3
Ianto wanders the expansive environment, forcing a smile to an employee here and nod to one there, but for the most part, his mind is vacillating between too many thoughts, and none at all.
With his meal half-eaten, Ianto stands, closes the door to his office, and locks it.
He takes a swig of Big Red -from a glass bottle- and unlocks the drawer of a small desk in the corner. He swings it open to reveal an impressive, antique, large-tube, Shortwave Radio. He flicks a switch and begins fidgeting with the dials... ...until finally... ...he hears Mickey strumming on his acoustic guitar while singing NOTHING ELSE MATTERS by METALLICA.
Ianto leans back with a smile, listening for a long moment... before the music abruptly ends.
Mickey sighs "How long have you been listening?"
"Long enough" Ianto replies "You're gettin' pretty good at that thing."
"Yeah, well..." Mickey sighs "...there ain't much else to do on this island."
Ianto smirks "Rough life."
"You don't know the half of it. So... tell me about last night."
"How'd you know?" Ianto asks.
"Police scanner. What can I say? I'm always lookin' out of ya', brutha."
"Is that what it is?" Into snorts.
Mickey chuckles "In a way."
"There were two of them. A man and a woman. Young. Late twenties. Latino." Ianto reports softly "They were scared. Desperate. You could smell it on them. (a beat, then) She had a pistol."
"What kind?"
Ianto shrugs even though he can't see it "An old .38-special. Hadn't been shot in a while. Hadn't been cleaned even longer. And it was... a..."
As the Female Thief pulls back the hammer of her pistol, Ianto can see that the chamber is Empty.
Ianto uncaps a second bottle of Big Red.
"Seriously?" Mickey asks. "Empty?"
Ianto sighs "Seriously"
"Huh. Well, then, now I know why you didn't do what you didn't do." Mickey finally says. This statement infers volumes. "What'd they get?"
.Ianto instinctively reaches for the watch missing from his wrist without thinking about it. "Not much. Just a couple of bucks."
"Ah, well... I guess it coulda' been worse, huh?"
"Yeah. Maybe." Ianto grimaces.
Mickey is hesitating, then says "You holdin' back on me, brother?"
"No, I'm... I'm just not feeling up for a game today, Mickey."
"I hear ya'." Mickey agrees "Circle back when you're centered, Toto."
The radio feeds dies, leaving Ianto to stare down at the chess set.
.
.
Ianto trudges up the front walk towards home with his face down, shoulders slumped. He slows to a stop and looks up. Through the front window, he sees Jack, Blake, and Alice in the kitchen preparing dinner, all smiles and laughter. The family Jack always wanted, made him promise to be present for. the life they both built. Ianto stares at them for a long moment... before turning to walk away.
.
.
Ianto is on to the phone to Jack "I'm gonna' go bring dinner over to dad. It's been awhile."
.
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Ianto sits alone on the bus, staring at the front of the vehicle, lost in the absence of thought, his arms resting limply within his lap.
.
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Carrying dinner in take-out bags, Ianto opens the front door and enters the Lobby where he approaches Joey -the security guard- at the security kiosk.
"You do know visiting hours are long past, right?" Joey calls out.
"All I know..." Ianto tosses Joey one of the bags before signing in on the clipboard. " ...is that you like Pastrami on rye. Extra mustard, extra pickles... and no sauerkraut."
Joey is grinning "My man."
,
,
Ianto approaches door number 113 and knocks out of respect entering to find Ifan Jones -late seventies, tall, gray, piercing eyes, stoic, mute by stroke- perched in his recliner before a large television set, currently playing an old, black-and-white episode of PALADIN.
Ianto heads into the kitchen where he carefully plates their meals on to a pair of trays. We notice an Amazon ALEXA gathering dust on the counter. For himself, Ianto has a large plate of corned beef and cabbage with a side of onions and potatoes.
He uncorks a bottle of wine and pours himself a glass. For Ifan, Ianto assembles a plate consisting of meat loaf and mashed potatoes with heavy gravy, a side of roasted corn, and a roll. He then places a can of BUDWEISER alongside a glass of brandy... before delivering the tray to his father who begins to eat, his eyes only tracking the television and his meal.
A long beat, then Ifan says softly "You ok? (motions) Because you don't look ok."
Ianto sits down beside him.
"I'm fine." and begins to eat in silence. As he does so, we notice a framed picture taken forty years ago Ianto, Ifan, Rhiannon the baby sister- Jenny -the matriarch- and adopted brother Mickey who, although it is far too big, is proudly wearing Ianto's now stolen watch.
As Ifan now sleeps in his chair before the television, Ianto does the dishes. Once done, he hesitates... and opens a drawer to find a pack of cigarettes and the ZIPPO lighter which we recall from the very first scene. As he taps one out, he walks onto the patio where he sparks a flame to the lighter, but does not light a cigarette. Instead, he just enjoys the feel of the cigarette between his lips. As he does so, his gaze becomes that of a thousand yard stare, the mingled sounds of the city gradually becomes a mind-numbing, high-pitched squeal.
Ianto opens the closet door in his father's room, reaching inside to turn on the light. Inside, we see a menagerie of plastic-wrapped clothing hanging beneath a shelf on which dozens upon dozens of shoeboxes are stacked tightly, many wrapped in twine. Ianto reaches deep within, searching... ...to pull free an antique MOSSBERG SHOTGUN: a stunningly beautiful piece of weaponry.
