Fans Fiction The Dark Doctor Stories - Chapter One "Laura" by Lady Mayhurst

Domina had been floating through space her whole life, or so it seemed. An eternity of darkness that was consumed soundlessly in nothing, where time and space seemingly failed to exist, where only she, within her mind existed. Her dreamlike state of semi consciousness echoed around her as the silence pulsated in her ears and seeped into the darkest corners of her mind, fracturing, splintering the little girl she used to be in an attempt to force her into womanhood and age her fast beyond her mental years.

   She was broken on the inside. Torn apart by the years she had suffered in solitude, locked in prison of unbreakable chains in a soundproof room made up of layers of dimensional fractures in time. If she screamed, the chaos it would cause would echo through the past, present and future of every dimension, dispersing itself through space and time as it rolled on forever until it could be heard no more and the threat of the nightmare child became minimal.

   She was unlike any and every other child because she was much more intelligent than all the children on Gallifrey as she was made up of something else, something not quite known.

It took some time, some training, some practice and patience in order to perform the task she set herself at the tender age of 5. It took 5 years in fact to do what her captors hoped would be impossible as they dare not imagine the pain she could bring, but she managed to train her voice, to exact her screams and concentrate them at the right tone and pitch so that it not only broke her chains as she set herself free, but burst the ear drums of those standing guard over her, and when more had come running, when the alarm had been raised, they were stopped in their tracks as they fell to the floor screaming in agony at the images flashing through their minds. Their children, their wives, their mothers, tortured, bleeding, dying in terrible agonising ways. Their minds broken by the nightmares the child forced into their heads so that she could make her escape.

   She had hidden for days. Scared and alone she secluded herself in a broken TARDIS and hoped no one would find her until she could work out what to do, but they had and she had been banished for all eternity.

   For many, many years she had been floating through space. It could be 100’s, it could be 1000’s, time had stopped and all there was, was nothing. She spent the Years hibernating, sleeping away the pain of her childhood as her body grew and changed, and as she healed herself mentally, physically the TARDIS healed itself from her touch. An incubator keeping them both alive as it fed from her, pulling her life force into its circuits, forging a bond between them so that they would become one and exist together.

   She awoke at the age of 20, when her time machine had restored itself and she was able to control herself, for when she screamed, she shook the world and she had found herself on a world she would eventually call home, a place she would find peace, knowledge and truth about her parents, a place she would not want to destroy, a new planet called Earth.

   The TARDIS materialised next to a grassy bank on a river on a very hot and humid August afternoon and disguised itself as a narrow boat to fit in with its surroundings. Domina checked the readings on the scanner and thought hard for a few moments as she tried to imagine how long she had been in exile. The year on Earth was 2594 and she had come from a year on Gallifrey that was billions of light years from that but that didn’t mean to say that was how long she had been inside the TARDIS because time spent in the time vortex could be no time at all and she wasn’t sure if Earth was in Gallifrey past, present or future.

It would be strange and exciting on the new world, and she would need to know the human race that lives here if she was to fit in unnoticed and begin her quest to find the renegade Time Lord known as The Doctor. Her TARDIS pulled her here because of the Huon particle residue from his TARDIS, but as she discovered when she had scanned the planet for him, it seemed that he hadn’t been on Earth for at least 6 years which meant she would for now, have to wait for his return.

   As she stepped out of the time machine narrow boat for the first time in what seemed forever, she blinked hard as the sun blinded her for a few moments and shaded her eyes with her hand as she moved onto the river bank to look around. Earth would take some getting used to, the blue skies and the green grass were no match for Gallifrey’s golden, red and burnt orange hues, but any planet would pale in comparison but every aspect of her life would be better from now on. She would make sure of that!

   As she decided on which direction to start walking to explore her new home, a man’s voice echoed out from the darkness of a tunnel behind her causing her to turn sharply, frowning at his words as he stepped into the light looking terrified as he glanced briefly up to the sky.

   “Laura? Is that you? I thought you’d been sent to Ordifica. What are you doing back here?”

He ran towards her, grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her back into the safety of the damp dark tunnel before she had a chance to speak, staring at him intently as his nervousness got the better of him.

   “What the hell are you doing in broad daylight, what if “they” see you?” He pointed towards the sky. “Laura, why are you here?”

   There was a roar above them so loud it made her jump and she staggered backwards, pressing herself against the cold stone wall of the tunnel. The man covered his ears and moved past her, pushing against the wall so it gave way and a door opened. He disappeared through, waiting for her to follow him and she stood and watched and wondered what to do. Go back outside, back to her TARDIS and scan whatever it was that was making that noise, or follow the man for answers, find out who he was and why he thought her name was Laura!

Fans Fiction The New Adventures of Lady C - The Early Years by S. Florence

Chapter 1

After the Doctor! 

