Jackie was so caught up in greeting guests, she hardly said a word when he showed up later than he'd said. She'd cut him a sharp glance, but one look at the dark frown on his face, and she gave up, turning her attention to some American dilettante she was friends with, gushing over her new hair and diamond ring as large as a goose egg gracing her left hand. Pete stood beside her, slipping easily into his "trust me" role, all smiles and slapping of shoulders, welcoming some pop star whose music he never listened to and a French artist who apparently loved to cover himself in paint and throw himself at his canvases.
The house filled quickly. Celebrity A-listers were soon followed by major politicians. Several heads of state were in attendance, not to mention President Cain, and those that couldn't make had sent proxies. He saw the American ambassador had arrived with her partner, and both were chatting up the Foreign Secretary in what Pete surmised was a heated discussion of foreign affairs. Pete left his station near the door, moving to mingle in the growing circles of attendees, shaking hands and laughing at horrible jokes, and making sure that glasses were filled and everyone was having a good time. Must keep up appearances.
In the back of his mind, however, he was strung as tense as a wire.
He'd had no time to give a report to Yvonne, and hoped Miles had been thoughtful enough to do it. He'd not even heard from his PA, hoping he could slip away at some point and ensure that the Preachers had received the information. Ideally, he'd prefer their arrival sooner rather than later. He had no idea how fast Lumic was moving, and for all he knew he could have moved his entire operation out of London, and there would be no hope for Torchwood to catch him.
The music played, appetizers moved around on the hands of staff members in dark clothes. He glanced around the room looking for President Cain, settling instead on one of the wait staff standing by the doorway. He knew if Jackie noticed, there would be hell to pay, but Pete tended to let the staff off lightly on special occasions like this. Most of them were kids getting paid low wages, asked to stand long hours serving food they never ate, and he remembered all too well jobs like that from his own days. Still, something about this girl caught his attention. He followed the line of her gaze to the corner, where the President stood, laughing and chatting with Jackie. He watched the pair of them for a long moment, letting it sink in. There was the woman he loved, chatting it up with the President of the British Republic, one of the most powerful men in the world. Who would have thought it?
"I remember her twenty first," he murmured to the girl beside him. "Pint of cider at the George."
The girl, who had been staring at Jackie so intently she must have been a fan, blinked and blushed, clearly embarrassed at having been caught out. She held up her tray filled with flutes. "Sorry! Champagne?"
Pete considered the bubbling wine. He needed to be sharp for when the Preachers arrived, but what the hell. "Oh, might as well, I'm paying for it."
The girl grinned conspiratorially, and he found himself wanting to grin back. "It's a big night for you."
Pete wanted to laugh. This random staff member hardly knew the sort of night he had planned. He nodded instead towards Jackie. "For her." He sighed, watching his wife. "Still, she's happy." Events like this, Jackie was in her element.
"She should be, it's a great party." the girl replied. Pete wondered what it must be like for her, seeing all of this, a glittering world that was so far out of her reach. He remembered when Jackie had been like that once, a long time ago.
"Do you think," he asked, watching her curiously.
The girl nodded knowingly, large brown eyes wide as as they flickered to Jackie again, her smile returning. "You can trust me."
She said it as if she knew Jackie. And perhaps, with her bleached hair and overdone make up, in a way she did. At least the Jackie he used to know. He found himself laughing at her choice of words, almost the same he used in all of his taglines.
"You can trust me on this," he corrected, meeting her grin with one of his own, teasing.
"That's it, sorry," she laughed, relaxing now that she knew he wasn't going to yell at her for skivving off her work. "So how long have you two been married?"
Pete was surprised she didn't know that, seeing as it was in Jackie's official biography. "Twenty years."
"And no kids, or…"
He should bristle at this perfect stranger getting so personal with him. But instead he found himself almost relieved that he didn't have to keep up appearances with her. He shook his head tightly, thinking of all those conversations over the years. "We kept putting it off. She said she didn't want to spoil her figure."
