(Author's Note: Hello Outlaw Gentleman and Shady Ladies, and welcome to A Night in Killcrest Manor! This story, Part 4 of the Twelfth Hour, has been a long time coming , and it is finally here. I hope you all enjoy it and that it was worth the wait. Take it easy, and stay tuned, there is much more to come)
"Tell me, Ms. Stewart, exactly why I should help Unit?" Jack Harkness couldn't believe he was actually here; not only that he had answered the call from Unit, but that he had even come to the meeting.
The brunette man sat across from Unit Science Officer Kate Stewart. His dark eyes scanned her for any clues as to what she was up to, and he made sure to keep his own lantern jaw set, and unreadable. He was good at that, having been an agent for Torchwood for many years, and a Time Agent for years before that.
He was youthful, and attractive, but it hid how old he really was; truly, even he wasn't sure. He had time travelled for hundreds of years before getting stuck on Earth, in the time of the dinosaurs no less. That had been so tedious; you can only run from a T-Rex so many times before you get bored. They say the soul was in the eyes, and looking into his, one would find something ancient indeed.
He smiled disarmingly at the woman sitting in front of him. That move was always a good one, and it drove the ladies wild. He wondered if Kate was single for a moment, immediately tossing that idea out of his head. No way was he going to open that can of worms. He had a feeling his life would be dramatic enough in a few minutes.
The blonde woman in front of him was all business anyway. Her face was serious, eyes cold, and calculating. She brushed her neat blonde hair from her blue eyes, staring him down. He could almost feel how hard this must be for her. She was like her father Lethbridge; she never wanted to ask for help. Something must have driven her to do so, something big. Something bigger than Unit, bigger than Torchwood, and bigger than their strained relationship. He had a feeling it was a man in a flying, blue, police box.
"Unit needs your help. Ineed your help, Mr. Harkness," she replied. She was still dancing around what they actually needed. Fine, she wanted to play hardball? He could do that.
"That's Captain Harkness, and frankly, I'm not sure I want to do that. Your organization has been up to some shady things lately. I understand that every government group has skeletons in the closet, and corpses stuffed in the crawlspace but yours... well, lets just say, that they aren't doing you any favors here." Jack finished, raising is brows, and tilting his head, before leaning back in his chair, resting his thumbs inside his suspenders. Her turn.
"That's rich coming from Torchwood. We remember what your organization used to be like; guns blazing into every situation. Explosives were your answer to every problem," the derision in her voice was evident.
"Yes before I ran things. However, I have been sure, in my reformation, to also change the behavior of my agents. How many problems have you actually had from Torchwood in the last decade?" he chuckled, "unless we shouldn't have killed all those Daleks during the Earth invasion, or destroyed all those Cybermen in Missy's robo-zombie-apocalypse."
"For the sake of cooperation, I'm not going to bring up Miracle Day," she replied with a self-satisfied smile. Jack snorted.
"We handled that the best we could. And...I don't remember Unit running in to give us a hand with that. In fact, I don't think you even called us to see if we were alright. You were probably too busy with your intergalactic prison camp." Kate sat back in her chair, narrowing her eyes.
"How do you know about that?" she whispered. He laughed in response.
"You expect an international spy agency to not hear about that? You must be slipping Kate. From what I hear, The Doctor was not happy about that. Not one bit."
Jack knew how The Doctor operated. He had known the renegade Time Lord for a long time. No matter what face he currently had, he was the same man with the same ideals. He didn't take kindly to cruelty. Jack felt the same way.
He had been surprised when he heard about the alien prison beneath the Tower of London. That had never been Unit's style. Science always led, and they always trusted in the right tactics bringing the right results. Although they did not always see eye to eye, Torchwood, and Unit held mutual respect.
He had lost some of that when he heard of that jail. From what information he had, it was more like a torture chamber. The Doctor had put a stop to that, and since then, all the prisoners had been released. However, in his eyes, the damage was already done.
Jack had seen cruelty, a lot of it. As a former traveling companion of The Doctor, he saw the best, and worst the universe had to offer. The Doctor taught him one thing that stuck, cruelty only led to more cruelty. There were times when one had to do the wrong thing, but for the right reasons. He understood that. That jail however, that was a step to far.
It made him hesitant to work with Unit, and Kate, who allowed that to happen. He had thought long, and hard about even coming to this meeting. However, he also knew she would not have called him unless it was a matter of precedence; so here he was. He wanted to be assured however, that Unit had pulled itself back out of the gutter. Jack wouldn't work with them if they were corrupt. He was many things, good, bad, incredibly dashing, and otherwise; corrupt was not among them.
"This is not about what Unit, or Torchwood, or what either of us have done, or not done. This is more serious than that," she finally stated.
