Authors note: This story is being written under duress. I've been without a computer for a while, thus making it difficult to write. 'Why didn't you just write it the old fashion way? With a pen and paper?' I just can't. Maybe I'm the complete opposite of old fashion. I can't read my own handwriting, and I don't feel I can express myself properly. So, with that said, this is a story I've been writing in my mind to and from work for a couple weeks. It features two characters from The Wire and the idea of Torchwood in America. This story will either end properly, or end when I get this creative burst done with and continue with something entirely original. So, with that said, I a) don't own the Wire. It's far more brilliant than I could ever hope to be, and most importantly, b) hope you all enjoy it. There will be sex, drugs and violence topped off with profanity but so are the last three web sites you probably looked at before you came to this web site, let alone my story.
TORCHWOOD US:
A New Case
-34-
"So that's how you found him huh?" Mcnulty asked. "And I wasn't even done with my case," he added looking down at the body. "I suppose I can get paid for tracking this stupid mope now for as long as I did, but fuck," he said trailing off. The body was laid in the middle of Woodward Avenue, on its back. Its eyes and mouth still both open, as if they were in shock. The only other (yet very obvious) discernible difference the body displayed from being removed from the living aside from the lack of pigment in the skin was a large amount of blood running down its nose.
"We're going to bag him here pretty quick, Jimmy," Earl said. "You had better get clear. My lieutenant is going to have a shit fit if he see's you poking around another scene," he said.
"Yeah, but, this guy- Tommy Heigel, he was someone I'd been following now for a good two weeks." Jimmy squatted down to get a better look at Tommy. "Shit," he said under his breath. "Did anyone even really see what happened?"
"Not really. We got one homeless guy around the way to say that his nose started bleeding and that he was gasping for air, and started stumbling around and that's where he fell." Detectives were taking pictures of the body from every angle. "It's fucked up man."
"So, this is a pretty big production for a medical mishap, don't you think?" Jimmy asked without taking his eyes off the body and doing his own investigation. "And I've never really got a vibe like this from any scene other. Something feels kind of warped here."
"Shit Jimmy! You really used to be a detective, huh?" Jimmy smiled at Earl.
"So what? This isn't the first is it?" Jimmy got as close as someone without a badge could get.
"Nope. We've been finding a lot of these guys lately like this. I'm not high enough on the chain to hear anything about the autopsies, but me and a couple other of Detroits finest think it might be a new drug or something," Earl said. "But we never hear much about it after that. It's like it's forgotten about. You know, they could pay a garbage man to do what we do these days."
"Any patterns?" Jimmy asked.
"Well from what I see, whenever we get a call, it's never anyone you'd think is messing around with drugs. Someone usually kind of clean cut. What do you know about this guy, Jimmy?"
Jimmy was silent for a moment. "He worked at the City Hall. He was an advisor to the mayor."
"Yeah, but you know how this guys shit stinks. What about that?" Earl said.
"Well, I never thought he was into any drugs or anything," Jimmy said.
"I guess you're done following him, right Jimmy?" Earl asked.
"Yeah, I guess," he said.
-39-
It was late. Oliver Russell undid his tie as he walked to the door of his home. It was a long day of discussing how to budget a city with little to no funding. The president of three companies in his town had testified in from of the senate as to how such a financial crisis would worsen if the three of them folded. The automakers were operating in a town that was hurting. And to fold would not only destroy his city, but it would destroy his state. He would be remembered as the mayor who was in office when Michigan was destroyed. Yet, there were much worse problems that were at hand that he couldn't talk about with most. He knew extortion was a crime, but how would extortion work if the one extorting you is unearthly?
He opened the door to hear the click of a gun. He navigated the shadows that lead to his living room. He knew who he'd see before he even turned on the light. He paused for a moment, took a deep breath and proceeded. He saw a man, black slick backed hair. A big man sat on his recliner with his legs crossed leaned back. He was taping the point of his gun against his belt buckle looking bored. On the couch he saw his son, Ollie J tied up with duct tape over his mouth. Tears running down his face.
