13
Jack moves up the corridor, purpose in his stride. His black gaze fixed on Leader, making an inquiry at the nurse's station. Jack doesn't even break stride. He seizes Leader by his collar and swings him into the trolley being pushed past. Jack takes off at a run.
Leader sees his prey through the confusion and he leaps over the nurse's station.
Jack stops at the emergency exit, checking to see his enemy is following then pushing on through the doors into the stairwell with an alarm sounding.
There is shouting and footsteps behind him, driving him deeper into the gloom.
Leader pushes through a door into flashes of light as he enters the underground garage, vehicles pulling in and out across the parking docks.
Leader looks around frantically, then sees Jack- leaping into a vehicle, jamming the throttle and lurching out, heading for the exit ramp.
Jack snarls as the vehicle flies out into the street, bouncing across the barrier with Leader in his black sleek model close behind.
Jack has one goal, draw his enemy away from Ianto. He jams the throttle down, he has to end this. Jack careens round another corner, the chassis tilting and bouncing up against the concrete and the windshield suddenly sprayed with sparks.
Jerking back on the throttle to avoid a collision Jack can see Leader dropping back. A chance to gain distance but Jack can't correct his steering in time and the vehicle careens at full speed over the intersection and through the barriers, the ground dropping away into a steep ramp.
The vehicle is flying through the air, screaming, crashing and crunching down, finally nose-diving into an empty bay with a mighty crunch.
Leader pulls up at the smashed gate arm. In the booth, a parking attendant greets the arrival with a smile "Welcome to Millennium Stadium, home of the Torchwood Admirals, parking is fifteen currency units..."
Leader gets out of the car. He looks down at the crash site below. The parking lot, like a marina, is filled to capacity. A game is in progress. A corona of light coming from the stadium. Hoots, music, the roaring crowd. Over which, sirens can now be heard. Leader draws the syringe-gun and heads down the ramp.
Dust blooms from the crash site. Leader crouches, peering down at the wrecked Vehicle. The exploded windshield, the dangling driver side door shows his prey has escaped the wreckage. He rises and scans around. On the concrete, a trail of blood is visible.
The blood trail leads down a gloomy stairwell. The game is just audible overhead. Jack stumbles down the steps, clutching his bleeding arm. Between pain and concussion, he loses his footing and falls. He tumbles down the remaining steps to the bottom. In the gloom Jack can see equipment, supplies - edgers, aerators, spray rigs, drums of insecticides, herbicides. For a moment, Jack lies stunned. Then hears a noise and rolls over. He looks up the stairwell. A shadow is descending towards him. With painful effort, Jack starts crawling across the floor, eyes fixed on the shadow. Tensing as a stunner noses out of the darkness.
Then stadium security steps into the light "You, what are you doing down here?"
Now he sees Jack more closely - injured, his arm bleeding.
"Ah, Jesus... Are you okay, son?" the man asks and Jack eases a little as he sees the security guard lower his weapon. Then suddenly the guard is blown aside and the guard jettisons the handgun, clutching his throat like it's on fire. With a boiling gurgle, he staggers forward. Streaming with sweat. Toppling across a drum. Convulsing, belching steam. Then suddenly his body falls slack. Leader is at the foot of the steps, discarding the spent ampule from the syringe-gun. Now screwing a fresh ampule into place. Jack turns to him, realizing what he's just witnessed is a glimpse of his own fate.
He pushes himself upright, bracing. Leader looks at him. Clutching his bloody arm, barely able to stay upright, but still ready to fight for life.
Jack half-smiles. A mask of anger as he moves in on his quarry, Leader has the syringe-gun poised.
Jack collapses to his knees, hanging his head as if in surrender... then suddenly his hand flies up as he fires the gun recovered from the ground.
Jack fires again - clipping his enemy, Leader roars with a charred wound in his shoulder, still advancing like a bloody terminator.
The drum finally catches and explodes, flinging both men against opposing walls as the dead guard dissolves in the flames.
A cacophony of sirens can be heard outside. A thick grey smoke gulches up from the stairwell. Shadows are visible. The sound of extinguishers. A fireman climbs up, emerging from the smoke, he pulls off his breathing mask to address a waiting PD officer "Nothing... If there was anyone down there, they're a pile of ashes now."
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Peace. Sunlight. A bell tolling in the background. We make out Rhiannon, dressed in black, standing at a grave. The headstone reads simply: "Here Lies Ianto & His Unborn Son - May They Rest in Peace".
Out in the distance, the institute liner emerging from the shimmer. The crosshatch insignia.
THE TORCHWOOD INSTITUTE
Through the polarized glass we see the liner has docked. A group is disembarking. Another parade of plutocracy, aging bloated men and brittle young women. They filter inside to be greeted by the courtesy staff, led by the ever-perky Lydia.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Lydia and on behalf of our staff, I'd like to welcome you to The Torchwood Institute. Before we start the tour, we'll be serving refreshments in the visitor centre and circulating our standard discretion agreements. I should add that today you are all very lucky because our CEO and founder, Dr. Henry Tazanaki, is with us and will be leading the tour personally."
The tour group pick and mingle at a buffet. We isolate a casually dressed man, lightly bearded, in a Phoenix Admirals cap, crossing to Lydia. She turns to greet him with a smile "Yes... Mr. Thomas, isn't it?"
The man tilts up to reveal his face. We see he is Jack
"I can't find my sunglasses. I think I left them on the shuttle." Jack informs her with a winning smile.
"Well we're about to start the tour." Lydia says, "But I can have someone check for you."
"Don't worry. I'll catch up." Jack purrs, touching her arm with a wink and she giggles, then ushers people towards the start of the tour.