"Alright then sweetheart, tell Uncle Jack what's wrong," he nodded with a grin. Her expression was unamused.
"There has been a break in at the Black Archive." He shook his head.
"What, is that His new hobby now? Is He bored, or something?" Jack asked sarcastically. They didn't need him for that; he imagined it was almost routine at this point. The Doctor was not under his, nor anyone's control.
"That's the problem, it wasn't Him," she said darkly. A chill ran down Jack's spine.
"Are you sure? Positive it wasn't a regeneration you haven't seen yet?" he asked. Kate nodded.
"Whoever it was, killed fifty two of my men. Does that sound like The Doctor's work to you?" He shook his head. That was disturbing. Killer game-show disturbing.
"What about one of his psychopathic pals, The Master, Davros, Celestial Toymaker..." he trailed off. There were too many enemies of The Doctor to fully list. It was a regular popularity contest in that TARDIS.
"None of those. We have even ruled out The Master, and most of his regenerations. Whoever this is, we don't have him on file." He could see the aggravation in her eyes. Not knowing was driving her insane. She was a driven woman, and, like her father, had chosen to sacrifice a good portion of her life to protect Earth. With a mystery opponent like this, that goal was in peril. He knew the feeling. Terror... that was what she was feeling.
"Why did he break in? Just to go on a Unit killing spree?" he asked. There had to be a bigger motive here. None of The Doctor's enemies, not even ones as sociopathic as The Master, broke into the Black Archive, and killed that many people just for kicks and giggles. There was something else at work here.
"That's the other part, he took something; your Vortex Manipulator." His blood ran cold.
Votex Manipulator's were portable time machines. Primitive by The Doctor's standards, it was still capable of the TARDIS' main function; travel through both time, and space. Such a machine falling into the wrong hands could be horribly destructive. The Time Lords kept a stranglehold on such technology for a reason. Even with them gone, that sort of technology was rare, and highly sought after.
The Doctor was a meddler; there was no doubt about that. So was Jack, for that matter. However, they attempted to make things better with their meddling. They saved people, stopped the destruction of whole planets, and star systems. They tried to use such technology for a good cause.
Not everyone else was so pure in their motivation. Irreversible havoc could be wrought with such a machine. They could kill anyone, or destroy anything, changing history how they saw fit, with no thought to the consequences.
Now the murderer of fifty two men had that ability. Jack understood why Kate had called him, and he was glad she had.
"I need to know everything you know about him, and your plan for tracking him down."
"We only have one line to go on, this," she replied. She slid a small card across the table, and Jack picked it up. It was definitely old; very withered by the passage of time. The writing on it was in an old style, Victorian era he would say. It said upon it, "The Great Intelligence Institute".
That did not sound familiar, but that was fine. Jack didn't need to know someone to track them down. It didn't matter that all of time, and space stood between them. He had been taught in that area by the best.
"We want you to find The Doctor. That is how we track this man down. If he has taken a Vortex Manipulator, he is either going to go after him directly, or The Doctor will find him. Their paths will cross, and we need you to get to The Doctor first." Kate's intense glare did not falter.
"Why not just have me hunt down our homicidal friend from the start? Maybe we can prevent needing The Doctor at all." He knew The Doctor was unaware of Unit keeping Jack's old manipulator. He hadn't told him, and he doubted Kate would.
"Because with a manipulator, he can attack any time, anywhere. I need someone we trust to not only protect The Doctor, but also our interests." Jack nodded, smirking. He saw where this was going.
"You're afraid if he encounters The Doctor on his own, and The Doctor succeeds, he'll never bring that manipulator back." Kate nodded.
"He can't know that manipulator is yours, and he can't know we had it without telling him. He sure as hell can't know we lost it." He understood her point in this. Whether he agreed, or not ,was a different story. There was only one thing left to ask.
"This is all very exciting to talk about Kate, but there's one problem; he took my manipulator. How can I accomplish any of this? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm good. I'm really good. But even Captain Jack Harkness isn't that good."
Kate did not speak, instead pulling out her phone. She tapped it a few times, and the room's single door opened. A man in a black suit walked it, set a metal briefcase on the table, and walked back out. How melodramatic.
Kate took a key from her pocket and clicked it into the lock. She then tapped on a small key pad upon the lid, and turned the key again.
"Kate Stewart," she announced loudly, and the case chimed, unlocking with a click. She opened it, and spun it around, showing it to Jack.
Inside was a bracelet. Covered in a multitude of buttons, and switches, and dominated by a screen. He knew this item better than any other. A Vortex Manipulator.
"How... why do you have another one of these?" He was admittedly caught off guard. He didn't know Unit was so well off as to have two of those.
"It was brought by Doctor River Song. She was asked to do so by The Doctor. When questioned further, she only replied "spoilers", before disappearing.