Where do you go when you are in a flying bus? That was the question that went around and around in Christina's head as she flew the skies of London. She had just escaped the clutches of Detective Inspector Macmillan, and was now flying a number 200 route master bus to freedom! As surreal as it was, she had no time to marvel at her present situation and had to think fast. The only option was to go back home and get working on an alibi. If she got the bus moving quickly enough, she could have it done by dawn and it would be like she had never left the house that evening. There would be no proof she'd been anywhere near the International Gallery, let alone another planet, and no charges could be brought against her. Pushing the bus into top gear, she slammed her foot on the accelerator and to her relief, it shot off at high speed.

   Less than 10 minutes later she was landing a huge double decker bus on the dark but vast grounds of her home. There was no point trying to hide it, it would be visible wherever she put it so she just parked it up under the trees that ran the perimeter of her home, shielding it from public view for the time being, and decided to deal with it later, she could always claim ignorance if anyone asked, it seemed to work for most people who were caught red handed, and wondered if dyeing her hair blonde would have a better impact. Grabbing her rucksack, she jumped out of the driver’s seat and ran up to the main house calling out for assistance from her long serving butler John Cook as she went. Cook wasn't at all surprised to see her coming home so late, what had surprised him was catching a glimpse of the bus as she came in through the door.

   "I trust you had an engaging night mi'lady. Everything went according to plan?"

   Throwing her bag onto the sofa as she walked into the main living room, she flopped down next to it looking exhausted. "I wouldn't say that Cook, actually I'd say the plan failed completely and I nearly ended up in jail this time."

   Cook brought her a drink without being asked. He had worked for her long enough to know what she needed and when she needed it.  "Shall I arrange the alibi for you ma'am? There was a party at Lord Mitchell's house this evening, I can arrange for at least six guests who will testify under oath that you were there all evening, including Lord Mitchell himself. He is such a name dropper that he wouldn't know if he'd invited you or not, or if you had turned up! Having your name and title mentioned to him would be enough for him to confirm."

   She nodded and drained the glass of vodka he'd given her..."Yes, but do it now as it won't be long before Macmillan comes knocking." Cook tipped his head in agreement and left the room to make the arrangements.

   Christina rested her head back against the soft cushions of the sofa and closed her eyes. What a day it had been, definitely the strangest day of her entire life, without question. The robbery was one thing but a different Planet!!...That was something else entirely. She had actually left Earth and flown through a worm hole in time, to another world, in a double decker bus! The more she thought about it the more ridiculous it sounded and that made her laugh to herself. Who was going to believe her? Who could she tell that would even understand what she had been through today? She'd stolen a golden chalice worth tens of thousands of pounds and then watched it being hammered by a mad man to the steering wheel of the bus. She'd been attacked by alien stingrays, been on a space ship that belonged to giant flies and she had met the most wonderful man in the world! None of it seemed real now as she sat in the darkness of the living room. None of it seemed possible, yet it had happened, it had most definitely happened and she had no one to share that with. The man, "The Doctor" as he had called himself, was a traveller, but according to him travelled on his own, and when he left, she knew that she might never see him again. She couldn't recall who the other people on the bus were. The whole day had been wasted, miraculous, frightening and magical, yet here she was, back at home on the sofa alone.

   Cook re-entered the room around 20 minutes later with a tray of food and set it down on the table next to her. Picking up the remote control he turned the tv on and switched it over to the late night news.

   "Something you might be interested in m'lady."

   She opened her eyes and quickly sat up as the picture on the screen came into focus. There were news readers everywhere standing outside the entrance to the queen’s gate tunnel.

   "The air force have dismissed the claims of a flying bus, or of an attempted alien threat, and put it down to a training exercise that went wrong. They also insist that such claims are not only dangerous rumours, but the work of internet UFO enthusiasts. Torchwood representative Ianto Jones said earlier that if there had been anything remotely off world about tonight, then his team would have been the first to know about it. We interviewed UNIT who were believed to be witnesses to tonight’s events and they have recently confirmed the statement from the Air Force saying that they were asked to come out as a matter of courtesy to help dismiss the ridiculous claims. Detective Macmillan from Scotland Yard who was also present at the scene said he couldn't actually remember why he was there, and went home."

   Cook turned off the TV and went to leave the room...." If that is all for this evening, I shall retire ma'am. I don't think you'll be needing those alibi's now do you?" He smiled knowingly at her and closed the door behind him.

  

   So that was that? According to the news the whole day never happened? The problem was, that it did and as her reason for leaving the house this morning hadn't quite gone the way she had hoped so, there really was only one thing for it. She lost the chalice she had stolen, the one thing that would have gotten her out of the mess she was in, and so she would have to steal something else, and keep stealing until things were sorted. If the news, the police, the government and the Doctor were going to deny her part in today’s events, if she was to be overlooked and ignored in such a life changing matter then she would use that to her advantage. She wasn't going to hide in the shadows anymore. As from now, she was going to take back her life and live it in the best way possible. She might be prepared for everything, but was the world prepared for her?