Jack moves quickly along the wall towards the back of the complex. Hugging the shadows, scanning for onlookers. There is the processing plant and there, the ring of funnels. The sight brings a sudden rush of memories, painful memories, and horrors.
Jack steels himself, then breaks from shadow and races for the nearest funnel. He makes a running lap. His fingers grab the lip of the funnel and he pulls himself up. Reaching the lip, he finds the funnel mouth has been gridded over. Then he hears "Sir, this is a restricted area"
Jack lowers back to the ground. He finds himself facing a technician hardhat. His uniform reads "Air Processing". Jack grins the shit eating grin again as he steps forward.
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The doors slide open and the technician enters, stiffly. Then suddenly topples forward, pistol whipped from behind. Jack enters the elevator, a familiar handgun clenched in his fist.
Looking up an elevator shaft. The red pulse of the lode-poles, rippling downward as the elevator descends from the surface. Jack is now wearing the technician's uniform. He watches the panel lights flashing down.
"Level 3: Harvest"
"Level 5: Labor Decon",
"Level 7: Labor Quarters".
His pupils are dilating but his face is set with determination. He knows what he must do. His gaze drifts down to "Level Twenty: Agnate Containment".
The holographic rendering of containment spins in the vaulted chamber like a giant geometrical phantom. The hub blinks with blue dots in their hundreds as the inmates go about their day.
Overlooking the hub, Hubcom sits at his console. The hiss of an opening door as someone enters. Hubcon looks round. He greets the technician's arrival with an inquisitive look. Then the technician takes off his hardhat. Hubcon reacts almost instantly, reaching for the console. Then instantly freezes as Jack presses the handgun to his skull.
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Pale blue light. Hubcon leads the way down a silent corridor. Jack follows him, the handgun firmly levelled on his head.
The pale blue light sustains. The chamber is reminiscent of the foundation chambers. The walls lined with tanks. But instead of amber fluid, these contain blocks of ice. Beside each tank is a grid of bio-monitors. Hubcon stumbles into frame, prodded by Jack. Then, with a trembling finger points to one of the tanks.
Jack holds aim on him and considers the glass facet. He wipes the condensation off the glass. Suspended in the block of ice is a shadow. A human figure. A device is attached to his stomach. Jack looks at the bio-monitors.
Jack looks across the EKG, the cardiograph, indications that Carrington is still alive. Then he fixes on the RFI monitor. A resonant image of the brain. The shifting aura showing a level of consciousness. What thoughts must be going through that mind? The fate of the agnates spared from expiration. To be kept on ice for future harvest.
Dr. Tazanaki stands at the wall of display tanks, mid-way through his sales pitch. He delivers it now with noticeably less gusto "Case in point, the clone. Back in the beginning, the mapping of the human genome was declared a historic landmark- to break the curse of heredity, to correct congenital defect... genetic engineering became the brave new world of medical science. A bright future that led to a dark age and much of the legislation we know today. But while the clone laws may have narrowed the field, science marches on. Only to... I'm sorry, I'm f" Suddenly he clutches his arm, emitting a guttural gasp.
"Dr. Tazanaki?" Lydia asks as she watches with horror.
Tazanaki just looks at her. Then jolts from a spasm, clawing at his chest. His knees buckling, he topples against a display case. Pawing at the glass, he slides dreadfully to the ground.
"He's having a heart attack! A doctor! Somebody get a doctor in here!" Lyda screams as the tour group keeps their distance, unsettled by the face of mortality.
Tazanaki is now lying in contortion on the floor, his gaping eyes fixed on the display tank. The embryo in mutated effigy, rocking about in the amber fluid. The sight of this little human monster is one that will follow him to the grave.
Alarms sounding. The hub grid blinking with red dots. Hubcon sitting frozen at the console, the handgun pressed to his head. Jack stands over him. His face cast in a chill of vengeance.
"What do you want to say?" Hubcom asks, "Just look at the camera."
"Every Vidcom within the hub?" Jack demands, "All Clones will see it?"
A glass facade. A noise from within. A primal, guttural noise, building to a roar. Now warping as the glass webbing, bursts open from within, the facade exploding in a parody of fireworks as several clones step out and look out with anger.
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No clue of where we may be. A safe house somewhere. The passage of time is marked on Jack's face, careworn, long hair, and a full beard. He sits in front of a data tablet, his image recorded on its screen. His voice also seems older as he speaks
"It's been a year since the breakout. A year in hiding, waiting for things to quiet down. I don't know how many made it out or how many who did, survived. I know there are people called politicians trying to say it never happened. That's why I've kept this journal. To keep the truth alive. Alive... I've learned what that means but it still confuses me. In functional terms, I've been alive for ten years. In human terms, more than thirty. Human... I'm not sure about that one either. They say I'm not human because I have no mother or father. I guess I have more to learn. But one word I do understand is hope. So maybe this journal will give hope - to those like me, who may be out there. To know they're not alone. My name is Jack Six-Echo and this is my testament... "He sits back, contemplating the screen with an air of closure.
Then he stirs at a sound. At first just a gurgle. Then a moan. Becoming the sound of a baby complaining. Jack crosses to a cot. He lifts up a baby boy, 6 months old, bawling and squirming.
A soft voice with a lit, "Is he hungry again? I just fed him."
Ianto steps into the room, sleep-mussed, his beauty deepened by maternity. The baby reaches out for him. Jack hands him over
"Jack Junior, huh? It still doesn't sound right. That name." Jack smiles as they begin their game.
"It's the name of his father." Ianto murmurs as he lovingly kisses him. Jack smiles at him, then the baby, sweeping the hair from the forehead.
A kiss is applied to his son.
Ianto makes a small sound and Jack pulls him into his arms, the kiss for him is passionate and full of hope.
As are they.
End