lied, it was the humans that typed them into the system that was the weakness. Conor blinked.

He went to reply to the woman, tell her that of course he was sure, it was his job, wasn't it? When Nikita spoke up. This woman, Conor knew. She had stumbled across him the first few days of her job, and while Conor didn't have any friends, he was closer to this woman. She actually talked to him, when she saw him. Dedicated to the job, and naive enough to love it. He focused on her.

Send the information to Pete Tyler. Consider it done. Requests for vehicles and equipment. Not his problem. Going to Japan to check it out. Wait. What?

"Go to Japan?" Conor said, suddenly realizing exactly what was happening in front of him. He shook his head, backing away slowly. "No. Sorry, you guys go. Have a nice trip, I hear the weather is nice this time of year. I'll send my robot and monitor from here." Conor hadn't been out of London since he had been taken by the rift all that time ago. That being said, he barely stepped foot outside. It was too loud, too full in people who knew where they were coming from and where they were going, and Conor didn't know enough to be able to fit in with those kinds of people. He couldn't do it. And getting to Japan meant flying. Getting into a tube of metal and trusting your life to it. No. Way.


___________________________________________________
Word Count 800
Graphics Mine
Lyrics "It's Been Awhile" by Staind
Notes None
^
Seth Ashbourne
Posted: Feb 20 2011, 10:16 AM


Seth Ashbourne
Group Icon

Group: Torchwood
Posts: 248
Member No.: 201
Joined: 7-May 10



I'm worst at what I do best...
user posted image user posted image
... And for this gift I feel blessed


* * *


Anyone who knew Seth Ashbourne would know how knowledgeable he really was in terms of verbal communication. Well, let’s face it: he wasn’t precisely Government Liaison for no reason at all… and one thing he was remarkably good at: languages. In fact, Seth mastered lots and different types of useful and everyday tongues. English was his speciality, of course, very closely followed by a fluent, inherent and roughly abusive use of sarcasm. Next in line was swearing, along with some pretty decent Spanish. And this was probably why his lips twitched almost too involuntarily when Conor spoke again, telling Seth not to mention his name to NASA because they really didn’t like him.

Slightly mocking and very fake surprised eyes were quick to find those of Conor, and from his lips escape a sentence that was voiced out loud before he had even had time to process it.


”Oh, you don’t say.”


Then all of a sudden those two other females started to swap their own pack of facts and deductions, and Seth went silent in thought, wondering. Where they all on the same wavelength now? Because Seth was starting to presume just exactly what was going to befall them, and he wasn’t really sure whether to take this as a good idea or a bad thing. Should he be thrilled about being a part of a field trip? Well, technically, he should. Being Government Liaison implied a scarce to none set of adventures, and Seth currently felt like doing something different for a change. Yes, different was always good, but generally, every alluring proposal came along with those unfortunate shortcomings that usually made more harm than good.

Seth’s current shortcoming was the fact that he didn’t know anyone in the team with which he was obviously going to travel with, and while the male had definitely nothing against thick novels and sudokus, Seth highly doubted these pastimes to be capable of sufficing him on a more than twelve-hour flight to Japan.

In an act that was more unconsciously done than processed by his brain, Seth’s left hand went to one of the pockets of his trousers, and pulling out his cell phone, the man started to toy with the device, his fingers spinning it gently while he pondered the idea of calling someone he knew would be useful for their expedition. Someone like… Melody, for instance, the other alien expert in this London branch of Torchwood. Would she be thrilled about this expedition? Oh, he wouldn’t know. One thing he knew, though, was that she was definitely on amiable terms with him, and having someone nice and talkable around the place was a definite plus to Seth right then, who was often made aware of how stand-offish he looked to many strangers, but did little to change his ways.

Unlocking his thin black cell phone, Seth took out his pen and started tapping the item noiselessly against the touch screen of his mobile to flesh out his message to Melody.
    Something’s going on with Torchwood 10.
    The place is 100% devoid of life.
    You’re needed,
    Come soon.
    -Seth.