Something flickered in the girl's warm brown eyes, dismay, perhaps sadness. "It's not too late. She's only forty."
"Thirty-nine," he corrected absently, earning a small chuckle out of her.
"Oh, right, thirty-nine." She gave him another of those knowing looks, as if she was in on the joke. Maybe she'd been about with the other staff earlier when Jackie had pitched the fit regarding the banner. She was funny, this girl. Like Jackie when she was young, but with that streetwise humor that Jackie never got about Pete.. He wondered if she was from the old neighborhood, one of the kids of someone he knew in the day. Could it have been that long? Was he old enough that now the kids of his old mates were now grown up? He supposed he was. Had he and Jacks had kids first off, he surmised that they would be about this girl's age now. That thought ached as he considered it. So much time wasted.
"It's still too late," he sighed around the painful lump in his throat. "I moved out last month, but we're going to keep it quiet. You know, it's bad for business."
It only occurred to him after the fact who he was talking to. Jackie would have his scalp for it, if she knew, fearful of gossip in the tabs. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to care. "Why am I telling you all this? We haven't met before, have we?"
The girl's cinnamon colored eyes widened in shock as she nervously shook her head.
"I don't know, you just seem sort of …"
He trailed off as curiosity and something else stared back up at him from the girl. "What?"
"I don't know. Just sort of right." he murmured vaguely. This was ridiculous, being this open, when he had other things to think about. Out of the corner of his eye he caught one of the Torchwood board members and waved him down. "Steve, how's things? How's Torchwood?"
Steven Cavanaugh stuttered in his pursuit of a leggy brunette in a dress cut so low, he could practically see her belly button. He grinned at Pete who wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Peter, grand, grand! And you?"
"Oh, busy, the usual." Pete glanced back to the blonde girl, but she had slipped away, back to her work. "Say, you haven't spoken to John Lumic of late, have you?"
"Lumic? He's still alive?" Steven guffawed. A balding, small, thin man, his whole body shook with the force of it. "He hides in that zeppelin of his and never bothers with us mere mortals anymore."
"Really? Not even pestering Torchwood to join his consortium again?" Lumic had tried several times, but as Torchwood was publically funded, he could never get his hands on it.
"Not of late. Seems to be rather done with us." Steven didn't seem bothered, reaching for a passing tray to grab a salmon pinwheel. "I say, though, he did work over Yvonne' Hartman's predecessor something fierce. I'm glad she's taken a hand with him. He was being let free with a few too many privileges."
"Right," Pete grimaced. Even Torchwood's board didn't know the half of it. Yvonne had kept it well under wraps. "Well, he's got some great things planned."
"I'd be interested in seeing what he's got." The other man popped the appetizer in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as a leggy, dark-skinned woman with a magnificent decolletage wandered by, her slinky, white silk dress drawing Steven's eye like a magnet. "I say, Tyler, if you would excuse me."
Pete watched the lech wander off with a hint of helplessness. Even Torchwood's governing body was clueless as to what was going on here. And he could in no way reveal it, not without hinting at what he was about. He needed to call Miles. He made to find somewhere private, but no sooner turned then he found the President standing at his elbow, an eyebrow arched pointedly in the direction of Steven Cavanaugh's passing.
"I know what you are about, Tyler, and it isn't going to work."
Pete wanted to slam up his natural defenses, let the charm take it's course, but he just couldn't. "Mr. President, you have no idea what I'm about."
"Really?" The other man hardly looked convinced. "How many heads of state do you have here? Half of Torchwood's governing body, and you can't expect me to believe that they aren't here so you can do Lumic's dirty work and convince someone into his mad scheme?"
"You will find no one more agreeable that this is all madness than I, Mr. President, and I assure you that this isn't about furthering Lumic's plan."
"You know I won't support him, even if he goes abroad."
"Sir, that's fine, but that's not really what this is about." Peter felt desperate. Over the President's shoulder he could see Jackie wandering outside into the fresh air.