   Christina slept well that night and for most of the next day. It was 5pm before she finally managed to rouse herself and get out of bed. The events of the previous day had obviously had more of a physical impact on her than she had realised because she felt so tired. Maybe travelling from one world to another did that to you, some kind of Intergalactic jet lag?

   Although still quite drowsy she had in her mind a plan of action about what to do next, what she would do with her life and how she would improve it. Pulling on her dressing gown she left her bedroom and headed downstairs to the kitchen to find Cook brewing some coffee and toasting a muffin for her.... funny how that man always seemed to know her needs as she was just thinking of those two things! She smiled at him and sat at the large, well worn wooden table as he placed her breakfast, in front of her.

   "You slept well m'lady? Forgive me for not waking you sooner, but I guessed with the news reports and your lack of treasures that last night didn't go as planned, and you might need some time on your own to recover and regroup!"

   She nodded gratefully at him whilst sipping the hot coffee. Her mind too preoccupied with plans to give him a direct answer. Plans that she would need to go over and over with a fine tooth comb before she put them into action. She could do that this evening in her office. She could search the internet for a list of local businesses and.....; She sighed heavily, no she couldn't, not tonight at least. Tonight, Cook was due to drive her to Kenilworth to attend a party in the large stately home of Lady Pensworth, a social butterfly of the Midlands who had known her parents for many years before they had died. It was going to be quite a noticeable party and she could start to build the de Souza reputation there as she would meet and make a lot of useful contacts. It had to be that evening as Lady Pensworth was due to leave for Germany the next morning for a planned vacation.

   She almost resigned herself to starting her new life a day later than anticipated but was interrupted by the sudden thoughts and flashes of inspiration that seared through her mind, and for several moments, she stared like a zombie into space as a plan unfolded before her eyes.

   Perhaps she could kill two birds with one stone? Maybe this would be the perfect opportunity, the perfect robbery? No one would suspect her, surely?

   More moments passed in a blur of madness as she thought more and more of the possibilities of the evening and, she left the table and gave instructions for Cook to have the car ready for 7pm. The party would be in full swing by the time she got there at 9pm, and she could work her way through the guests whilst surveying the place, checking the security and planning the job as she went along. The thought of mingling with people of such nobility whilst secretly planning to steal from them sent shivers down her spine. This was it! This was the feeling she wanted and craved for! This was the stomach churning nervousness of excitement that raged through her body as she dressed in a black evening gown, the urge not to laugh or to cry as she placed some useful items in a bag, things she would probably be needing to carry out the job....a lock pick, gloves, torch and a stop watch, all small enough to fit into the black diamante clutch bag she would carry.

   Feeling sick with excitement as she made her way down the spiral staircase to the awaiting car and checked herself in the hallway mirror before she left. Oh yes, this was it! This was the night that Lady Christina de Souza made her comeback to the world of aristocracy, and the night that The Lucky Cat, (the alter ego she had given herself) would make its entrance into the world of crime. This was her night, and she intended to see it through to the last!

  

In and out the guests she weaved, polite conversation made as eye contact dipped from one person to another, eyes flitting round the room, an alarm above the door, a panic button under a desk, staff that looked too burly to be just servers, could also be trained in combat, seven security locks on all doors, windows fitted with alarms, it was a high security place and one a little out of her reach for a first time heist, better start small, better get her reflexes and intuition sorted first and foremost. More conversation, condolences about the death of her parents, questions about the disappearance of her sister, a slight tear, and an excuse to leave the ballroom and take a few minutes to herself, an excuse to search the upstairs rooms and take what she wanted.

   Bracelets, necklaces, rings, gold, diamonds, rubies, she needed a bigger bag, but she hid them well and took whatever she could conceal. Back in the ballroom, feeling better, mingling again, polite chats, exchanges of addresses, invites to more parties, more chances to steal, more chances to make contacts and take these stuck up suckers for all they were worth. Oh, they could say they were sorry about her parents dying, but where were they when it had happened? When she and her home needed saving, when at the age of 24, she had been called home to take on the debts of her father’s estate and face the persecution and prosecution he had left her with. They all turned their backs and refused to help, so now she would help herself!

Extract from the London Daily Newspaper

"Thieves steal a selection of valuable jewellery from Kenilworth home."

Police are investigating a burglary in Kenilworth in which a car and a number of valuable items were stolen. The burglary occurred sometime last night during a party hosted by lady Pensworth, the founder of the Midlands heritage charity who's fundraising allows for historic places of interest to be rebuilt and maintained.

Lady Pensworth was hoping to raise awareness for her charity at last night’s event which saw a guest list that boasted many famous and influential names. Instead she had to cancel plans to travel overseas this morning, to answer police questions whilst they investigated the crime.

   The thieves apparently entered the property through an open kitchen window and searched through many of the stately homes rooms whilst the party was in full swing. stealing items worth several thousands of pounds. There were no clues and as yet, no evidence to work on.

   Officers investigating the incident would like to hear from anyone who was in the vicinity of Fieldgate Lane in the hours leading up to 2am and saw any suspicious activity.

