5
Emotions are still a little frayed at the station, but a certain peace has returned. Ianto approaches the Tough-looking Cop. They again exchange non touching circular hand spins. "New inforama on John Hart?"
"None... So where is Jack Harkness?"
"He went to the bathroom... I guess he got all thawed out." Owen grins.
Jack trudges through a spooked gantlet of 2042 officers. The Tough Cop greets him, raising his hand. "Sir, I formally convey my presence."
"Hi."
Jack reaches out and shakes the Tough Cop's hand. It's like he spit on him. The Tough Cop tries not to react, but he's clearly disgusted.
"We're not used to physical contact greetings." Ianto hastens to explain.
"Oh..." Jack nods "Hey, you guys are out of toilet paper..."
"Toilet paper?"
With a suppressed giggle Ianto chokes out "They used handfuls of wadded paper, back in the 20th."
The entire station roars with laughter. Jack stands un-amused. "I'm happy you're happy but in the place where you're supposed to have toilet paper, you have a little shelf with three seashells on it."
A dispatcher is hysterical with laughter "He doesn't know how to use the three seashells!"
The station roars again. Jack shakes his head and scratches his hand. Suddenly, the elderly Lamb comes into view.
Jack's mouth falls open. "Zach Lamb, what happened to you?!"
"I got old. It happens."
"Motherfuck." Jack smiles with delight in recognition of someone at last "You were a snot nosed punk arse rookie! Look at you. You're fucking old!"
The nearest Morality Box dutifully BUZZES. "Jack Harkness, you are fined three credits for a violation..."
Three sheets of paper come off. Jack looks at it. Grins. Walks over to the machine "Shit, fuck, piss, crap, damn, bitch, bitch, damn. Fuck."
A whole sheaf of paper peels off. Jack gathers it up. It wads nicely.
"So much for the three seashells." Jack grins "I'll be right back."
.
.
Jack examines all the Techno Wonders as Ianto punches up an illustration on the screen: a small, square microchip being surgically inserted into the top of a hand. It's tied into the veins and blood supply as well.
"John Hart isn't coded." Ianto is explaining "An organically bioengineered microchip was developed that could by sewn into the skin. Sensors all around the city can zero in on anyone at any time."
The tough cop huffs "I can't even conceive a visual of what you cops did before it was developed..."
"We worked for a living." Jack snaps back "This fascist crap makes me wanna puke."
"What do you think you're scratching, caveman? You really surmise we'd let you out without control? Your code was implanted the second you thawed." The tough cop points out.
Jack seethingly contemplates his itching hand. "Why didn't you just shove a leash up my arse?!"
"Dirty meat-eater! No matter how Viking your era was, I cannot digest how you ever wore a badge!" Another roared "You're going back, Jack Jack, oh yes, you're going back."
"Could you two please dump some hormones? We need every cortex we can get in this situation." Ianto scolds.
"We don't need him. Our computer has already examined all feasible scenarios resulting from the appearance of John Hart and determined he will attempt to start up a new drug lab and form a crime syndicate." The tough cop says triumphantly.
"Thant is correct officer" the computer purrs.
"I hate to interrupt you two lovebirds, but that's fucking stupid. You think he wants to build a business? Hart is going for a gun. Plain and simple." As Jack rages, roaming around the station, Morality boxes have heart attacks keeping up with his offenses. "Hart is a complete megalomaniacal fucking psychopath. And the first thing John is going to want to do is wipe the smug smiles off your shiny faces. He could just handshake your asses to death, but who's got the goddamn patience. Trust me, he's going for a gun."
"Who cares what this primate thinks. Resonate some understanding. The only place a person can even view a gun in this city, is at a... museum!" Owen laughs.
.
.
AN ANGELES MUSEUM OF ART AND HISTORY
The museum is located in the Cocteau complex. Hart wanders through a hall arrayed with displays of various '80s/'90s/'00s/'10s artefacts. A Girl Scout Troop (in modern-modulated uniforms) looking down as we realize that large sections of the floor of the entire museum are transparent. Below is an archaeological exhibit of a section of the old city - parts of buildings and streets.
A computer is saying cheerfully "If you care to sample what it was like to spend a day in Los Angeles in the Twentieth Century please press the button."
One of the Scouts presses a large red button. HONKING CARS, SWEARING in Spanish, GUN SHOTS, SIRENS, RAP MUSIC... At the end of the hall, there's an arrow to another exhibit: HALL OF VIOLENCE. Hart grins. "Home sweet home"
.
.
Jack, Ianto, and Owen stride towards Ianto's cruiser.
"It's a hunch. Trust me on this. It's a cop thing. (as they get into the car) I'm driving." Jack gets into the driver's side. Ianto gets in the passenger. A beat. They both emerge. "You're driving."
.
.
Chief Sato sits before the vidphone. Sweating. Cocteau's scary serenity stares back at him.
"Enhance your calm, Chief. Please, share your disquietude."
"Mayor/Gov Cocteau, we find the branching possibility exists the escaped cryocon, Mr. John Hart, may be on his way to the Museum of Art and History in your complex." Sato says with genuine alarm.
