A/N: I'm back! Yay! So, this is going to be a one off of Idiot's Lantern. I was going to skip it, because it's so perfect by itself that there's not really much I am able to change, but then I felt bad, because it issuch a perfect episode and I love it, so I tried. Plus it'll give you something to read while I work on the Impossible Planet/Satan's Pit double trouble. In other news, I successfully wrote 50K+ words of my Nanowrimo original piece. Yippee! The thing is nowhere near done but I can take my time on it and get back into Howling. So welcome back all, I missed writing this.
Interlude: The Idiot's Lantern
John carefully slicked his hair back. "Is there a particular reason I'm doing this?" he called.
The Wolf stuck her head in his bedroom doorway. "It's the fifties, Johnny. You've got to look the part," she admonished.
"Shouldn't you be in a poodle skirt then?" John teased. "Isn't that what all the girls are wearing these days?"
She sniffed in disgust. "Poodle skirts," she muttered. "Dreadful inventions. That should be a method of torture somewhere, putting women in those things."
John laughed at the look on her face. "Fine, fine," he conceded. "No poodle skirts for you. But couldn't you at least try? Why am I always the one that has to fit in? You never look any different and no one bothers you."
"What is wrong with my outfit?" the Wolf asked indignantly.
John shot her a look. "You look like you walked out of the twenty-first century, Wolf, which, need I remind you, hasn't happened yet."
The Wolf huffed. "Fine. I will put on a different pair of jeans that fit the era, but that is the one concession I'll make. This jacket is a classic. Fits any time period," she said proudly.
John just rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Wolf."
John stared as the Wolf drove out on a moped type motorbike. "There is no way I'm getting on that thing," he told her when she braked.
The Wolf pouted. "Why not?"
"Because it is a death trap waiting to happen, and I don't know about you, but I am breakable and don't want to go to a fifties hospital. They'd probably attack me with leeches or something," he shuddered.
"John, they stopped using leeches for medicinal use in the early 1900's," the Wolf informed him. "But if anybody comes at you with a bucket of parasites, I promise I won't let them touch you."
"Don't care," John said stubbornly. "I'm not getting on that thing. Do you even have your driver's license?"
"I can drive the TARDIS," the Wolf reminded him, looking at him like he was a drooling idiot. John hated that look. "I think I can handle a motorbike."
"You told me you didn't pass the flying test," John told her.
"John, get on the bike!" the Wolf yelled, biting back a grin. "Stop acting like a kitten."
John scowled and stomped over to the bike and got on behind her, slapping on the helmet she handed him. "I hate cats," he muttered. "And if we crash and die, I'm coming back to haunt your next regeneration."
"Duly noted." The Wolf revved the bike and took off down the street.
They were silent for a while, John sulking and the Wolf concentrating on not running into anything. "This isn't New York, by the way," he pointed out snarkily after about ten minutes. "Pretty sure we just landed in London again."
The Wolf hit the brakes to look around, eying all the Union Flags strung between the houses. "This could still be New York," she tried. "I mean, it looks very New York to me. Sort of a Londony New York, mind." She sighed. "Why do I even try to go anywhere else?" she wondered aloud.
"What are all the flags for?" John asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
The Wolf screeched to a halt when she saw the dead end. "That's odd," she muttered. "I could have sworn they came down here. Where did they go?" John didn't answer, still holding on tight. "John? You okay?" she asked, concerned.
"Surprised they didn't turn back and arrest you for reckless driving," he grumbled into her shoulder. "I don't like vehicles, especially small ones. They're accidents waiting to happen. You didn't pass the test, did you?"
"You going to be alright, Johnny?" the Wolf asked again, actually worried now. "You should have told me earlier that you were afraid."
"Didn't want to seem like a fraidy-cat," he replied quietly. "It's my own problem. But anyway," he changed the subject, finally looking up from her back. "You were saying?"
The Wolf let the topic move on, understanding his need. "Men in black? Vanishing police cars? This is Churchill's England, not Stalin's Russia."
"Monsters, that boy said," John remembered. "Maybe we could go and ask the neigbors?"