   Police wanted to question every guest at the party but Lady Pensworth refused stating that she was positive that no one she had invited into her home would do such a terrible thing.

   "This was not just any party, this was "The party".......She said in a public statement to the press, early this morning......."I can assure you that among the carefully screened guest list of, Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen of the aristocracy that I did not invite a common criminal into my home. This was obviously a chance robbery and I have no illusions that I will be seeing my valuables again!"

   Anyone with information about this or any other crime is asked to contact Warwickshire Police on 01926 415000 or Crimestoppers anonymously on 0800 555111.

   Christina folded the paper and placed it on her lap smiling. Looking over to the bag on her dressing table chair, she lay back down in bed and snuggled under the warmth of the duvet, closing her eyes she began plotting her next heist.

   She spent the rest of the week sorting through the collection of Jewellery she'd stolen from Lady Pensworth's house. There were quite a few items that looked as though they could be worth a bit of money, but to be absolutely sure that she wasn't going to be wasting her time or exposing herself to the criminal underworld for nothing, she decided to dig out her father’s old gold testing kit. She had seen him use it several times in the past when she was growing up, to authenticate pieces he had brought or had been given, and it was now packed away in the cellar with the rest of her parents things, things she didn't want to part with just yet.

   Making her way through the old-fashioned kitchen, she pulled opened a large heavy wooden door that revealed several stone steps leading downwards to the very bottom of the Manor. The coldness of the stale air hit her lungs as she trod carefully past empty dusty wine bottles, worn boxes stacked in cobwebbed corners and broken bricks which had fallen from the dilapidated walls of a building that had not been loved in a very long time. Finding the light switch as she ran her hand down the cold damp wall, she flicked it on and shuddered as a dim light filled the area.

She didn't come down here much, there wasn't really much point as what was stored here wasn't needed anymore, but when she did, she always had the feeling that there was more to the room than what she could see. It was almost like something was hidden, but she could sense it, feel its presence even though she couldn't see anything beyond the cold stone walls.

She quickly grabbed the box she was after, a blue box file labelled "FdS", and hurried back up the steps to the warm comforting glow of the kitchen and placed the box on the table, where she carefully opened it and found more than she was looking for.

   Inside, under the gold testing kit was a small note book containing a list of names and numbers. Reading through them she recognised some as friends of her fathers, people he had associated with over the years for business matters, but this wasn't a phone book as the names were not listed next to an address or company name. It looked to Christina like it was a book of contacts as next to each name and number was a word and a maximum price. For example: James Wentworth - 18crt Gold - max £8000. M. Carter. - Gold and opals. max - £30,000. There was also a list of names written in red with a cross next to each one. She assumed that these must be people not to deal with, maybe they had bad reputations or didn't pay the full asking price for things?

   Tapping the book against her chin as she leant on the kitchen table, she smiled coyly to herself. This was exactly what she needed, a list of contacts willing to buy the gold she had acquired. Packing everything away back in the box, she took it to her office to get started.

Several hours passed as Christina sat in the small hot office reading through the instructions on how to use the kit properly. It wasn't as easy as she had hoped it would be and using acidic elements in the hot weather was beginning to irritate her eyes and skin, and so deciding enough was enough, she left the Manor and went for a stroll in the sun to clear her head and fill her lungs with something less toxic.

   Her mind wandered in and out and her thoughts flipped from one thing to another as it had been doing for several days now. Planets with 3 suns, stingrays, buses, stealing, a skinny man in a suit who claimed to be an alien!.....it was no wonder that she hadn't paid much attention to where she was going and she was quite surprised to find that she had wandered into town. Stopping suddenly to get her bearings, she found she was staring mindlessly through the window of an old high street Jewellers and almost immediately something caught her eye. What looked like an 18th century 24ct gold locket, sparkled at her in the sunlight behind the dusty glass. It stood proudly on its display stand, standing out from the rest of the items that were for sale. The more she stared, the more transfixed she became and almost instantly as if it had always been part of her, as if some hereditary gene had suddenly activated, she hatched a plan to steal it right there and then, and without a second thought, almost hypnotised by the adrenalin rush that had started to build, she pushed open the door and walked into the shop.

   The Jeweller greeted her by name having known the family for years, and proceeded to show her some of his finest pieces to which she gracefully declined asking instead to be shown a diamond encrusted bracelet that was advertised in the brochure and kept in the safe. Nodding in agreement he obliged and walked through the dividing curtain and into the back of the shop after asking her to please be seated. She sat down and crossed her legs with a smile and continued to browse through the brochure.

Immediately as he disappeared, she jumped up and pulled on some slim black gloves and removed a small lockpicking device she kept on her key chain, from her pocket and casually walked over to the display window and started working on the lock.