"I know your wife likes bragging about me at your parties, but even this feels contrived."
Pete could have screamed at him that he was wrong, that he was a spy trying to stop Lumic. But he knew he didn't. "Sir, what if I were to tell you I suspect that not only was Lumic planning on ignoring you, but he had already been running experiments?"
That clearly wasn't what the President expected to hear. "You seriously think he's gone that far? He only just showed me the proposal."
"I think he's gone that far and then some," Pete insisted. "I think he's been using people no one would notice, homeless, druggies, prostitutes, and has been running tests on them."
For all that John Cain was normally a fair minded man, he looked at Peter as if he were mad. "I may find his work unethical, Mr. Tyler, but I don't know if John Lumic would go that far."
"I do," he replied quickly. "I have proof and can get it. What would your government do if I did?"
The President blinked at him, stunned. "Are you serious?"
"As a heartbeat, as serious that Vitex is nothing more than sugar and water and some vitamins thrown in with some color."
Cain nodded slowly. "We have due process, Peter. It would be your word against his, and he's got a bevy of lawyers to protect it all."
"Could you get the military, police, something over to stop him?"
"Let's not get hasty…"
"Could you, if I got you proof, tonight."
"Possibly. But what's this all about?"
"I'll tell you more when I get it," Pete replied grimly. "Just...trust me on this."
The President studied him for a long moment. "I'll do nothing and say nothing until that moment. You know I can't."
"Just give me a few hours...through tonight. I'll get it for you."
"I'll wait," Cain murmured, as someone from the opposition government wandered over, glass in hand, greeting them both. Pete smiled perfunctorily, and with a measured look at the president, made his way out of the situation, looking for a private corner as he did so.
The first number he dialed was Miles.
"They have the information. They should be on their way."
Pete's jaw tightened. He would need to convince them quickly. He had no time to waste. "Patch me through to Yvonne, now."
"Right," Miles replied. He heard the click and whir in his ear as the other line was connected and Yvonne's voice answered.
"How is the party, Peter? Jackie having a good time?"
"Lumic's making these robot men, Yvonne," Pete cut in without preamble. "He tried to sell the President on the idea, but he wouldn't give in. I think Lumic's been experimenting in secret this whole time and maybe already has some."
All flirtation was gone out of the other woman's tone. "You are sure of this?"
"Not completely. I pieced it together out of Lumic's presentation and some video the Preachers sent. He's been gathering the homeless, using them, I'm sure of it. I'm going to try and get more evidence tonight."
"How?"
"I'm going to get kidnapped." He couldn't help the hint of cheek at the audacity of this crazed plan. "Let the Preachers take me and then help them get the evidence we need."
"Peter, you can't do that." Yvonne's irritation now rose to an order. "That's not what you are there for, it would jeopardize your position and put you in danger. And we have operatives that can do it just as easy."
"But none who know Lumic's work as well as I do. You know it, Yvonne."
She did. And she clearly wasn't any happier for it. "This is ridiculous. What makes you believe they will even go along with this?"
"I don't know that they will, but whatever information we get, Miles is under orders to get it to you. Make sure the President sees it, make sure he gets it, to stop this."
"And let him know that Torchwood helped something like this happen?"
"Would you rather have that or an army of robots with people's brains on your doorstep?" Pete snarled, glancing in the distance at the President in the corner with his party. Jackie had returned, marching through the French doors, clearly annoyed at something. No sooner than she crossed the threshold than the entire back lawn lit up in a blaze of white light.
This had to be the Preachers.
"I've got to go, I think my ride is here." Pete clicked off to the sound of Yvonne's loud protestations. How did one prepare themselves for a kidnapping? And how did he get somewhere where Jackie wouldn't be hurt?
No sooner than he had that thought than the sound of breaking glass caused the guests to scream.
Only it wasn't a group of men in black clothing in masks that appeared. Instead, silvery, boxy bodies shuffled in, with heavy footsteps under giant, robot heads. The bottom of Pete's stomach fell out from under him. Too late...already, it was too late.