…And within seconds, this text message was sent to his addressee, accompanied by one small beep.

Mind focused on the conversation once again, Seth had landed just in time to hear the last bit of Nikita’s speech. It didn’t help that she had said something about her having to check frequently how many times Torchwood’s doors are opened and closed; Seth fought really hard to bite back a laugh, and was sure that he would have been remarkably successful were it not for the betraying glint in his pair of ocean eyes, which were now very strangely focused on his shoes.

Seth’s head turned upwards when this same female started to list out all the things that needed to be done. Stretching his hands in a ‘whoa there’ manner he turned to her with a genuinely amused glance that was entirely devoid of mockery, cynicism or anything else of the sort. ”Hold it, Colonel…” he started saying, suddenly realizing that perhaps he was the only person in the room who knew of the existence of the 1980s ‘the A-Team’ series. Then again, did this really matter? Seriously, Seth. Seriously. ”…I think you’re forgetting one tiny little detail here.” he continued, nonetheless.

Not really one to jump right into the thick of things, Seth had always been the kind of person who’d rather sit on the sidelines until he could have it all more figured out… more well thought. His next words were addressed to everyone, and so his gaze hopped from one person to another as he resumed his speech. ”We can’t just hop all four of us on a flight to Japan and investigate –not just like that, anyway… - I mean, we don’t even know with what we’re going to deal with. There’s only four of us at present, and all of Torchwood 10 is dead! Come on. Has it even crossed your mind that we might not stand the slightest bit of chances against this new and unknown threat?” Was this only making sense to him, he wondered? Seth tilted his head to one side, and dearly hoped not. ” All I know is, we need some kind of back-up. Small gadgets, big gadgets... anything varied -and portable at least, nothing as big as a tank, obviously- because I think we’re going to need a whole lot more than files and facts on the whole matter if we’re going to go to Japan.“Seth concluded, then turned to face the tech geek. ”You know I don’t really like you all that much” he added very as a matter-of-factly ”but those robots you’ve mentioned, are they too big to take on an expedition? Because I was actually liking the sound of them…”

Unexpectedly so, Seth found his words being shook off by the man’s refusal to join in the expedition. It took him a pair of seconds to react, during which he had remained completely rooted to the spot. That is, before he spoke again. ” Oh, no way, Jose. You are the technology specialist, Conor Reiv. You are coming with us.”



( words: 1029 )
Dominic Mitchell
Posted: Feb 25 2011, 05:40 AM


Unregistered









So this is want it meant when someone was brushed out of the way and forgotten about? a desk, an office and a job that was top secret and out of the public eye. Well it might not have been what Dominic Mitchell has been used to in the past, back when he was as SAS soldier but it was ten times better than the other option he was faced with a few months previously. At least here in this shiny and dull office place he could continue to do work that helped protect the United Kingdom from harm, even if it was from harm that, a few months ago Dominic thought was nothing more than science fiction. Even now after going through briefing after briefing with scientists and senior staff people who had the clearance to know about Torchwood. Dominic still couldn´t get his head around other life forms and things that wasn´t from earth, he had trouble keeping track of threats and enemies that were earth based and now he had to worry about an entire universe of lord knows what.

On top of that he had to make sure that the public at large carried on with their tiny little lives none the wise of what really was out in the cosmos. This situation Dominic had choice might have been better than prison, but there was still draw backs and things that he didn´t like about it. The office he had been given was just one of the many things he didn´t like, not to say that his new office wasn´t bad or smaller than others. It just felt claustrophobic and lifeless, like the place had been designed by a computer or someone that wanted to make everything look and feel standard. The whole building was most likely finished off by pencil pushing dumbbells that had no free will or foresight of their own to brighten this place up a little.