"What permutation lead you to this curious conclusion? Do you expect him to be homesick?" Raymond quietly enjoys his own wit.
"No." Sato asks "No, sir. Do you not still have the armoury exhibit
downstairs?"
.
.
The exhibit begins with the crudest weapons, cavemen with clubs, stone axes, arrowheads, and moves up the ladder of history toward modern day - Western Colt revolvers, an old-time gangster Tommy gun...In the middle of the room is a Civil War cannon. A stack of cannonballs sits next to it.
"This is the future. Where are the fucking phaser guns?" John demands with confusion.
He keeps moving down the line. Past the 1940s, the 1980s, 1990s... And finally a weapon he doesn't recognize at all. Magnetic Accelerator Gun. AcMag for short.
Hart grins.
Punches the glass in the exhibit. Hard. His fist bounces off. It hurts. He looks around for something to break it with. Nothing. Side kicks a larger expanse of glass in front of another display. Almost breaks it. Not quite. Growls. A museum helper comes into the room. Moves towards the annoyed Hart smiling pleasantly. "Mellow greetings. What seems to be your boggle?"
"My boggle..." John sighs "I'm at the top of the food chain, ya know? And I would prefer to use tools, not bruise up my hands
and feet. But I can't find anything in this place. A rock, a crowbar, any heavy object. Tell me, whatta you weigh?"
The Guard looks at him in total confusion. Hart grabs him by the lapels and shot-puts him across the room into the GLASS. This time it SHATTERS impressively.
"Enough..."
A very mellow alarm goes off murmuring "PLEASE EXIT" over and over. John begins sorting through weapons available. Loads a SHOTGUN from the case. Tests it by BLOWING up another display. Works just fine. The ALARM changes to "PLEASE EXIT RAPIDLY." It begins to annoy him. He BLOWS the loudspeaker away. BLOWS up the AcMag case. Grabs the gun. There doesn't seem to be any cartridges. No way to load them either. Aims, fires. Nothing.
"Motherfuck."
There's an information booth at end of the room. Hart can't help himself. Presses the Ego Boost Button again.
"That's a great looking shirt." The computer crows.
Hart chuckles appreciatively, presses the "?" button.
"Yes, Museum Patron. Have you a query?"
"Whatsa matter with the..." John checks the name "Magnetic Accelerator gun?"
Graphics flicker madly on the screen. The computer explains "The Magnetic Accelerator gun, the last produced handheld weapon of his millenium displaced the flow of neutrons through a non-linear cycloid super-cooled electromagnetic force."
"So... what? It needs new batteries? What size? Who sells batteries in the future? Is there a battery store I can go to?"
Two guards appear in the doorway behind him. "One tries to appear tough-ish "Excuse me, Museum Patron..."
Without a second beat, Hart SHOTGUNS them both. In the background we can hear the ALARM change "RUN. RUN..."
A set of steel doors whoosh down, sealing Hart in. Hart turns back to the computer as it explains "The AcMag, now reactivated, should concurrently super-cool and achieve fission in...two point six minutes."
Looking at steel doors John comments "Yeah, well, I was considering leaving quickly and patience is not one of my virtues. (beat) Who am I kidding? I don't have any virtues."
Laughs at his own wit. Grabs a shoulder bag from a Vietnam era GI display. Starts loading up on weapons and ammo. Kid in a toy store. Examines, discards, chooses... And everything is free. He turns to the Civil War cannon. And grins...
.
.
..
MUSEUM ENTRANCE
The SAPD car is parked at the curb. Doors popped open. Museum patrons and guards flee. Jack, followed by Ianto and Owen, moves against the flow.
A cylindrical metal periscope suddenly pops up from the sidewalk. As Jack stares down at it, the periscope zips back down the hole.
"You see that?" Jack asks.
"What?" Owen turns to look.
"Never mind. I give up trying to figure this place out." Jack shrugs.
Holding out his S.A.C. Owen asks "Procedure?"
"Establish communication with maniac intruder." It tells him.
"Wrong." Jack growls then he takes the S.A.C., smashes it to the ground) "Hey. Luke Skywalker. Use the Force."
Jack heads for the door. Owen has a distraught moment before following. Owen hands Jack a stun baton. It SPARKS to life.
"What the hell's this?"
"It's a glow rod. It's what we got."
"Does it work?"
Jack casually pokes out to a nearby scared guard. The guard drops like a dead weight. "Guess so."
"They've got him trapped in section eight." Ianto said and he looked up from his fussing to find Jack looking at him intently. His eyes moving around to those in their perfect uniforms and Ianto's with… is that a watch chain?
Ianto raises an eyebrow and Jack shakes himself back to the task at hand "Trapped? The Maniac Intruder? That I doubt. Oh, would you make sure for me that nobody else is in the building?"
"Done." Ianto understands as he turns to the guards "I want a visual. Now. Every corridor in the museum. I want full sensors routed to me. And I want it ninety seconds ago..."
They start to scurry. There's a moment as Jack appreciates Ianto's skill ... and that is such a pert arse.