"That's interesting," muttered Jack.
"It's irritating," she grunted.
They were quiet for a short time, before Jack broke the silence in finality.
"I'll do it," he said, "but I'm not doing it for Unit, or Torchwood, or anyone else. I'm doing this for The Doctor." Kate nodded in reply.
Jack stood, and took the bracelet from the briefcase. He slipped it over his wrist, and buckled it tightly. He forgot how much these weighed, how heavy they were. He pressed a few familiar buttons, the machine humming to life.
"Good luck, Capitan," Kate smiled, almost looking sad.
"I won't need it sister. See you soon," he winked. He had every intention of finding The Doctor, however he had other business first. He needed to know his enemy. It was a basic rule of war. It was time to find out what the universe at large knew of The Great Intelligence Institute.
With a flash of white, Jack Harkness was gone, leaving not a trace behind.
"Do you think we should take Handles with us? I would hate for him to miss out," The Doctor's Scottish accent shouted from another room. Sarah Jane only snickered, and shook her head.
She stood before the floor length mirror, touching up her make up. She finished applying a small amount of blush to her heart-shaped face, and checked to be sure she had not smudged the liner around her brown eyes. She did little to hide the light wrinkles on her face; she was middle aged. There was not much she could do about that. She left her greying brown hair alone. She was never one for putting up or tying it back. She considered it one of her better features.
She adjusted her outfit a bit. She was always a tad uncomfortable in such elegant attire. She wore a long, dark blue gown, reaching to just above her ankles. The straps were a bit tight to her shoulders, but it did not bother her too much. It fit well, not showing her cleavage. She wasn't advertising after all. Over all, she though she looked quite refined.
That was the idea. The pair had been invited to a party this morning, so her normal, casual attire was not acceptable. The host was someone they also met this morning, an archeologist named Pierce Killcrest. They had helped him with a small issue involving a Cyberman. Upon returning to the TARDIS, they had received an invitation from the man, albeit thirty five years in the future. The TARDIS was currently in transit to that time. The Doctor wanted to attend the party before he got side tracked. Considering his proclivity for doing so, she agreed.
"I think we can probably leave Handles, at least until we fix him." She shook her head with a wry smile. He had salvaged the Cyberman's head, dubbing it Handles 2.0. Just when she thought she had gotten used to his odd behaviors he always seemed to throw her a curveball. Not that she minded. His strangeness was charming to her.
Satisfied with her appearance, she walked out of her room and down the TSRDIS' hall into the console room. The round chamber was bathed in amber light, mixing with the TARDIS' natural, cool blue. It had become comforting to her at this point. It made her smile, every time.
"So, how do I look?" Surprised by his voice, she turned around.
The Doctor stood in a stoic pose behind her, his hand on his chin, in mock deep thought. He had gone for a more debonair outfit than his usual Victorian attire. He wore a double-brested, black, smoking jacket, with a pair of dress pants to match. Beneath this was a white dress shirt, complemented by a neatly tied cravat. She noted he had kept his old boots, well worn, and still dusty from this morning's adventure, thirty years ago.
She caught a glimpse of that rogue smirk on his face. Although older looking and wrinkled, that smile almost made him seem youthful. Of course, his attack-eyebrows balanced that out, resting above a pair of wise eyes that had seen the face of time for an eon or two. She noted he had even groomed his mass of spiny grey hair atop his head, neatening it for the night to come.
"You look sophisticated as always," she complemented.
"Thank you Sarah," he shouted, breaking form, and jogging around the other side of the console, twiddling frantically with the controls, "truthfully I was testing you, just wanted to make sure your eyes were alright after that business in the mine this morning. God only knows what sort of contaminants were in that dust, and I know how dashing I look." She accidently snorted in reply, covering her mouth with her palm.
"And humble, I see too," she poked.
"Always Sarah, as I keep telling you, no one likes a braggart," he replied seriously. She shook her head with a smile.
A dull thud interrupted the pair, and he looked up, that same adventurous look in his eyes she had seen so often lately.
"We've landed," he announced, "come on, lets be off, it's been so long since we saw our friend Pierce."
"Oh yes, this morning was just ages ago," she joked.
"All perception, Ms. Smith. For us it was only hours. For him a lifetime. I wonder what he has been up to lately. In the mail, he called his home Killcrest Manor."
"Sounds fancy," she agreed.
"Don't worry, if it's stuffy and boring, we can leave early, I'll just tell him you were infected by Hemerophaly-Kalaform Encephalopathy and we have to leave. There's a great planet where it rains black snow. Amazing to see." He chattered.
"Even if it is, we can still stay. It's only one night, besides, as soon as they don't see crabs crawling out of my eyes, they'll know your lying."