At the time of the message being piped through the main comm. system, Dominic was starring out of the window of his office. At the street below dressed in his new uniform which was an all in one black suit that made him look like any other government dumbbell in the building. As the words Torchwood 10 is dead rang through his ears, Dominic shakes his head from side to side with a soft sigh escaping his lips. "Oh how the mighty have fallen" He thinks to himself as he slowly walks out of his office and makes his way to see what the commotion was all about.

Dominic hadn´t been assigned here for that long it was coming close to about two months, but before he arrived here. Dominic being the solider he is, took it upon himself to read through as many personal profiles as he could. He hadn´t read through all of them but he had read through the ones he felt were going to be important to remember. When he arrived here one of the first things Dominic did was go around everyone’s office just to introduce himself and to get a layout of where everyone’s place and office was. Not only was it common sense when starting in someplace new, it was something any solider would have done when arriving in a new battle field even if there was no fighting taking place.

By the time Dominic arrived at the office where the call came from, there was already a few good people already assembled and in deep discussion about the situation. There were a few faces Dominic had seen and met before, but most of the faces were unfamiliar and alien to the ex-solider.

"....I mean, we don’t even know with what we’re going to deal with. There’s only four of us at present, and all of Torchwood 10 is dead! Come on. Has it even crossed your mind that we might not stand the slightest bit of chances against this new and unknown threat?”

”but those robots you’ve mentioned, are they too big to take on an expedition? Because I was actually liking the sound of them…”


That was the point in the conversation where Dominic came into it and even thought he didn´t know the full details of the situation, he had to agree with what was said even if it came from a pencil pusher. "I have to agree with the pencil pushing big nose here...there’s no way of knowing what you´ll be going into. Rather I should say what WE’LL be going into". Dominic knew some people might think of it as being rude to enter into a conversation half way through, but that was just his way of being direct and making his presence known to the group already assembled.
^
Nikita Alexandra
Posted: Apr 20 2011, 09:42 AM


Unregistered









user posted image user posted image user posted image
I'm feeling like I'm headed for a
Breakdown...

______________________________________________


They couldn't have been more different and this was certainly one hell of a way to meet. She watched Conor back away and sighed. She knew this would be difficult for him. He sometimes showed classic symptoms of shell shock and this wasn't actually the best job for someone with shell shock to have. "Conor, you have to come. I'm sorry, but I do not think any of us has the kind of tech skills that you do. I could try but I'm a data expert and a field agent. Machines aren't as much my thing as they are yours." That actually hurt to admit and for Nikita to say something to that effect, it had probably thake a lot of effort. She had always driven for perfection, but perfection sometimes completely eluded her, and she had seen Conor work. He treated his gadgets like they were his children.

"Hold it, Colonel…We can’t just hop all four of us on a flight to Japan and investigate –not just like that, anyway… - I mean, we don’t even know with what we’re going to deal with. There’s only four of us at present, and all of Torchwood 10 is dead! Come on. Has it even crossed your mind that we might not stand the slightest bit of chances against this new and unknown threat?"

Nikita's eyes narrowed as she turned to look at the man who had spoken. As a soldier, she really didn't like her authority being questioned in any way, especially since no one else was coming up with any bright ideas. "It's Lieutenant, actually." she corrected him, rather coldly. "And those were people in there. I am aware that Torchwood is a secret organisation, but some of these people supported families with their jobs. Maybe even had children." She looked over to the tall man again, "Also, I am a soldier. It is hard wired in my DNA to always be prepared and ready. Three days is more than enough time. This is Torchwood, not Nasa." The corners of her lips almost rose at her own joke, but that's about as much amusement Nikita showed on her face around here.

She was distracted by a beep. Her phone. She looked down and whipped it out to see a name that she had only saved as a number. 1. It was one of the leads on her daughter.

"Have information. Will meet you behind St. Paul's at midnight tonight. Bring cash."

Her fingers shook for a fraction of a second as she punched out a "Done." Her head raised and she was as composed as she was before.

