Chapter 1

The tall building cast a dark shadow over the street, and the young Welshman standing outside shivered. It wasn't a particularly cold day; in fact, the sun had been shining when he awoke. He'd put on a shirt and trousers, and, out of habit, a jacket too. After all, it was his work attire. He hadn't needed it when he left his workplace that afternoon. Now he was glad for the extra layer. Nervously, he pushed open the glass door.

A skinny man who looked in his mid-forties welcomed his guest with an outstretched hand. Dressed in jeans and a shirt, he was far more casually dressed than his visitor.

"Reverend Sam Hopper," he smiled. "Glad you could make it, Mr Jones."

"Thanks for seeing me such short notice," the other man replied, taking a seat in the chair which had been pulled out for him. "You can call me Ianto."

"Ianto," Hopper repeated, rolling the name on his tongue. "Lovely Welsh name, that. A pretty name for a pretty man." He beamed at Ianto, showing two rows of gleaming white teeth. He adjusted his dog-collar before settling back into his chair. "Now then, where shall we start?"

xxx

"Right," Captain Jack Harkness addressed the two people who stood before him in Torchwood's firing range, "who can tell me rule number one when handling guns at Torchwood?"

"Don't leave the safety catch off accidentally?" Dante Devyn, teenage hacker and all-round computer obsessive, volunteered.

"Wrong," Jack frowned.

"Only do what you're supposed to do?" Doctor Caitlyn Burns suggested.

Again, Jack shook his head. "Come on," he sighed. "Anyone? Janet?" He looked across to the back of the long room.

"Janet?" Dante repeated, turning round to see nobody there. He frowned at his colleague.

"The Weevil," Caitlyn whispered. "Remember? Alien down in the cells wearing pyjamas."

"Oh," Dante blushed. "Er, don't give your gun to Janet?"

"That's rule three," Jack laughed. "Rule number one is, don't shoot your boss. Rule two is, don't shoot your colleagues, and rule three..." He trailed off, prompting Dante to repeat his answer.

"Why would anyone give their gun to Janet?" Caitlyn asked. "It's a bit of an odd rule, if you ask me."

"Try telling that to Owen," Jack replied with a nostalgic smile. "He thought training Janet to shoot a gun would help us in some way. It only made him more work, trying to remove a bullet from Janet's foot."

Dante sniggered. "He sounds a bit daft, to be honest."

"Owen was anything but daft," Jack snapped back. "He had his moments, but he was good at what he did. He was dedicated. He was loyal, and yes, he did go a bit far with his remarks at times, but he was Owen. We just accepted that. One thing he definitely was not, though, was daft."

"Alright," Dante retracted a little. "Sorry I said that. Now when are we going to be able to shoot these babies?"

"That's not the right attitude to have, kid," Jack rolled his eyes. "If I hear any more of that talk, I might change my mind about letting you have one. Guns aren't glamorous, they're lethal weapons. Don't you forget that. I don't care what you've been brought up to think, but here at Torchwood, we play by my rules."

"Sorry, Jack," Dante whispered. He inspected the pistol in his hand, stroking its intricate design. He'd never dreamt he'd be able to shoot one of these things; if he was honest, he'd never really wanted to. But joining Torchwood had given him a whole different perspective on life, and he knew that he currently held something that would potentially make the difference between being eaten by an alien and going home to his family.

"Right, earmuffs and glasses on," Jack commanded in his distinct American drawl.

Caitlyn and Dante immediately obeyed, not caring how silly they looked in yellow goggles and oversized blue earmuffs. Jack, also dressed in identical protective gear, pulled out his trusty Webley and stood between the two new operatives, adopting a shooting stance. They copied his position, each gripping a Torchwood-branded pistol tightly. Jack shook his head and stood behind Caitlyn, adjusting her arms so they were in the correct position.

"You're holding it too tightly," Jack explained. "Your body's too tense; you need to loosen up. You too, Dante," he added, looking over his shoulder at the youngster who was pointing his gun at cardboard Weevils and making quiet, but audible, shooting noises. "Behave. You're not in the playground now, kid. One hand on the gun."

Dante rolled his eyes. He hated being the youngest in the team; it gave Jack the impression he was incapable, and Dante knew he was anything but. He held his gun in one hand, sideways on like Jack had demonstrated, and pointed it at the floor. Moving his arm up slowly, he took deep breaths, regulating it like Jack had told him. He brought the weapon level with his neck, flicked off the safety catch and pulled the trigger.

"Nice shot, kid," Jack smiled, still holding Caitlyn's waist. "You're a natural. You ever shot one of these before?"

Dante shook his head. "Only the ones on the video games at the arcade," he told Jack.

"Right, keep going with that clip. Don't reload until I tell you."

Dante nodded, regaining his posture and beaming at a rare compliment from his boss.

"How come he can do it right without any help?" Caitlyn asked, leaning her head back so it was resting on Jack's shoulder.

"Some people just can," Jack replied. "Now, remember what I told you before I gave you the gun: it's all in the breathing. In and out. That's it, Caitlyn. Now draw your arm up slowly, keep it straight. Focus on the target and release."

Caitlyn shot, but the bullet skimmed the head of a cut-out Weevil and she cursed. "I'll never do this!"

"Yes, you will," Jack smiled, steadying the weapon with his hand.

Another of Dante's shots pierced straight through a target, and he jumped up and down. "Hah!" he shrieked. "Take that, Mr Weevil!"

"Dante," Jack warned. "Calm and composed."

"Fine," Dante agreed with a sigh. He stopped to watch as Caitlyn raised her gun once more, and released a perfect shot, making a hole in the eye of the nearest fake Weevil.

"You've got it," Jack smiled. "Dante, load up one of the bigger guns. I want you both comfortable with all of these by the time you go home."

"All of them?" Caitlyn gulped. There were at least a dozen different guns on the table, not to mention any Jack had hidden underneath.

"All of them," Jack repeated. "So you'd better get shooting."