He clicks it open to find it loaded before closing it again. Ianto thinks for a long moment before replacing the shotgun, opting out of that much power. Unfolding a small step ladder leaning against the wall therein, Ianto climbs to the top, reaches back into the closet, and pulls free an old, Cuban Cigar Box - it too wrapped in twine. Ianto places it on the ledge of the shelf, hesitates, and unwraps the twine.
He then takes a breath, holds it, and with eyes unblinking- opens the cigar box. Inside we see an old -but perfectly cleaned and polished- COLT 1911; silver with a mother-of-pearl inset grip. Resting beside it are two magazines, a thick wad of hundred dollar bills, and a weathered, leather, Badge Holder.
He opens it to find his father's old FBI ID and badge.
Ianto closes it and tosses it down onto the bed followed by the wad of cash. Selecting a magazine, Ianto claps it into the pistol, and pulls back the slide; locked and loaded.
He tosses the weapon down next to the cash, closes the box leaving just the one magazine behind- and reties it with the twine before sliding it back into place. Ianto climbs down, refolds the step ladder, and returns it to lean against the wall. Knowing his father's long forgotten wardrobe well, he searches, flipping through the sealed garments... until he comes upon a time-worn Bomber jacket, a cross-thatched bandage of duct-tape affixed to the lower back. Slipping into it, a change seems to come over him. In fact, as he casts a glance at himself in the mirror, Ianto seems to be evolving... almost changing somewhat.
Ianto opens a drawer to toss in his wallet, keys, and cell phone. Just as he is about to close it, he pauses, reaches in, and removes a pair of Silver-Tinted Aviators.
Ianto slips them into his jacket pocket before turning to retrieve the pistol -which he tucks into the back of his pants- and both the ID and wad of cash which go into his inner-jacket pocket. Ianto exits to find Ifan standing before him, his eyes heavy upon him. The two gauge one another in silence with Ianto unable -or unwilling- to meet his gaze.
"Tad?" Ianto says softer still "There's this thing I gotta' do."
A long beat... and Ifan offers him a slight nod before stepping aside. "Then you best go do it."
Ianto moves past, exits, and closes the door behind him, leaving Ifan to sigh, tilting his head to crack his neck
Ianto takes a couple of steps into the hallway, glances down, and kneels with a frown... ...to retrieve his Metro Card which must have fallen out upon his arrival. Slipping it into his jacket pocket, he removes the Aviators, and Ianto slides on the glasses, and as he turns to go … with each step he takes... Ianto seems to transform... as he mentally gets into character.
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Ianto sits on the bus with his gaze hidden behind chrome, his face stoic, body both relaxed and taut.
.
.
We follow Ianto as he visits a Tattoo Parlor.
Ianto questions an eclectic array of shop owners... to no avail... as he finds himself descending deeper and deeper... in the dregs of the city.
Located amidst a number of chop shops and low rent restaurants and bars, he finds the building is dark, dank, and despondent. Ianto enters to approach The Owner who offers him little more than a passing glance, the wood matchstick in his mouth moving from one side of his lips to the other.
"Agent Jones." Ianto barks.
Sitting nearby, a grizzled Veteran -wearing a worn VFW cap- glances up from his dog-eared copy of GUNS OF NAVARONE, his interest piqued. Ianto flashes the badge "FBI."
He pockets it, the movement swift. As the Veteran lowers the book to listen in, we notice a number of tattoos upon his forearms, most notably one of two playing cards - a pair of ACES, one spades, the other hearts.
(Note: These are the absolute best cards to be dealt in game of SEVEN CARD STUD.)
Ianto is looking around "I'm looking for…"
"That's old." The Owner barks.
Ianto is taken aback, then "What?"
"Your ID. The badge. It's expired by about twenty years." The man sneers "And I'm pretty sure that ain't you in the picture."
A number of massive goons encroach upon their conversation. A long beat... and Ianto smiles in such a way that the owner is more than a bit taken aback.
"Who are you?" the man asks.
Ianto reaches into his jacket pocket, and as the other grow tense, they relax at the sight of a wad of hundred dollar bills. "I'm just a man... looking for a man."
"Yeah, well... you probably shouldn't flash cheese like that around here, brother."
A shadow casts over Ianto, offering us a glimpse of who he once was and -we hope- shall soon become.
"There are three kinds of people who flash cheese -as you say- like this: those who don't know better, those seeking to intimidate... and those, like me, who would really and I do mean with every ounce of my being- really like someone to try and take it from them." As Ianto moves... the veteran catches a glimpse of the tattoo on Ianto's left wrist, that of two playing cards: A Two of Diamonds and a Seven of Clubs.
(Note: These are the absolute worst cards to be dealt in a game of SEVEN CARD STUD.)
The Veteran's eyes go wide, the air sucked from his lungs.
"Buddy, you..." The Owner is still talking, trailing off abruptly -as to the surprise of everyone save Ianto- the Veteran stands, clears his throat, swallows hard with wide eyes, and offers Ianto a nod.
"Thank you for your service." The Veteran mutters before beating a hasty retreat into the back office.
Ianto nods "You, too, old-timer."
The Veteran noisily LOCKS THE DOOR BEHIND HIM.
Unsure as to what just happened there, the Owner turns his attention back to Ianto with a newfound degree of respect, albeit still begrudging. "What can I do for you?"
Ianto peels off three bills and slides them across to him "You can send me in the direction of this woman here.-before tapping a finger to one of the Polaroid photos of tattoos hanging upon his wall, this one in particular being of the ink upon the Female thief's wrist.