People screamed as glass crunched into the parquetry, and one of the horrific creatures made it's way towards where the President and Jackie stood. Heart in throat, he tried to make his way towards them, even as John Cain's phone began to ring. He watched as the president answered and had a feeling judging by the horror and anger on the other man's face that the person on the other end was John Lumic.
"I forbade this," the President growled, staring at the wall of silver bodies surrounding him.
Pete stared at them wildly, looking for Jackie in the huddled crowd. She stood there, blue eyes wide and fearful. Everyone in the room did, everyone's gaze fixed on what was going on, holding their breath at the one sided conversation going on in their presence.
"Who were these people," the President replied to the other side. "I demand to know, Lumic. Who were these people?"
Whatever was said on the other side, the President's expression grew more outraged and fearful. Suddenly, the robot standing most immediately in front of him spoke up in a horrific, electronic voice. "We have been upgraded."
"Into what?" A man stood out from the crowd, no one Pete knew. He was in a tuxedo, could have been a guest, could have been staff. He was tall and thin, with a shock of wild, dark hair. By the look he gave the creature in front of him, you would have thought he saw a ghost.
"The next level of mankind. We are human point two. Every citizen will receive a free upgrade. You will become like us."
Pete didn't think he could be more terrified. And then it spoke. Fear spiked across the room, but President Cain regarded the creature with sorrowful compassion. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what's been done to you. But listen to me, this experiment ends tonight."
"Upgrading is compulsory," the robot insisted with no emotion, no feeling, no humanity. It made Pete's skin crawl.
"And if I refuse," the President demanded.
"Don't refuse," the dark haired man insisted, expression taut.
The President ignored him "What if I refuse?"
The stranger looked at him, pleading. "I'm telling you, don't!"
The President refused to look at him. "What happens if I refuse."
There was a breathless silence for half a moment. When the robot spoke again, it was with grim perfunctory.
"Then you are not compatible."
"What happens then," Cain pressed.
"Then you will be deleted."
Before the cold words had time to chill through Pete's senses, the creature had reached a hand for President Cain's neck. The other man couldn't move fast enough as the fingers enclosed, and sparks of blue electricity arced across dark skin, his body going rigid, twitching and convulsing. People screamed. They began pushing, running, as the dark haired man grabbed the blonde girl he had seen earlier and ran past Pete. In the melee, somewhere, was Jackie.
"Jackie," he screamed her name, attempting to find her amongst the mass of people running and crying. "Jackie!"
There was no sight even of her bright head amongst those fleeing.
All hell had broken loose, with the robot creatures now grabbing whatever random guest they could. Shouts of anguish followed, and despite his fear for his wife, Pete knew he had to run. Turning, he made for one of the windows, out towards the lawn. Glass scattered like diamonds on the brick and grass, and ahead of him he could see the dark haired man and the girl, stopped, a line of silver monstrosities in their wake. As if on instinct, the girl turned towards Pete. "Quick, quick," she called, urging him towards them.
The man looked at him, wild. "Pete, is there a way out?"
The man spoke as if he knew him, though Pete had never seen him in his life. Like as not he just recognized Pete's image. Still, the way the man's dark eyes looked through him was unnerving. He was the one who spoke up, the one who had begged the President not to give in. He knew something about these creatures. Another Torchwood spy?
"The side gate," he nodded in the direction of the fence that led off the main garden. But he wasn't about to let them run off, not without a few answers. "Who are you? How do you know so much."
"You wouldn't believe me in a million years," the man grinned, turning towards the gate, the girl's hand in his, running full tilt. Pete followed, feet slipping on dewy grass in his expensive, Armani shoes. Just as they neared the gate in the fence, two silver figures loomed into their path. The man and girl stopped, mid stride, stumbling to a halt.
Out of nowhere, two figures raced across the lawn towards them.