"That's what I like about you, Johnny," the Wolf said with a grin. "The domestic approach."
"Thanks. I think." He clung to her tightly as she zoomed off again, back to Tommy's house.
The Wolf and John followed Tommy up the stairs to his Gran's room. John blanched when Tommy opened the door. "Her face is gone," he whispered.
The Wolf pulled out her sonic screwdriver and quickly scanned the old woman's head. "Scarcely an electrical impulse left. Almost complete neural shutdown. She's ticking over. It's like her brain has been wiped clean," she murmured thoughtfully.
"What are we going to do, Miss?" Tommy asked fearfully. "We can't even feed her."
John turned at the sound of the front door breaking. "Wolf, we're about to have company," he warned.
"It's them. They've come for her," Rita said, frantic.
"Quickly," the Wolf demanded. "What was she doing before this happened? Where was she? Tell me. Quickly, think!"
"I – I can't think!" Tommy stuttered. "She doesn't leave the house. She was just –"
Men in black burst into the room, shoving Rita aside. The Wolf placed herself between them and the old woman. "Hold on a minute," she ordered. "Now you listen to me!"
One tall man went to push her out of the way but John leapt forward and punched him in the jaw, sending him a few steps back. "Don't touch her," he snarled.
"John, look out!" the Wolf yelled.
Before John could turn fully, a fist landed on his cheek, hurling him to the ground. Blackness swept over him, but he pushed unconsciousness back. "John!" the Wolf was saying, kneeling next to him. "John, come on, look at me."
"I'm fine," he murmured. "Go get 'em. I'll catch up."
"Okay. Stay here," she ordered. "I'll come back and get you."
"Aye aye, Captain," he grinned faintly.
"Tommy, look after him!" the Wolf called as she got on her bike to follow.
"Yes, ma'am," Tommy answered, running back upstairs just as John was wobbling to his feet. "You alright?" he asked.
John rubbed his cheek, wincing. "Oh, yeah," he replied with false bravado. "Just dandy." He worked his mouth open, cracking his jaw. "Ow," he muttered. "That guy packed a punch. Come on. Nothing left up here."
Tommy trailed after John as he went downstairs. He meant to go outside and follow the Wolf, but stopped at the living room door when he saw red energy coming from the television set. "Odd," he said to himself.
"What is?" Tommy asked.
"Never mind," John told him. "You should go make sure your mother is alright. I can take care of myself."
"You sure?" Tommy wasn't convinced. "That man hit you pretty good."
"Oh, sure. Nothing I haven't had before. I just want to take a look at something, then I'll be gone." Tommy left. John turned back to the television, but the energy had vanished. He cautiously approached it, looking for any signs of danger, but it remained inanimate. He carefully turned the set around and saw the last of the energy disappearing into the aerial connection. "Magpie's Electricals," he whispered, reading the label of the manufacturer. "That was the guy delivering all the new televisions on the street for cheap." His suspicion grew.
John's last thought before the strange alien woman in the television latched onto him was – The Wolf is going to kill me. He thought he heard a frantic chiming in his head, but that could have just been the alien sucking out his brain for all he knew. Then everything went blank.
The Wolf thought she felt a mind go out, indicating that whatever was happening had claimed another victim, but she ignored it. She would go investigate after she had dealt with the idiotic police force and picked up John. Said police were currently escorting her into a derelict building with broken windows next to the cage where they were keeping all the people without faces. The man who had found her walked grimly beside her, keeping a firm hold of her elbow. Like the Wolf was going anywhere before she got to the bottom of the mystery.
Once they were inside, he let her go. "Start from the beginning. Tell me everything you know," he ordered, looking tired but determined.
"Well, for starters, I know you can't wrap your hand around your elbow and make your fingers meet," the Wolf retorted, feeling obstinate and not happy about being dragged around.
"Don't get clever with me," the man warned. "You were there today at Florizel Street, and now breaking into this establishment. Now you're connected with this. Make no mistake."
The Wolf shrugged. "Well, the thing is, Detective Inspector Bishop –"
"How do you know my name?" Bishop interjected.
