When Pete finally did manage to make it to Torchwood later that day, after several hours of sleep and aiding Mickey in fixing the runner on his grandmother's stairs, he found a scene of utter chaos in his wake. Not that it had been easy getting there. The heart of London was jammed with people getting out and others trying to get in to find missing loved ones. The military had been roused from some corner of Great Britain, and surrounded the city center. Despite using Ricky's car tucked away in his Gran's garage, Pete, Mickey, and Jake had found it ultimately easier to get by on foot, with Pete using his face and name to get them past guards in one section to make it to the towering glass buildings at Canary Wharf.
Torchwood's lobby was open, and many of its employees huddled there, some with families, all confused and lost as he wandered in. A few he recognized, like Yvonne Hartman's assistant. She sat on a couch, huddled by a man he didn't know, but surmised by the ring on her left hand he might be her husband.
"What's going on here," he murmured, staring at the the scene, wondering what in the world could be causing this.
"The military won't let us go home," one man said, ire clear in his voice. "Said the city is under martial law until they clear all of this up."
"I don't even know how I got here," another plump man in a comic book t-shirt muttered somewhat hysterically. "I was just going round to see my friends for some games, and when I woke up, I was standing in the middle of the street in a line of people I didn't know, miles from home."
"I was having dinner with my partner." A model thin woman with a nasty bruise forming along one perfect cheekbone nodded, looking just as lost, but also frightened. "We were chatting, and then I don't know what happened. And when I woke up, I was in the old power station in Battersea, and she was gone. I don't know where she's gone to, and I can't reach her!"
Pete glanced to Mickey and Jake, who looked equally sad about the poor woman's plight. Maybe her girlfriend made it, maybe not.
"I need to see if Miles is alive. My PA, he'd have a handle on this situation."
"What's he look look like?" Jake began scanning the space, his eyes narrowing across the huddled people.
"Blonde, glasses, military efficient." It was how Pete thought of him. It was only after that he realized how bad of a description it was.
"Sounds like your type," Mickey muttered, earning a hard look from Jake, before he snorted and punched the other man in the arm. Pete paused, considering Jake for a moment. It wasn't long, however, before he heard his name shouted from a balcony above. He spun around to look up and see Miles waving him up. Pete didn't think he'd been so happy to see his taciturn and acerbic PA alive before in his life.
"Come on," he told the other two, legging it for the stairs where people sat, scattered, as he tried not to tread on anyone's fingers. Miles met him at the top, and Pete wasn't ashamed to say he hugged the man awkwardly once he got a hold of him.
"You're alive," he breathed, pulling away. Miles looked oddly flustered and at a loss as to what to do or say.
"You...are too?" He pulled himself together, glancing at Mickey and Jake with a hint of surprise. "And you have the Preachers in tow?"
"Part of them, yeah," Pete nodded back to them. "Jake Simmonds, Mickey Smith, this is Miles Conner, my personal assistant."
Miles recognized their names and faces instantly...well mostly. "Mickey?"
"Long story," Mickey shook it off, holding out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."
"You look familiar," Jake mused, studying him. Pete looked towards his PA, who only averted the statement.
"Might have seen me around, hard to say. Where's Mrs. Moore?"
"Dead," Jake said. It occurred to Pete he hadn't even asked about her. "And her name was Angela Pryce. Her real one, that was. We'll need to tell her family."
Miles glanced at Pete who nodded. "Fine. But that may take some time. The CybusNet is down, has been since Battersea was blown to hell. Am I right in suspecting you may have had something to do with it."
"Might have done," Pete replied, pulling Miles with him out of the prying eyes of those there. "Miles, what are all these people doing here?"
"Most are employees, stuck on this side of the city. The military has been in force here since even before the power station exploded. All from different places outside the city. Seems Lumic struck where he had plants first. Those too far away didn't get the signal."
"And the military are keeping all these people here? What for?"