"," Oliver said. "I suppose you heard about Tommy today," he said. "Tell me Oliver," he was quiet and leaned forward. "What the fuck happened?" Oliver was silent. "I repeat, Mayor Oliver J. Russle, what the fuck happened? This is the forth fucking time. My shit is on the streets and I want to know why. It's too close to home, Oliver. I thought we had trust. So I think maybe it's time for a little warning." Oliver was paralyzed. It was a nightmare he tried desperately to wake up from in his mind. But it was all too real. The man lifted the gun and pointed it at his son. The trigger was squeezed. It threw his son across the couch, and dropped him on the floor. Oliver's wife would now consider the couch ruined if she hadn't died during child birth, and his son laid dead on the floor.
"Motherfucker," he said in a stern yet monotone voice. He ran to his side. "Oh, God!" he said. He rubbed his hand along his sons face. "Please. Not this." The man walked over calmly. The smell of the smoke from the barrel still fresh in the air. He squatted down to look Oliver in the eye.
"This goes smoothly from now on, or he's finished. For good. Do you understand me?" The man put his hand on where he shot the child. Little Ollie J began to heave and looked to have what appeared to be a seizure. His eyes rolled back in to his head, he began kicking and (in what most in the religious community would consider) speaking in tongues. "He'll remember this as a fucked dream. But remember what I said."
The man got up and walked out the door. Oliver still at his son's side, never looking away from the boy "when this is over," Oliver said, "I'll kill you."
The man smiled. "Birds can fly, but we can't. If we have the faith of a bird, you think we could fly?" He headed out the door. "When this is done, I'll let you test your faith."
-9-
The two looked at the body. Tommy cleans up nice as a stiff. Alone in the examination room. One of them put on a rubber glove, opened the eye and noted the red dot to the side. It was an all too familiar pattern now. Bloody nose (estimated blood loss to be about a pint and a half,) sudden decomposition of body from with in, but the integrity of the skin undeniably kept. The smell of decomposition emanated from the orifices of the body. The first three bodies David and Alexa, the Medical examiners for UNIT D had worn masks to deter the smell. They quickly disassociated the smell from being vile to that of being evidence. They found a pattern. They knew what they had to report now. They knew that going up the chain would lead to something more.
"It's not our job to worry about the big picture. We're not paid enough," she said.
"Yeah, but this picture will put us on special detail in this town, of which I hate, and UNIT hates paying Company D overtime," he said.
"You know what I say then?" Alexa asked while examining the fingernails of the victim. "Fuck em'," she said. "That's what I say." David laughed while he held the small flashlight over the victims eye.
"You can write that in your report," David said.
"Yeah, 'after examining the last four bodies of the victims, we have concluded that the substance found is of extraterrestrial origins, and will become an epidemic most likely destroying an already dead community in the vast majority, so fuck it.' And with that I'll hand them my resignation letter.
"Back to the basement of Henry Ford Hospital we'll go," David said.
-22-
"Hey Lester," Jimmy said taking off his coat and throwing it on his desk. "Looks like my case is done," he said. Lester was looking close at a dollhouse dresser that he had been working on for hours making sure every detail was intact. It was a replica from an old photo Freman found in a photograph from 1859.
"That reminds me," he said, "Kate Heigel called. She sounded upset."
"She should. Tommy's dead," he said. Lester put down the furniture.
"Really now?" Freman said seemingly intrigued. "What happened?"
"I don't know. Drug overdose I guess. Not like any drug overdose I've ever seen," Jimmy said sitting down at his desk, putting out a pint of Jager from the top drawer of his desk.
"What are you thinking Jimmy? You think he was murdered?"
Jimmy took a sip of his drink. "I think so."
-4-
Oliver laid in bed wide awake. Hours ago he had cleaned his unconscious son and was thinking how he'd explain the blood stain on the couch in the morning. He watched the shadows move on the ceiling from the window outside. He laid in his bed alone with his hands behind his head. He had a meeting the next day with the UAW and he had to figure out what to do with his private matter.
"Dad?" Ollie broke the silence. He looked up and saw his son at the doorway. Though Oliver felt helpless, he could at least rest knowing his son was with him. But was he safe? "I had a nightmare," he said.
"What about?" Oliver asked. He sat up and looked at him. "It doesn't' matter. Come here." His son got in to his bed and laid next to him.
"My stomach hurts," his son said.
"I know, Ollie." He ran his fingers through his sons hair, "I know.