"It's written inside your collar. Bless your mum," she said fondly. "But I can't help thinking, Detective Inspector, you're not exactly doing much detective inspecting, are you?"
"I'm doing everything in my power," Bishop defended.
"All you're doing is grabbing those faceless people and hiding them as fast as you can. Don't tell me – orders from above, hmm?" she asked. "Coronation Day. The eyes of the world are on London Town so any sort of problems just get swept out of sight."
"The nation has an image to maintain," he said stiffly.
"But doesn't it drive you mad, doing nothing?" she asked. "Don't you want to get out there and investigate?"
"Of course I do!" Bishop burst out. "But with all the crowds expected, we haven't got the man power. Even if we did, this is beyond anything we've ever seen. I just don't know anymore." His shoulders slumped, defeated. "Twenty years on the force, I don't even know where to start. We haven't the faintest clue what's going on."
The Wolf softened. "That could change," she said encouragingly.
"How?" he asked.
"Start from the beginning. Tell me everything you know."
"We started finding them about a month ago. Persons left sans visage. Heads just blank," Bishop recited wearily.
"Is there any sort of pattern?"
Bishop nodded. "Yes, spreading out from North London. All over the city. Men, women, kids, grannies. The only real lead is there's been quite a large number in –"
"Florizel Street," the Wolf murmured.
"Found another one, sir," a man said from behind the Wolf.
"Oh, er, good man, Crabtree. Here we are then, Wolf. Take a good look. See what you can deduce."
The Wolf turned, her stomach dropping to her feet as she caught sight of pinstriped clad legs that disappeared under a wool blanket. Her worst fears were confirmed when Crabtree lifted the blanket off, revealing John's blank face. "John," she whispered.
"You know him?" Bishop asked, surprised.
"Know him?" the Wolf repeated, agonized. "He –" She couldn't finish her sentence. Crabtree started reporting to Bishop about the circumstances of John being found, but the Wolf couldn't hear him over the roar in her ears. What did you do? What did you get yourself into? She reached up to touch his face, but jerked back, not wanting to feel it when he couldn't. Something Crabtree said caught up with her. "They did what?" she asked, voice tight.
"I'm sorry?" Bishop said.
"They left him where?" They better not have said what she thought they just said.
"Just – in the street," Bishop replied hesitantly.
Fury whirled through her. Uncontrollable fury. "In the street. They left him in the street. They took his face and just chucked him out and left him in the street," she murmured, voice shaking with anger. "And as a result, that makes things simple. Very, very simple. Do you know why?"
"No?"
The Wolf spun to glare at him, ire spilling out of her in almost visible waves. "Because now, Detective Inspector Bishop," she spat, nearly yelling, "there is no power on this Earth that can stop me. Come on!" She ran out of the building. If she had to look at John like that for one more moment, she would lose it, and she wouldn't be responsible for her actions.
Tommy knew more than he was saying. It was time to pay him another visit.
The Wolf ran back to the dead end street as soon as the Wire was safely encased on its videotape, Tommy on her heels. The road was filled with people laughing and hugging, obviously just having had their faces returned to them. Tommy laughed and took off down the street, engulfing an old woman in a hug. His Gran smiled and hugged him back, holding him tightly.
The Wolf looked around frantically for John, hoping and praying that he was okay. Finally, she caught a glimpse of spiked hair above the other heads, and sprinted toward it. "John!" she called.
John spun around, grinning when he saw the Wolf. She threw herself at him, making him laugh in delight. He caught the Wolf and swung her up into the air. "What were you thinking?" she whispered into his chest. "Going there by yourself."
"Just trying to figure it out, like you would," John told her. He set her back down on the ground.
She immediately pummeled him in the chest. "Stupid. Stupid!" she reprimanded, hitting him again.
"Ow! Stop it!" he complained, rubbing the sore spot. "Sorry, sorry, stop hitting me!"
The Wolf hugged him again. "Don't you ever do that without me again," she muttered, not really angry.
John hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. "Promise," he said quietly.