"Trying to keep the peace, or so they say. Harriet Jones is in charge now, but I think she's just scrambling to keep up with the situation."
"And Yvonne's not calling her off the ledge on this one? There is a human crises going on here and she's not trying to intervene?"
Miles paused, staring at Pete in shock. "You don't know?"
"Know what?" Pete shot back, before the penny finally dropped. "She didn't…"
"She hasn't been seen since last night. Hell, most of the Torchwood staff was caught up in this, Pete. They all had their earpods, standard Torchwood protocol. The only reason I didn't was because…"
"Your earpods were broken by the alien the other day."
"Exactly," Miles nodded.
"Alien," Mickey and Jake exclaimed in unison. Oh, Pete had yet to mention that part. Miles arched an eyebrow at the pair.
"Gentlemen, Torchwood is a research facility that specializes in the study of extraterrestrials." Pete looked pointedly at Mickey. "Something some of us have had more experience with than others."
Jake whipped a look at Mickey, who shrugged and muttered, "Tell you later."
"Right, now that we have that secret out, let's focus on the matter at hand," Miles cut in, still managing to be snippy despite his clear exhaustion. "The reason these people are trapped here, Pete, is because the government won't let them go home. And we, as Torchwood, have no way to make them listen to us because we are currently without a leader."
"So who is the next in line beyond Hartman," Pete snapped.
"Well it would be either the head of research or the person in Yvonne's old position, but both are dead as far as we can tell."
"And no one from the board can be roused?"
"Most of them were at your party," Miles pointed out.
Bloody hell. Steven Cavanaugh, Jim Brickman, likely others. Those that had survived the initial attack likely didn't survive the power station.
"So where does that leave us?" Pete had a sad, sinking feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.
"Well, sir, no offense, but you are standing here. And you have lots of people management experience."
Pete scoffed at his assistant. But Miles wasn't laughing. "You can't be serious."
"I think there are very few reasons for me to be joking in this situation."
"Miles, I can't do this. I'm a businessman."
"And a leader, Pete. And people recognize your face. They trust you."
"They shouldn't," he snapped, glaring at the other man. "I've been a spy for Torchwood for years, earning the trust of the great of the good and reporting back to my superiors on all their plans. Spies aren't trustworthy people."
"No. But who else can do this?"
Miles bold fact was a slap of cold water in Pete's face. He was right. Damn it, he was right. No one else could do it, take up the reins, not in this. He looked to Mickey and Jake, who seemed utterly perplexed by what was going on. All they wanted to do was kill Cybermen. How in the hell could he make all of this work?
"Right. What do we know?" He turned back to his assistant, who was already pulling out a tablet and information on it.
"Our best estimates at the moment are numbers between five and ten thousand, and that's just in the London area. Lumic has factories all over the world, and piecing together the intel we've gotten from the Preachers and other sources, my guess is that he's been stockpiling these robots for months, maybe years. He's built factories in areas like Rio, Mexico City, and Bangkok, places where the slum problem is so bad that no one would notice a few missing people of a day."
"So he could have had whole armies of these things."
"Chances are high they are still there, waiting inside the factories for their orders."
"We can free them of that," Mickey pipped up, holding up Rose's phone. "We've got the codes. We could jam their emotional whatever and let their heads explode!"
"Because, what, they aren't someone's son or daughter, husband or wife, or anything?" Miles glared at the suddenly apologetic Mickey. The younger man bowed his head, glancing at Jake, who looked equally as ashamed.
"I am guessing Jackie didn't make it," Miles added, glancing sidelong at Pete. It caught Pete short, Miles, who had long hated his wife, asking about her. All Pete could manage was a short, tight shake of his head, his jaw tightening.
"Right, well, let's just deal with what we got for now, shall we?" Miles jerked his head towards the glass, double doors. "I need to put you in contact with President Jones."
Pete balked at the suggestion, even as he followed his PA down the carpeted hallways. "But I'm not in charge."