"Who's that," the girl asked, breathless, as the figure of Ricky Smith charged up front.
"Get behind me," he ordered, as the other man, Jake Simmonds, tore up Without a thought, Pete and the pair scrambled behind them as they opened fire on the two figures advancing.
The girl stared at them, open mouthed. You'd have thought she'd never seen a gun before, or perhaps it was just Ricky Smith. When the firing stopped, she threw herself at him in awed delight. "Oh my God! I thought I'd never see you again! Look at you!"
Mild confusion and bemusement writ itself on Ricky's face. "Yeah, no offense, sweetheart, but who the hell are you?"
Another voice caught their attention, sounding just like Ricky's. "Rose, that's not me! That's the other one!"
They turned to see a carbon copy of Ricky Smith sauntering over, wide-eyed and out of breath.
"Oh, if things weren't bad enough, now there are two Mickeys," the dark haired man complained loudly.
"It's Ricky," the first Ricky retorted angrily.
"But there's more of them," the second Ricky pointed, as more silver bodies encircled them.
"We're surrounded," the girl, apparently named Rose of all things, murmured. She watched them each warily.
Jake did what most of the Preachers did best. He whipped his gun on them and started firing, only to be stopped by the dark haired man, who glare daggers at the utterly confused Jake.
"Put the guns down," the stranger snapped. "Bullets won't stop them."
Clearly, they didn't. The silver monstrosities still kept coming.
"No! Stop shooting now," the man ordered with the sort of authority Pete felt he should be mustering at the moment, but couldn't seem to find it. Instead, he turned towards the oncoming threat and held up his hands, his arms in his tuxedo jacket held high. "We surrender!"
He shot a glance at Rose, baffled beside him. "Hands up!"
The girl did as she was told, glancing at the second Ricky, then at Pete. Unsure of where this was all going, he went along with it, stiffly raising his hands as the dark haired man took the lead.
"There's no need to damage us," he called the the robots. "We're good stock. We volunteer for the upgrade program. Take us to be processed."
Pete wanted to ask the man if he was insane, but didn't have the change. One of the robots spoke in its eerie, mechanized voice. "You are rogue elements."
"But we surrender!" The dark haired man insisted.
"You will be deleted," the voice replied, seeming to not care one whit whether this fellow was trying to surrender or not.
"But we're surrendering," he shouted, looking desperate now. "Listen to me, we surrender."
"You are inferior," the robot coldly replied. "Man will be reborn as Cyberman, but you will be punished with maximum deletion."
Around them, a chorus of "delete, delete" rose, terrifying in its electronic inhumanness, as each one raised an arm up, pointed at them. He was going to die, right there, in his own garden, behind a madman, Pete realized. And he wouldn't even get a chance to tell Jackie that he loved her and that he was so sorry, for all of it.
The dark haired man stood in front of all of the pointing arms. Immediately all look of surrender fled as he straightened, reached into his pocket and removed something that he then pointed at them. A golden energy burst forth from his hand, enveloping the robot men, who bent over backwards with the sheer force of it, disintegrating into nothing. Even as Pete blinked against the sudden glare, they disappeared, misting away as if they had never existed.
Beside him, the girl, Rose, gasped and shivered.
"What the hell was that," the first Ricky swore, starting at the dark haired man.
"We'll have that instead," he shrugged, nonchalantly as he shoved whatever it was back into his pocket and grabbed Rose's hand. "Run!"
Before they could get far, however, a car horn sounded, catching their attention.
"Mrs. Moore," Jake and Ricky grinned, making for the vehicle It screeched to a stop just shy of them, the door slamming open. The silver-haired women he knew from his intell as Mrs. Moore sat behind the wheel, jerking her head at the lot.
"Everybody, in," she ordered. The others began to do just as she bid, but Pete didn't. He turned back to his house, the one he didn't even like that much. The screams that had been echoing in there now were all frighteningly silent. Jackie was in there, somewhere, alone and scared. He had to find her.