And then, out of the blue came a voice that sounded almost familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She turned around and her brow raised when she saw the military stance of the man. Maybe he had done a stint in Afghanistan. Then again, maybe not, she thought as she heard him speak. "Kindly state your name and designation. And before we do any more name calling around here, I would appreciate if we all realised that we are a team and are meant to work together as one."

______________________________________________

Word Count 554
Graphics My Own
Lyrics 'Unwell' by Matchbox Twenty
^
Mara Evans
Posted: May 25 2011, 11:31 PM


I've got NOTHING to lose
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Group: Rogue Time Agents
Posts: 88
Member No.: 83
Joined: 1-June 09



Mara listened as the other woman in the gathered group injected her own information and feelings. She kind of figured that she was going a bit overboard in her thinking that the group was dead. Really, there was a chance that they were alive – or in suspension of some sort, dying, or otherwise bound up somewhere. But still, there was a chance they were alive. She didn’t really necessarily care either way, to be frank, but she really was interested in whatever could have possibly have caused such a thing to seemingly wipe out an entire branch of Torchwood like that. Nikita was already talking about travel plans, with which Mara agreed – but she was also already going on about talking to the ‘next of kin’ and all those things with which these twenty-first century humans seemed to place so much important upon. She nodded in agreement, but inwardly was holding back a little snort.

Then, Mara had to do everything in her power to hold back her own part of her personality. Jayna couldn’t be seen to be so negative and so very annoyed by pathetic people just as Conor Reiv. He went from amusing to very incompetent in a matter of seconds. The fact that he was so obviously uncomfortable with all the people around him was enough to make her want to make the environment all the worse for him, but she couldn’t actually mess with her co-workers in such a way. Perhaps when this was all said and done with, she could actually get back at these bloody annoying people. They better provide information for their little Rogue Agency, or this would have been damn near useless. The only thing that was helping was the fact that this little event was making her terribly curious. At least it would break up the monotony around there. She had to leave sometimes at night via wrist strap from the apartment in which she supposedly lived. How people could live in one place and time, she could never know. He wasn’t ready to pack up and leave to investigate like the rest of them were, and she held her tongue before she said something she would regret.

The suited man was still obviously not amused by Conor either, but he was much less skilled at hiding it. He apparently didn’t care much about what others thought of him – or at least of what Conor thought of him. Perhaps it was because he was finding him awfully inefficient, like she was at the moment. The man was obviously skilled in electronics and technology of the time period, but why did he have to be so incompetent when it came to dealing with his co-workers and actually leaving his comfort zone to do his job. Sure, Jayna didn’t quite understand Earth in this century and their way of life, but she could at least semi-appreciate the fact that humans in this era were ready and willing to throw themselves into their work. At least the suited man was more concerned with things that mattered and ready to address it. He was being much more practical, saying what they needed to do before they actually left. Mara nodded in agreement, this time not having to fake such a simple action. She could definitely see this man to be a type of rival or threat to her, but at least he was getting things done properly.

Another man arrived just after the suited man had insisted that Conor was coming with them – at which Mara had to hide a little smirk – and she cast an interested look at him. He was fit and looked like he was ready for action. She didn’t recognize him, but he was obviously Torchwood. He also seemed to think that was going with them, without exactly asking what was going on and what they were even doing. Nikita was the first to speak after he did, and Mara turned to watch the others’ reactions. Working together as a team. Ah, yes. Again with the overly sentimental actions of this century. It was so thrillingly dull, she could hardly stand it. Yet, again, she could hardly express as much. The dedicated Jayna persona couldn’t be broken, and she couldn’t give herself away. Instead, her eyes widened barely in mock-interest, and she looked at everyone, as though trying to rally their spirits. “Agreed,” she said, giving Nikita a look to show that she was on her side. “We need to get past our little problems and start trying to get things done around here. Like you said,” she paused, nodding to Seth, “we can’t just run into it, though. We’re going to need to get more intel – and to figure out how to protect ourselves, in case things go sour. We need to get those travel plans, more information, weapons, technology…” She glanced at Conor, feeling satisfaction at her next statement but not really showing it. “And unfortunately, we’ll need the technology man to go with it.”