   "Do you want both sizes Lady Christina?"...came the call from the back of the shop

   "I most definitely would!” She called back with a smirk on her face as the lock became free. Carefully sliding open the glass door and slipping her hand inside, she picked up the locket. She then moved a few pieces about to disguise the gap that had been left in order not to bring it to notice to soon and slid the door shut. Re-locking it she pulled off her gloves, pulling the locket inside them at the same time and put them and the Lock picker back in her pocket and sat back down on the chair. Crossing her legs, she took up reading the Brochure once again just as the Jeweller came back through the curtain and into the shop.

   She looked up at him smiling sweetly as he placed both bracelets on a velvet cushion on the counter. She Ummm'ed and Ahhh'ed and politely told him that they were not what she was looking for, and left.

   Hurrying out of the shop, heart pounding in her chest she walked quickly along the busy street and turned a corner, out of sight. Was it that easy? Had she really just stolen something in broad daylight and got away with it?

   The adrenalin surged through her as she struggled to keep herself calm. Many people in the town knew her and the last thing she wanted was for them to see her acting this way and put two and two together when news of the theft got out. Being present at two robberies a few days apart might arouse suspicion and get the cops asking her questions. She counted to ten, took several deep breaths and then merged back into the flow of people walking along the street going about her business. Putting her hands in her pockets she nearly burst out laughing as she felt the locket and quickly made her way back home.

   Back at the Manor and back in her office she gratefully flopped into her chair, glad to be sitting down before her legs gave way and she fell down. The last two thefts had been planned, she had known what she was going to do and had gone over it several times in her mind before hand, this was something else. Stealing on impulse was not only dangerous but a little too exciting. She'd nearly fainted with nerves, had felt light headed and sick but compelled to take the item she had seen. This was not the way to go she told herself. If she didn't do this properly then what she had done so far would be for nothing.

   Removing the locket, she held it up before her and watched it twirl around on its chain, catching the light as the small diamonds fell into the rays on sunlight pouring in through the small office window. It was pretty though and if her amateur guess at what it was, was indeed correct, it would be worth in the region of £500. That would be enough to get the boiler fixed at least. The rest of the gold she had estimated was probably worth between £6-£9000. If she could convince her father’s old contacts to buy from her that would get the heating sorted, repair the roof and probably refit the kitchen to a more hygienic standard. This was the reason after all that she was doing all this. Step 2 in rebuilding the family reputation was to fix up the de Souza Manor and make it fit for a Lady to live in.

There were 10 names in all on the list and so taking a deep breath, she started from the top, a name she at least recognised, and dialled the number. It rang several times before it clicked when answered and a deep voice spoke to her from the other end of the line...

   "Hello, Mike speaking!"

   "Hello, is that Michael Winchester?"

   "Yes, it is, who's calling, please?"

   "It's Lady Christina de Souza, Lord Felipe's daughter. I was hoping to speak to you about some business, the sort you and my father used to talk about?" 

   A few pleasantries were exchanged along with the passing of condolences on the death of her parents, followed by a short trip down memory lane that Christina had come to expect when talking to friends of her parents. Within a few minutes though she managed to steer him back onto the conversation of buying the gold she had stolen and when he showed a keen interest in her list of items, she talked him round into negotiating a price with him. It wasn't as hard as she had imagined but it was every bit as nerve wracking as she had thought. He could have laughed at her and scoffed at her amateur selling technique, or refused to confirm he was in that business at all, and for the first time in her life, Christina gained an insight into her father’s lifestyle before he died.

   "I take it you have acquired these goods in the same way your father did? Ask no questions and get it for a cut of the selling price?"

   "Well let's just say that I don't exactly have receipts for everything and leave it at that shall we?"

   He had laughed heavily down the phone. "You're your father's daughter alright, he would have been damned proud that his daughter was following the family tradition."

   She wasn't sure she should be proud of what she was doing, nor should she be congratulated for it. It was a means to an end and a short one at that. As soon as she had made enough to fix the Manor back up enough to earn its title back and re-established herself back into high society, she would stop and do things legally.

   They agreed a price that Christina found most pleasing and Winchester told her to expect a courier the next morning to collect the gold and pass on the money which would be cash as cheques were too traceable, and that was it!

She'd done it!

   Not only that, but Winchester had also given her a few more names that she would find useful. One for the locket and another, a man called Henry J. Lawler. He only dealt in original art work, paintings from famous artists that hung in galleries around the world. If she was interested in making some serious money then this was the man to call.

   Hanging up the phone, she decided that call him, she would!

Fans Fiction Mitchell: Return to the Fold by DJ Forrest

Chapter One

Gwen Cooper was having a really bad morning. It began with the flashing red blip on her computer screen. It was also flashing on Jack’s in his office. Jack, as she knew it, was still somewhere off planet, and as much as she hoped he was safe, right now, she really wished he was here. With her. In this office.