"I've got to go back," he said, turning to go. "My wife's in there."
The dark hair man grabbed him, pulling back with surprising strength for a man as wiry as him. "Anyone inside that house is dead," he hissed, eyes nearly black with sadness and empathy. "If you want to help, then don't let her die for nothing. You've got to come with us right now."
"Come on, get a move on," Mrs. Moore shouted from the front.
Pete wanted to shake him off, to pull away from him and tell him to sod off. Jackie couldn't be dead. But there was something in those eyes, far older than the young face that were in, that warned him against it. Instead he simply nodded, clambering into the van. Pete slumped into the seat next to the second Ricky, the one that wasn't giving him dirty glances from across the van. This Ricky, at least, was merely staring at him sideways, as if he were just as fantastic as the robot men they just encountered.
The last one in was the girl, Rose, who kept staring back at the house while the dark haired man urged her inside. Mrs. Moore grumbled about the slowness of their getaway as the man slammed the door shut behind them, and she sped off, gravel flying in their wake. Pete turned to stare behind him at the house that had, until minutes ago, been filled with life and laughter.
What had Lumic done?
"What was that thing," Ricky number one piped up in the silence, directing his question at the dark haired man.
"Little bit of technology from my home," the man replied, almost proudly.
Ricky number two frowned at him in worry. "It's stopped glowing. Has it run out?"
The man didn't look concerned. "It's on a revitalizing loop, it'll charge up in about four hours."
"Right," Ricky snorted. "So, we don't have a weapon anymore?"
"Yeah, we've got weapons!" Jake's sharp eyes cut directly at Pete. Hell, he swallowed, remembering suddenly the small snag in his own plan. The Preachers still didn't know who he was. "Might not be one of those metal things, but they're good enough for men like him."
Immediately Rose glared at the sharp-faced man, anger flaring golden in her eyes. "Leave him alone! What's he done wrong!?"
Pete would have smiled at her protectiveness, if he wasn't half terrified that Jake might actually just kill him before he had a chance to explain.
"Oh, you know," Jake shrugged coldly. "Just laid a trap that's wiped out the government and left Lumic in charge."
Bloody hell...that wasn't what he had bargained for in any of this, not at all.
"If I was part of all that, do you think I'd leave my wife inside," Pete snapped, the stress and fear of the last few minutes bubbling up inside of him, welling with the truth that he knew.
Ricky looked no more convinced than Jake. "Maybe your plan went wrong. Still gives us the right to execute you, though."
"Talk about executions, you'll make me your enemy." The dark hair man whipped on them both, a cold, simmering anger brewing just below his surface, leaving a palatable chill in the air that made both men inch back just a little. "And take some really good advice, you don't want that."
The two men exchanged nervous glances, silently agreeing that perhaps they didn't. Pete couldn't blame them. The strager had him terrified and confused. Who in the world was he? How did he know about all of this? And what was it about him, with his strange energy crystal and that aura of power?
"All the same," Ricky continued, still glaring at Pete, though perhaps a fraction less threatening. "We have evidence that says Pete Tyler's been working for Lumic since twenty point five."
Rose turned to him, disbelief on her face. "Is that true?"
Why did that hurt bother him so much coming from her?
"Tell them, Mrs. M.," Ricky number one called to the driver.
Mrs. Moore glanced at them in her rearview mirror. "We've got a government mole who feeds us information. Lumic's private files, his South American operations, the lot. Secret broadcasts twice a week."
Lord, the broadcasts he had Miles send to them. Pete could have laughed. "Broadcast from Gemini?"
Ricky turned to him, eyes like saucers. "And how do you know that?"
Pete rolled his eyes, heartily wishing he could slap the man and glad, somewhat, that his plan with the Preachers hadn't come to fruition if they were this thick. "I'm Gemini. That's me."
"Yeah, well you would say that," Ricky snorted.