"Someone's got to be, Pete, might as well be you," he countered with a giant grin. "Now, Frick and Frack, you coming?"
He was talking to Mickey and Jake, and they looked utterly perplexed. Pete grimaced and nodded his head at the pair, who followed along quietly behind. The upper levels of Torchwood were still keycard sealed, and compared to the lobby of the building, were peaceful and quiet. It would almost be hard to believe, looking about, that the entire world outside had changed. Even as he thought that, however, he caught sight of a television keyed into BBC news, which was now up and running more or less normally, despite the frantic expressions on everyone's faces.
Pete had no office in this building, never needed one. He only typically went in to speak to Yvonne, and kept his offices at the Vitex building nearby. It occurred to him as they made their way through the floors that he had no idea where he would even make this phone call. And how in the world could he carry any weight with now President Jones if all she even knew about him was that he was the man on the adverts selling health tonics?
"We'll use the main conference room, it's got a direct line to the palace, shouldn't be as affected by the network issues." Miles bustled into the large, chrome and wood space, covered in monitors. Outside of the glass windows, he could see in the streets, the people, the tanks, the fear palatable in the air.
"It's mad, this is." Beside him Mickey looked out over London. "All those people in one small space like this."
Pete nodded, grimly. "Harriet Jones is a fair woman. We'll get them home."
"She's alright," Mickey sniffed. "In our world, she was a bit batty, but meant well enough. Made the Doctor angry, though, and he had her removed as Prime Minister."
Pete considered the scrawny, manic man he met. He hardly looked as if he'd have the power enough to remove anyone from office, and yet he witnessed him take down John Lumic with nothing more than a sonic screwdriver and a giant gob that didn't know how to quit. There was power in that man, immense power. He'd felt it sitting in that van as he vowed to bring down the Cybermen.
"How did he manage it," Pete finally asked.
"Huh?" Mickey grunted, pre-occupied by what was outside.
"The Doctor, how did he remove her from office?"
"Dunno," Mickey replied, still watching the scene below. "He said something to her aid, and next thing you know they had a vote of no-confidence 'cause of her health. I guess he brought it up."
"That all it took?"
"Yeah, a coup d'etat with just six words."
"Your Doctor is a powerful man. Scary when you think about it."
"Yeah," Mickey admitted. "Not gonna lie. Death and destruction usually lie in his wake."
"And you leave your girlfriend in the hands of someone like that?"
Mickey didn't seemed as bothered by the idea as Pete suddenly felt. "He'd die before let something happen to Rose. And besides, it's like your PA over there was saying. Sometimes, someone's got to step up and do the hard bits, whether they like it or not. That's the Doctor. He sort of...floats around the universe, through all space and time, and ends up finding these hard bits. And he tries to fix them, yeah? Tries to make them better. And sometimes that means he's in the thick of it, like with this. Him, me, and Rose, we was just traveling, messing around, supposed to go to some planet with these beautiful deserts, right? And we end up in a different dimension helping you lot out."
"Quite by accident?"
"Yeah, funny how that works," Mickey acknowledge, glancing to where Miles and Jake were on the landline phone, attempting to patch through a video conference to Buckingham Palace. "Thing is, he only ended up at your house cause of Rose. She wanted to see you, see if you lived up to her expectations, I guess."
"And do I?" Pete couldn't help but blurt that out. Not that he should care what some girl who wasn't his real daughter would think of him, he likely wouldn't ever even see the girl again.
Mickey studied him for a long, measured moment. "Tell you what. You do right by these people down there and stand up for them with Harriet Jones, and I bet you would."
Pete couldn't decide if the boy had an amazing amount of cheek or was a lot smarter than he liked to let on to people. "This is all madness, you know."
"Yeah, and so is turning people into robots and having daughters from other universes show up on your doorstep, but it happens." Mickey slapped him on the shoulder. "You got this, boss. Me and Jake, we'd like to help, if we can."