(OoC: Guess I should've realized that I needed to go too. Sorry about that! Hope we can move it forward during the summer!)
Seth Ashbourne
Posted: Feb 18 2012, 08:59 AM


Seth Ashbourne
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Group: Torchwood
Posts: 248
Member No.: 201
Joined: 7-May 10



...


The Japanese branch of Torchwood was a large and modern-looking building located in the middle of… nowhere, really. Prepared to be forgotten to the world, to anyone who looked at it with a passing eye, it consisted of one two-stored construction, and seemingly it looked as though it was a modern office that belonged to some forsaken company of sorts.
To Seth Ashbourne, who had thrice been there already, it was a great facility dedicated to the experimentation of new technology and most alien discoveries. But the best part of this Torchwood branch in Seth’s opinion just had to be its massive underground labyrinth, where almost every experiment was conducted and safely tested.

It had been quite shocking to find that this one branch had been affected in such a tragic way. Seth knew these people; all so hard working and devoted to their work, it was hard to find them being tricked by something to death. Although it wasn’t death, was it? About a week or so ago, Connor and his magical technology had been able to track and find every one of Torchwood’s occupants. Yes, that was the good news.

The bad one?

Every single one of them were brain dead.

Whooopsie.

With one swift movement of hand, Seth closed the door of his black vehicle. The wind was fierce, hitting his skin hard, with a rather uncommon ferocious strength. Seth looked at the building with a neutral, almost inexpressive glare, while he inwardly wondered how on earth he had been talked into being a part of this ‘small’ field trip. This was a dangerous game to play, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to take part in it. But of course, his presence was, to some extent, as they had phrased it, strictly necessary. Of course, the man was one of the very few, if not the only one, who could make his way around the interior of the building, and know exactly where he was –or even better: where the main exit entrance was located from there.

Enveloped by the rather cold climate of the area, Seth started walking closer towards the Torchwood building. No news there; he had come there on his own. Since these type of improvised tasks didn’t usually fall anywhere near his to-do list, and his agenda was a very tight one, he had had to work hard, supremely hard to fit in all that had been scheduled for these coming days into the week before, preferably, then the week after. It hadn’t been an easy task.

Ferocious wind notwithstanding, his generally well cared hair was now ruffled, flying every which way, his gray-green eyes were enveloped by dark, bruised, tired skin, and the features that were… well, featuring his face were something children had nightmares of. Thankfully enough, his well cared, flawlessly ironed black Armani suit was there to save the day, and make Seth look a little more presentable, perhaps a bit too presentable for the task that was at hand. But he could never do with anything less than a suit. Suits were practically his everyday uniform, and since they were, then Seth couldn’t really fathom why he would have to dress differently in this occasion.

But that wasn’t the point. Point was, that Seth was rather a bit exhausted that day. You see, the man usually defined days as the time that was spent between periods of sleep. Whether the sun rose or sank meant nothing to him besides the necessity to flick on a lamp or two. So this day now was on its forty-third hour. He hadn’t been able to get some sleep during the flight, because he had brought with him some work that needed some catching up to do on the plane. And before getting himself a rented car, he had had to make some business calls. And twice, had he had to interrupt his voyage to answer the phone. At least he wasn’t late for the Torchwood gathering that took place just there, and then.

As it turned out, some Torchwood members have found it impossible to come, so Seth had also had to make some calls to other divisions to see if he could gather a team of a respectable number of people. Hell, if his memory wasn’t failing him, he had enlisted at least one person from Torchwood 21, the outer space division. Heh. Some kind of mission, this one was going to be.