"Encrypted wavelength six five seven using binary nine?" Pete sneered, feeling somewhat mollified at the stunned looks on Ricky and Jake's faces. "That's the only reason I was working for Lumic. To get information. I thought i was broadcasting to the security services. What do I get? Scooby Doo and his gang. They've even got the van."
He spat out the last bit, earning a bit of a giggle from Rose, as Ricky number two jumped in for some inexplicable reason. "No, no, no, but the Preachers know what they're doing. Ricky said he's London's Most Wanted!"
It was Pete's turn to snort and smirk at Ricky, who suddenly looked as if he wished for a hole to open up and swallow his twin right that second. "Yeah, that's not exactly…"
Ricky number two looked utterly lost. "Not exactly what?"
"I'm London's Most Wanted for parking tickets."
"Great," muttered Pete, as somewhere he thought he could hear Yvonne Hartman laughing at him. This was just...wonderful.
"Yeah, they were deliberate. I was fighting the system. Park anywhere, that's me," Ricky tried to defend himself, his voice becoming higher with every punctuation of his protest.
"Good policy," the dark haired man assured him, absently. "I do much the same. I'm the Doctor, by the way, if anyone's interested."
"And I'm Rose," the girl piped up, waving. "Hello!"
"Even better," Pete muttered, as It finally sunk in that it was the the name of Jackie's furball. "That's the name of my dog. Still, at least I've got the catering staff on my side."
What in the hell had he gotten himself into?
Rose looked at him in relieved approval. "I knew you weren't a traitor!"
Did she? How that was, he didn't know, the girl didn't know him from Adam. The way she stared at him, you'd have thought he was some sort of knight-in-shining armor, not some berk who'd let his boss take over the government. "Why is that, then?"
She shrugged her shoulders in her awful, black dress. "I just did."
Such utter faith from someone he hardly knew. A girl, some random stranger at his party, her eyes shining with belief in him, a nobody. Some guy she'd likely grown up seeing on telly and on the sides of buses. All she knew about him was that he was the rich and famous Pete Tyler, husband to Jackie. How could she possibly believe in a man who let all of this happen?
"They took my wife," he murmured, as inexplicable tears sprang to his eyes. She believed in a man who let his wife be taken while he ran and hid.
"She might still be alive," Rose replied with utter faith.
But he didn't want that. He'd rather Jackie be dead. "That's even worse," he replied, thinking of the video of the homeless men and the van. "Because that's what Lumic does. He takes the living, and he turns them into those machines."
"Cybermen," the Doctor corrected him grimly. "They're called Cybermen. And I'd take those earpods off, if I were you."
Unquestioningly, Pete did as he was asked, not able to think of a reason not to. He passed them over to the Doctor, who pulled a strange, humming flashlight out of his pocket and held it up to each one. "You never know. Lumic could be listening."
He passed them back to Pete. "But he's overreached himself. He's still just a businessman. He's assassinated the President. All we need to do is get to the city and inform the authorities. Because, I promise you, this ends tonight."
The resolve in the strange man's voice made Pete almost believe he would see to it himself. "How can you be sure."
The man turned his fathomless eyes on to him, dark and hard, even in the dim light of the van. "I've seen them before. And I will not let them win."
Seen them before? "Who are you," Pete found himself asking, wondering how that was even possible.
In a flash, the steel was masked with a cheery, almost goofy smile. "Me, I'm no one special. Just the Doctor. I like helping people is all. And I'll help you in this, Pete Tyler. But you'll have to trust me."
Trust him? Pete didn't even know who he was. But given the circumstances of where he was at, he could hardly see where he had a choice. "I suppose I have to...Doctor."
"Brilliant," the man beamed, as Rose beside him did the same. "Now, Mrs. Moore, take us to the nearest authorities. They'll think us mad, but we will stay till we convince them."
"They will think we're mad? I'm not so sure we aren't," she muttered back.
"That's the spirit, Mrs. Moore! Pedal to the metal!"
Tires screeched as the woman did just that, and Pete clung onto his seat for dear life.