He didn't know this boy, had hardly gotten to know his predecessor, but for whatever reason, his vote of confidence felt good. "Thanks."
"Pete!" Miles called. He turned towards the monitor where a live video feed was in progress. Belatedly, Pete considered his appearance. He hadn't showered since the morning before, his suit had seen better days, and his skin felt grimed with sweat, smoke, and whatever had been on the street as he lay there. But he made the best of it, straightening his tie and moving in front of the video camera. On the other end he could see people milling about, most of President Cain's cabinet as a matter of fact. In the middle of all of it sat Harriet Jones, looking slightly stunned and overwhelmed by it all.
"Can you hear me over there," Pete called, catching their attention. President Jones waved at them to be quiet. She stared at the monitor, quite surprised.
"Pete Tyler? Is that you?"
"Yes, Madam President," he called, deciding it was best to use her official title, get off on the right foot.
Another member of the cabinet, he thought the man's name was Oliver...was it his first or last...spoke up from the back. "What in the blazes are you doing in Torchwood?"
Pete glanced at Miles, who nodded encouragingly. "As of right now, I am running it."
A general rumble came from the other side as the President's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "You? Why?"
"Well, because all other high ranking Torchwood personnel are dead," he replied, feeling some of himself coming back, the Pete Tyler assertiveness if not his charm. "Or so we presume. They are missing. Yvonne Hartman has not been accounted for, nor have any of the members of her directorship."
"This still doesn't answer my question, Mr. Tyler," President Jones cut in distractedly. "Last I heard you were the head of a soft drink company."
"Health tonic," he corrected.
"Whatever, by whose authority do you sit in Torchwood now?"
"The fact that I am perhaps one of the most senior people here with any knowledge of what's been going on. I've got twenty years field experience for Torchwood, and frankly, I've been at the heart of this matter since the beginning, so with all due respect, Madam President, there's no one else left to take the job."
He glanced at Miles who nodded grimly. Pete's stomach roiled at the thought of all the lives lost.
"You're Torchwood?" Jones blinked in shocked surprised on the other side of the screen, along with all the other members of her cabinet. "All this time?"
"How else do you think a no-nothing from the estates makes good with his own company. I mean, honestly, it's just sugar water with vitamins, and that story is almost too good to believe."
"I believed it," she replied, sounding somewhat hurt, and he wished he had more time to feel bad about it.
"I'd apologize, but we have more pressing issues, like the thousands trapped behind our military line. It will be a human catastrophe soon if we don't get them out of here."
"We are well aware, Mr. Tyler, but with the situation as it is, and we have no intel on what has been going on."
"I do," he shot back, cutting her off. "I do because I was in the heart of it. It was John Lumic."
"Lumic?" Another member of the group surrounding the President interjected. "Creating robots to set on the world?"
"Worse," Pete corrected, grimly. "Taking people, human beings, and using their brains in cybernetic bodies. Creating an army...a world of his own, with no sickness, no war, no death. He was trying to create his idea of utopia."
It had been idealistic, that was for sure, perhaps with the best of intentions, for all that it took no consideration for human will into it.
"Why," President Jones asked, unable to conceal the horror in her voice.
"Because he was dying," Pete replied, softly. "Because he wanted to live. And he didn't want anyone to stand in the way, least of all the President of Great Britain."
He could see the gears click for Harriet. "He had a meeting with Lumic yesterday."
"Regarding his new technology," Pete affirmed. "I was there. He didn't agree to it. And so Lumic acted. He used the earpods from his company through the network that he created to force everyone into his factories. And the one in Battersea isn't the only one, there are several across the world, where he's been stockpiling these Cybermen, perhaps for years."
"And you are sure of this."
Miles spoke up then. "Torchwood has the intel on all of this, I'll make it available to your office as soon as I can."
"Torchwood? And did you know about it when even MI5 hadn't a whiff of this?"