   Red blips as they were used to regarding them as, and often raised excitement in Toshiko’s eyes, were not something that Gwen regarded with joy. Red blips signified trouble. It had been weeks since Mitchell and Clark had returned from wherever they’d been. Neither of them had talked about the incidents onboard the battlecruiser. Least of all Goodson. Gwen glanced towards his vacant desk and sighed heavily. She’d need to call in. See how he was. Pick up any groceries. Give a reassuring smile. No longer military. No longer sure of his role within Torchwood. No longer capable of believing the words from anyone who knew him, Clark Goodson had locked himself away in his flat, and cut communications with everyone. Everyone that is except Gwen Cooper. Somehow, her face seemed to bring a radiance of light into his life. It just wasn’t enough to convince him, that he belonged anywhere in the world. He’d been used. Manipulated. He was tired of it all.

   Marley was busy at her desk, analysing the same Rift patterns since the return of the two boys. It was, if anything, a distraction. It took her mind off the questions that were building and the stabbing pains behind her eyes. Every now and then Gwen sensed that Marley would eventually ask that one question she wouldn’t be able to answer.

   The phone rang. It was Andy.

   ‘I thought you might be interested in a case. I could do with a bit of help, to be honest.’

   It hadn’t taken much encouragement to get her out of the building. Several mauled bodies lay across an open space of flooring in ‘Long Stop Over’ fast food restaurant in Splott. A cleaner had discovered them at the start of her shift. She sat in the back of the ambulance, wrapped in a blanket, face drawn and pale.

   ‘I called you, because…well, look at them.’ Andy pointed. ‘Those aren’t human teeth marks on that body, or that one, and those…’

   Gwen noticed how much paler Andy was, and she couldn’t blame him. The smell of blood and body juices was sour on the nose and at the back of her throat.

   ‘Can you not open a window?’ She glanced about the room at the large bay windows, the décor sprayed with blood from floor to tiled ceiling. A mural of modern art that would be snapped up in a gallery. All windows displayed no openings.

   Gwen studied the bodies. All of them wore the logo of the company. ‘How did the attacker get in?’

   ‘The back door was wide open. Traces of blood led out that way. We’ve got foot prints. A lot of them. Which is why I called you.’ Andy led her through to the kitchen area. A set of red paw prints decorated the once washed floor. They led outside into the back yard where overturned bins scattered torn open black bin bags, that lay on the concrete ground.        

   ‘I’ve put a call out for escaped lions and big cats in general and wolves but…not heard back as of yet.’

   At the mention of wolves, Gwen looked up. She pulled her phone from her pocket and called Marley.

   ‘I need you to focus your attention on that blip reading. Need to know where it is. Call me when you find it.’

Gwen pocketed her phone. ‘Andy, I need to ask a favour.’

Mitchell Harkness balanced nimbly on the overhanging branch of the oak tree, twenty feet off the ground. Below him, unaware of his presence stood a muntjac deer. Its short stubby horns close to its head, not yet fully grown, it’s tight coarse hair bristling in the breeze, it ate quietly, one ear twitching, picking up the sounds around it. Now and then it lifted its head as it ate. It sensed that it wasn’t alone. For the past few weeks, many of its eating places had been overshadowed by human voices. It had grown used to them. But there was something else drifting on the wind. A new scent. Suddenly without warning, it bolted for the woods.

   Mitchell sighed and lowered his head. He sat down on the branch, legs swinging below and tilted his head at an angle towards the long meadow grass swaying in the gentle breeze.

   ‘I almost had it.’ He yelled towards the long grass.

   ‘You were dawdling.’ A voice yelled back. An old voice. As old as the meadow.

   ‘I needed to get the angle right. She would have speared me with her horns.’

   ‘You hesitated. She sensed that.’ An old man, with white hair and a grey muzzle straightened up,hands on hips, looked towards the young man in the tree. ‘Don’t think I don’t know why you’re not wanting to attack her.’

   ‘She’s done nothing to hurt me. Why would I want to hurt her?’

   ‘It’s the way of the warrior. You don’t know when you might need to learn survival skills.’

   ‘I’ve got by up till now on my instincts.’  Mitchell jumped down from the branch and dusted the lichen from his pants.

   ‘You can’t always guarantee that there will be fast food restaurants on every street corner. If you’re out in the wilds, you can’t rely on modern establishments to feed you. You have to be able to fend for yourself.’

   ‘I’m not hungry enough to eat deer.’

   ‘You weren’t hungry for rabbit either.’ The old man narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you hungry for?’

   ‘Chips.’ Mitchell looked to his old carer hopefully. ‘Come on, Greer. I’ve been out here for a week now, and none of this makes any sense. I’m not like Wolf. I’m not like my father. I’m not who you think I am. This is not going to save my life.’

   Greer’s eyes narrowed. He cuffed the boy across the head, taking Mitchell by surprise. His voice commanded authority and he growled angrily at the boy.

   ‘You have no idea how much danger you will be in without my training. Do you think Jack Harkness will protect you when Caleb demands you back in the fold? No. Jack Harkness is a coward. He will always run at the sign of trouble. He has no courage in him unlike your father. A proud and honourable man. You will do well to remember that. Now get up and give me two laps around this field. Move.’ Greer roared.