"You're right... I'll have to think of something else. Common stomach flu it is," he murmured.
"I don't suppose my sonic lipstick is fixed yet, is it?" Sarah asked, changing the subject.
"I'm afraid not... honestly I'm not sure it will ever be the same." She shook her head in reply. She had broken it on an adventure not long ago, when she, and The Doctor stopped off in Puritan America. She had used a dangerous pulse setting that had stopped a homicidal robot, but it had also fried the tool. When The Doctor had done the same, his screwdriver had only recovered because it was a newer model. Her's, although updated with the latest software, was older. She hoped that it could be repaired... some day.
"That's fine, as long as you have yours, we should be alright," she shrugged. It was not ideal, but they would make due. Besides, it was just a party, what could really go wrong? On second thought, that was not a question she wanted to ask.
The pair stepped out of the doors of the TARDIS, walking out into the cool, night air. The sight before them could only be called one thing; spectacular.
The manor home spanning the hill ahead of them was gigantic, stretching out in either direction like a grand fortress. It resembled an old Victorian era mansion, however it was lit by cool, blue, electric lights. Both stories were decorated by thick marble columns and huge gilded windows. They could see lights twinkling from within, signaling the beginning of the party. The outer courtyard was decorated with various plants. Sarah recognized that some were from Earth, such as pine trees and lilac bushes, while others were far more alien. She spotted one tree that looked like an octopus, and another that grew fruit that pulsed like an organ. Plants of all colors, and shapes made this place beautiful; a veritable Garden of Eden.
Above the home, the night sky above was astonishing. Stars shown blue, and red, intermingled with a near by nebulae that seemed to spill across the sky, dyeing everything purple. A pair of silvery moons floated in the sky above.
As the pair walked up the driveway, Sarah Jane could not help but wonder how Pierce had made so much money. Had be become famous as he said he would all those years ago? Perhaps he really had been meant for greatness. Then again, wealth, and a large house, no matter how impressive, did not make one truly great.
They stopped at a pair of ornate wooden doors. The Doctor reached out, and pressed the button on the side. A loud beep followed, then a voice.
"Name please," came an upper-crustic voice.
"I'd like an order of two burgers, and two large fries," The Doctor replied, faking his best American accent. He looked at her with a mischievous wink. There was no answer for a few seconds, then the door creaked open.
Sarah Jane, and The Doctor walked in to the magnificent foyer. The entry hall was dominated by a sweeping staircase, leading up to a balcony over looking the door. The steps, and floor white marble, and the walls were decorated with fine art from around the galaxy.
A man stood by the door, wearing a fitted tuxedo. He was middle aged, with a thin mustache, and a comb over that did little to hide his receding hair. He held out one white-gloved hand.
"May I take your coat sir?" He asked, drawing an odd look from the Time Lord.
"Of course not! John D. Rockefeller gave this to me! Didn't do much to stop me from starting a bunch of unions, but I still thought it was a nice gesture."
"Well, smack me mother sideways... you actually came, both of ya. And you don't look a day older than I remember," came a cocky voice from upstairs.
The man was older. He was tall, cutting an impressive figure in a black and red suit. His face was partially obscured by a neat, grey beard, and his thinning hair was cut into a short crewcut. His face was marked by age, and one eye obscured by a silver, metal eye patch. He was unmistakable, even in his older age. Pierce Killcrest, in the flesh.
The dark room was only illuminated by the light glaring from the many computer screens hanging upon the wall. That did not bother The Great Intelligence; not one bit.
His cold eyes stared at the screens as he adjusted the top hat on his greying head. He watched, and waited.
His servants were everywhere, and through them he could see. He had a bird's eye view of every government body across the universe that was important enough to catch his eye, every congress twiddling their thumbs trying to make a decision, and every empire trying to rise, and conquer. Even the wealthy were not immune; he watched them just as intently. Mortals put stake in money. Money, was therefore power. If his servants could carefully manipulate those with that power, it was all the better for him.
Even the most terrible were not immune. One screen showed the Daleks as they trundled amongst one and other, while another recorded aboard the Sontaran sixty fourth capital fleet. The Great Intelligence saw all. He knew all. No one could hide.
He smiled as one screen caught his attention. He watched as his foe, his hated enemy, wandered through a house with his companion on his heel, that stupid woman so easily gulled by his charms. He had fallen into a trap no one knew existed. Excellent.
"Let the game's begin Time Lord," he murmured in the dark. He clicked a pair of buttons on is key board, and put his mouth closer to a microphone sticking from it.
"Activate Unit three-six-two-five-one. Order: eliminate The Doctor, and his companion." His laughter filled the dark room. He hoped the Time Lord would not disappoint him. What fun would that be?