"Would you have honestly suspected someone as respectable as Lumic with something as heinous as this?" Pete retorted, merhaps a tad tetchy, but too tired to care. "And besides, Torchwood had its reasons for keeping an eye on Lumic. The technology he was using was from our research labs, made available to him by several previous directors. All the advances he came up with were due to technology he'd been given license to."
"And so Torchwood spied on him." President Jones quickly supplied. "You were sent to spy on him?"
Pete wasn't about to deny the truth now. "Yeah, I was. I was assigned to sell my company to Lumic and earn his trust, begin working as his right hand man, and see what I could find out."
"You bloody well didn't find out enough, did you?" Someone called.
"Oi, he knew more than your lot, and he was working his best to get the truth out there, Just you all weren't listening," Jake stepped in, narrow eyes cutting at the President.
"Jake," Pete hissed.
"No, I didn't see any of the government stepping in when we tried to say something? Instead they just bought into Lumic's side, called us anarchists, and then tried to have us arrested."
"For parking tickets," Mickey whispered, earning a dirty look from Jake.
"Who is this," President Jones demanded.
Pete glared at the pair, who looked somewhat sheepish now that they had made a scene. "These two are all that remain of a small, protesting group of hackers known as the Preachers."
"The anarchist group?"
"We were post-modern prophets speaking the truth to power, ta," Jake cut in.
"Yeah, the anarchist group," Pete confirmed, wearily. "They were part of my information system."
"No wonder Lumic got away with it all," someone on the other end muttered.
"I'm sure there were many reasons for why Lumic got away with it, and we will have plenty of time to decide who could have done what better," Jones' voice was steely as she glared around her room. "But for now, Mr. Tyler is right, we have a crises on our hands. You are certain that the robots, these Cybermen, are neutralized for now?"
"The ones in Battersea, yes," Pete assured her. "We were able to get the code. We have a phone that has it on there, were able to override the network. Lumic was able to do what he did by creating an emotional inhibitor circuit that overrode any human emotions the brain might be feeling. The code bypasses that program, nullifying it."
"And how does that stop them?"
Pete felt his stomach go queasy at this bit, remembering all too well the anguished cries from the poor souls who saw themselves suddenly in metal bodies, against their will, and the horror of discovering they were no longer human. "When they realize they aren't in their bodies anymore...it...they can't handle that emotion. Most of them simply died from it."
It was grim, not pleasant to think about, and Pete could see the effect it had on the room on the other side.
"And...they still knew who they were?"
He thought of Jackie in her metallic body. He wondered if she thought of him. Likely, she went mad instantly, seeing what happened to her. "Yeah, they did."
"Those were people in those bodies," President Jones whispered. "People with lives and feelings."
"Likely about seven thousand of them in Battersea, Madame President. I saw them."
"And all of them just dead?" The President looked as if she were going to be sick. Pete could only nod, mutely.
"And you say there are more of them stuffed away in Lumic's warehouses?" It was the Oliver fellow again, his dark eyes beady from his jowly face. "Do you have any idea how many we are looking at?"
Pete glanced at Miles, who ultimately answered the question. "Possibly hundreds of thousands."
"An army," Oliver paled, glancing to the President.
"An army of people who had no desire or wish to be turned into what they became," President Jones replied sharply.
"You saw what just a few thousand did in one night here, if those things get loose, they could destroy the world," he countered, and Pete found he didn't totally disagree with the fellow. But he could see the hesitation in Harriet Jones' expression, and knew the feeling.
"Madame President," he called, softly. "My wife...Jackie, you knew her. She was one of those creatures in that station. She didn't make it."
The pain of it cut sharply, twisting in his chest, but he continued. "I don't regret the decision we made to use those codes. We gave them back their soul and their ability to feel, if just for a moment. And we had to do something to stop all this. But...yeah, it's not an easy choice to make, I won't lie. But between saving the human race or hoping we can contain them and treat them humanely, I don't know with their current programming if that's possible."