Mitchell fell onto his bed that evening, exhausted. He had little energy to shower, or to eat. He heard his phone buzzing like an erratic bumble bee trapped in a box and reached for it on the bedside cabinet. There were several missed calls. All from Marley.

   He switched on the shower and pulled up the blind in the bathroom, opening the window a touch. He locked the door for privacy and called Marley, waiting on her answer. It was good hearing her voice. He smiled. She didn’t have to do anything, but she lit a candle in his heart, and he would do anything for her.

   ‘Hey, where were you, I’ve been calling for ages?’ Her broad accent a welcome break from the grating old man voice of Greer.

   ‘I’m safe.’ He replied. A familiar tone of ‘don’t ask’ wearing thin around the edges.

   ‘Is it raining?’

   ‘What do you want, Marley?’ He sighed.

   ‘We’ve detected a low level signal of activity in a Scottish settlement, that we’re going to need to check out. Scotland, Mitch. If we wrap this up quick enough, I could take the train and meet mum and dad.’ She sounded happy. For once in her life so far, she felt a glimmer of hope and Mitchell was going to destroy it in one word.

   ‘No!’ His voice boomed around the small bathroom.

   ‘Are you alright up there, son?’ Old Greer called from the bottom of the stairs.

   ‘Yeah, dropped the soap. Sorry.’

   Even now he could picture Marley grinning. He’d given up his location.

   ‘You can’t go to see them, what if she’s there.’

   ‘Then I’ll go when she’s not. Mitch, I don’t have to physically touch them to see them. I just…’ he heard her voice break. He pictured tears welling, and emotions of a family she knew she’d never ever see again, and an alternate family there in Glasgow, and she so badly wanted her Mum to wrap her arms around her and tell her everything was going to be OK.

   ‘I’ll call you back in a few minutes. I need to get dressed.’

It was more than a few minutes by the time Mitchell had showered and dressed and in his room pulling on a pair of sneakers. He felt invigorated after the shower. He called her again.

   ‘Where are you?’ He asked.

   ‘Pulling up outside your safe house.’ She replied.

Mitchell’s blood ran cold.

   ‘What? No. Stay in the car. Do not get out.’ Grabbing a few essentials, he opened his window and escaped into the night.

   Marley sat in the car for a few minutes before switching off the engine.

   ‘Yeah right. Like that’s going to happen.’

Marley stood outside the quiet, unassuming cottage just on the outskirts of the derelict military training ground that had been closed since the early 90s for a new housing scheme, which never happened because of funding issues. It was now a haven for flora and fauna. The house needed a fresh lick of paint, its garden tidying up but it was a safe house, and Torchwood, she knew wouldn’t want to draw attention to a decorated dwelling sticking out like a sore thumb against a wilderness backdrop.

   The front of the house was in complete darkness. She caught brief flickers of torchlight at the back of the house. Instinct had taught her to be on her guard at all times. Torchwood had taught her to keep her wits about her. Never leave doubt room to move. She removed her gun from her shoulder holster and removed the safety. The light of the moon shone brightly against the house and grounds, allowing her safe passage around the building. She crept stealthily towards the back door, hidden from view by the hawthorn hedge that wrapped its way around half the garden, a metal fence the rest of the way.

   The back door sat open and a foul acrid stench drifted out into the night air. It caught at the back of her throat. She took a step back, contemplating her next move. It should have been to call Gwen. She didn’t.

   The torchlight in the back room went off.

Gwen sat sipping a cup of coffee in an all night café. The table was covered in photographs and details of each lay beside them. Andy sat opposite, an empty plate and a fresh coffee beside him. The photographs of mutilated bodies with their throats ripped out and gored flesh made him wish he’d not asked for a bacon sandwich with ketchup – but it had been a long shift, and he doubted very much that he’d be leaving any time soon. Lunch seemed such a long time ago.

   ‘So, what do you think it is, Gwen? Are we looking at animal or alien?’

   ‘I don’t know, Andy.’ She splayed her hand out to match the score marks on a particular photo. It did look like it could be an animal but it seemed too random, too frenzied.

   ‘Only we’ve run a check on escaped circus animals and zoos nearby and nobody has come back to us about a missing lion or bear. Not that we get many lions or bears released into the wild…unless you class the black cat on Bodmin moor.’

   ‘That’s just a hoax Andy, to drum up business.’

   ‘So, it could be alien then? Or…’ he studied her hand against the photo. ‘Werewolves?’

   ‘Don’t be daft Andy and keep your voice down.’ She frowned. ‘It could be Weevils. They attack at random. Although, there’s not been any sightings of them in years. We thought after the Rift closed up that they disappeared with it. If it is them though, we need to know what’s brought them to the surface again.’ She gathered the papers and slipped them back into their folders.

   ‘I’ll need copies of these, Andy.’ She pushed the files towards him. He pushed them back.

   ‘They’re yours. I took copies for myself. Nobody is sure what made these, and to be honest, we could do with some outside help.’

   She smiled gratefully and laughed. ‘You’re one of the team, Andy. Thank you.’