There was already a group of people gathered around, in front of the building. Hopefully some people had yet to arrive. Upon arriving, Seth bowed his head in salutation. ”Seth Ashbourne, Liaison. And only fashionably late” he added, as he stole a second to glance at his watch.
Kensington Green
Posted: Feb 19 2012, 08:16 AM


The limit does not exist
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Group: Torchwood
Posts: 38
Member No.: 288
Joined: 23-March 11



Kensington was half-paying attention to the work she was doing on her tablet PC and half-wondering whether or not her current situation counted as irony. She'd barely been a month on the station before being called back down to Earth to deliver something to UNIT, then immediately after that little adventure, she'd gotten a text from her brother saying to meet him down at 24 ASAP (the official call-to-arms came to her phone about ten seconds later). She knew that working for Torchwood would be far different from anything she'd imagined signing up for, but she hadn't been aware of how much a space station posting would have her on the ground.

Looking up from the files of the building schematics and security plans, Ken glanced at her brother beside her. He had paper copies of transmissions and data logs sent from the Japanese branch in the days leading up to their technological death and was looking for idiosyncracies or mistranslations from the original Japanese files to the English translation. She could tell he was nervous by the way his fingers were tapping out a steady, lightning-fast cadence on the paper. "Breathe, Hull," she muttered to him. He shot her a glance equal parts sheepish and sour. "Shut it, Pentium," he shot back, using his childhood jab at her computer obsession. Ken rolled her eyes and went back to her schematics. A moment later it was her turn to be sour as the security protocol revealed itself to her...in Japanese. With a few taps on the touchscreen, she'd run the translating software and gone back to work. "You could've just asked me," her brother teased with a grin. Her only response was to roll her eyes again.

The newcomer - Seth Ashbourne, he proclaimed himself to be - took that moment to approach the group and introduce himself. As the other agents were busy doing whatever planning they thought was necessary, Ken and Hull were the only two people left to really give him a proper greeting. "Kensington Green, tech specialist for 21," she replied, looking up from her work and nodding. When Hull said nothing, she stopped tap-typing and raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh - uh - Holborn Green, linguist for 24. Nice to meet you," he said, holding out his hand. Ken suppressed a sigh as she resumed her tapping.

"I've been looking over the security protocol and building schematics," she continued, offering no further introduction or explanation. "This branch designed the security system for 21, so theirs is nearly identical, except it seemed they utilised a lot more alien tech for their system than they did for ours." She said this with no small amount of irritation. "As far as I can tell, the only things that could possibly cause a complete security blackout are one, an EMP, though it would have to be a real hell of an EMP; two, an internal power overload in one of the core computers, or at least one assigned specifically to networking; three, a virus or glitch in forementioned computers, though I can't think of anything that could possibly get through their firewalls; or four, and this is looking to be the more likely one...." She looked at the agent with undisguised worry. "Someone actually shut it off from the inside, like they were purposely cutting themselves off to contain a threat."

Ken shook her head to clear it, going back to her work. "Anyway, I've been trying to get through their security barriers so I can check out their data logs from the past few days - the ones they didn't pass on. Their security system is just close enough to 21's, alien technology nonwithstanding, that I should be able to use the same bypass and override codes to get through."

"Know-it-all show-off," Hull mumbled, surreptitiously stepping on her foot. "Oh, like you're any better, Oxford," Ken hissed, shooting her own childhood jab while elbowing him in the ribs.

"That said," Ken continued, tapping one last command on the tablet screen before letting the machine do its work, "Maybe you can tell us what it is that turned an entire branch into a level of Resident Evil" She looked at Ashbourne rather expectantly; considering the fact that he had introduced himself as a liaison, she was guessing that if anyone had had contact with the Japanese Torchwood branch, it was him. Of course, he could just ignore her question and ream her out for rambling, but Ken was more concerned about a horde (thought that may have been a poor word choice) of agents suddenly going brain-dead and whether or not she and the others who had gathered there were in for the same fate.
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