It wasn't a good answer, a nice, clean one, but this wasn't a perfect situation either.
"I'll have to discuss this with the other world leaders, bring this up before the UN and decide what next steps can be taken, if any." She nodded firmly, glancing around her room. "I need to see how bad off everyone else has been hit, and what assistance if any, we can give, and we need to warn them to seal off those factories and not let anyone in or out."
"And what about Tyler's code," Oliver insisted.
Jones turned to the monitor, staring hard at Pete. "Can Torchwood develop a way of sharing this with anyone who needs it?"
"We can do one better than that," he nodded. "I'll work on getting teams together to help neutralize any threats that arise. Torchwood works independently of the government, anyone who needs it, we can offer our assistance."
"You'd authorize that?"
Pete shrugged, realizing what an awesome undertaking it was. "Torchwood is the ones who started this mess. Might as well be the ones to clean it up, right?"
The President nodded. "Good man, Tyler. Coordinate with my office when you all have settled on a plan, would you?"
"I will," he replied. "And Madam President, about the military lines?"
"Oh yes," she glanced to someone just off camera. "Start opening up the various exit points, see to an orderly transition of everyone where they need to get to?"
Whoever she was speaking to must have complied. She turned back to the camera. "I'll need a report about this, Tyler, I mean everything. I don't care what sort of privilege Torchwood has had, I swear if I don't get every iota of information I need…"
"You'll get it," Pete murmured. "You can trust me on that."
"I hope so." She didn't look quite convinced. "Very well. We have a lot of work to do. We'll be in touch."
And with that, the communication with Buckingham Palace shut off.
Pete held his breath for long moments, staring at the screen. He couldn't believe what he had just done. He had just...taken over Torchwood. Just like that. And no one questioned it? Him...and estate brat, born and raised.
"I'll get on that intel for the President, sir," Miles murmured somewhere to the side of him. "And I'll see what sort of services Torchwood can offer her government in this crises."
"Thanks," Pete replied, somewhat numb. "And see about getting everyone downstairs busy. If they are Torchwood, gather them together and explain the situation. If not, make them comfortable until we can get them home in an orderly fashion. And send Yvonne's assistant up here. I want to speak to her personally."
"Right," Miles replied, moving to follow his orders with his every pervasive efficiency. To the other side, Mickey and Jake watched him go, then looked at Pete, as if hoping he could tell them what to do with themselves now.
"Anything we need to be on," Jake asked, unsure of himself despite the bravado.
"Yeah," Pete replied, shaking himself and considering the pair. Jake he knew was a keen tactical mind for all that he was little more that a street thug. Mickey was a mystery to him, though he said he was good with cars and it was clear he was good with computers. He knew Mickey had a much wider experience with sort of thing than Jake did, and the idea of aliens and all the other manner of madness that went with Torchwood wouldn't bother him in the least. They'd be valuable assets, in the long run. Now, what to do with them?
"Lumic's factories, the President can't act against them, but I have a feeling once she speaks to everyone else, they will want something to be done about them. I just offered Torchwood up as the crack team to shut them down. You two managed to take down one, between the pair of you and our field operatives, think you can hash out what we can do about the rest?"
Jake looked thoughtful, Mickey vaguely sick. But both nodded.
"Good...and while you're at it, you might as well get trained up on the other stuff as well, the real work of Torchwood. The aliens that come here, some peacefully, some not, but we help regulate out contact. Some of those we are aligned with might have an idea of what we may or may not be able to do about the Cybermen, maybe even a way of humanely saving them. We won't know until we ask."
Predictably, only Jake looked gobsmacked when he said that. "Aliens?"
Mickey only laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Wait till you meet the Slytheens. All I have to say is keep plenty of pickle juice handy."
Pete didn't know what that was a reference to, and was too afraid to ask. "Right, with that settled, boys, welcome to Torchwood."
He certainly hoped he knew what he was doing.