He smiled. Finally, Torchwood were letting him in.

   ‘No.’ Gwen stopped his daydreams dead.

   ‘Oh, but…’

   ‘If this is Weevils, you need special training to handle them, and I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt. You understand. It’s not something you’d be able to write up in a report and be believed by your team. We see this every day, Andy, and we have the tools to deal.’

   ‘So, I’m just your tea and bacon butty man, with files of unsolved murders?’

   ‘Yeah, something like that.’ She laughed.

   ‘Right then. That’s me told. I’ll be off.’ He grated his seat back and pushed it back under the table. ‘Find who is doing this, Gwen, if I can’t be there. Be careful.’

   Gwen watched him go as she drained her mug of coffee. She said good night to the café owner and went to her car, parked outside. There was an angry sky above her. A storm was coming. By about now on any other night, Jack would send her a text. Something was coming. They’d be in the Hub, with Jubilee pizzas and the team would work together to find the culprits and end their games. Now. Now it was just Gwen, a silly girl from an alternate universe, a young Welshman who was suffering a mental breakdown, and a wolf boy who could be Jack’s son, and Jack, wherever the hell he was now.

   Gwen climbed into her car as her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Rhys. They were out of milk.

Mitchell, back pack on, ran hell for leather through the heavily wooded forest. Low branches reached down to him as he leapt over exposed roots and shallow ditches. His heart pounded against his chest. His legs screamed to ease up. Still he ran on. He had no need of a torch. He knew the lay of the land, he’d ran it often enough.

Marley was already too far from her parked car to make a run for it. She’d weighed up her chances of survival. She contemplated calling Gwen but the voice on the end of the phone would belittle her to the point that Marley would hang up and go it alone. She was merely cutting out the middle man, or woman.

   ‘Come on Marley, toughen up old girl. You’re Torchwood. Geoff would go in.’ Except in like Flynn Geoff was already dead. Dead from Elvis the tufty haired crocodile. He’d let his guard down. He’d put them both in danger. She was not like Geoff. She was Marley Hanratty and she was Torchwood. Fumbling nervously for her Maglite torch, she switched it on and entered the darkened building, her heart in her throat.

The porch entrance gave way to a short hallway with rooms on either side. Dust spores floated in the light of the torch as she edged her way inside, gun ahead of her, light fixed to the gun for added measure. Bloody finger streaks smeared the walls ahead of her. It told a story of desperate futile hopes of escape. Bloodied hand prints, clinging to door frames in a bid to evade full capture. Splayed blood patterns from wall to ceiling, pooling on the ground where a body lay mauled. The body itself indistinguishable. She couldn’t identify male from female.

   Quick movements of the torch around each room showed nothing but a bloodied mess and foul odour but the strongest was coming from the main living quarters. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her eyes nipped from the stinging aroma of death. The stench of blood and body juices clung to the back of her throat. She was going to throw up. She swallowed, pushing back the bile and her sausage roll from earlier and the quarter of a pound of Midget Gems she’d worked through in the car. She had to see this through. She had to find Mitchell safe.

   She made her way to the small kitchen and stifled a scream. Lying in the doorway, wearing a military great coat, was a heavily mauled body of a man. His face was disfigured but he was the size and shape of Captain Jack Harkness. Tears pricked her eyes. She knelt beside the body lying prone on the ground and felt for a pulse. There was none.

   A trickle of memory caught her by surprise. She knew these markings. She’d seen them before. Back in her old life. Geoff, Geordie, that girl with the Swedish name she couldn’t pronounce and called her Dahlia for short. They had found a mansion of grizzly murders. Unfathomable to the local police squad. Torchwood had an inkling of its merit. Torchwood knew most of the murders and murderers. This one. This one had stumped even them.

   ‘It’s not weevils.’ Geoff had said. Knowledgeable beyond measure. Geoff had even proved that fact.

   ‘How many fingers do weevils have?’

   It couldn’t be the same. An alternate universe would have the flip side of this reality. If it wasn’t Weevils in the last, perhaps it was in this, but Geoff was correct about the fingers. She shone her torch at the score marks on the walls.

   ‘It’s not Weevil.’ She croaked.

   She made her way cautiously towards the living quarters, shining her torch this way and that, detecting blood splatters on walls and dripping from ceiling. She was nearing the lair. She could taste it in her mouth. It was warmer in the centre of the building. Her foot connected with another body. She froze. This one groaned. Shining her torch at the body at her feet she was horrified to discover an old man, blood spatters on his clothing, but he was sleeping, blinking only from the glare of light in his eyes. She felt warm breath against her neck and froze. Someone else was in the room with her. Someone a little taller. His acrid breath as sour as the bodies on the ground.

   ‘Who do we have here then, walking so freely into our den?’ It growled in a deep gruff voice, full of menace.

   ‘Den?’ Marley was wracked with a painful understanding of just what she’d walked into. She felt a warmth down the inside of her right leg hurried to her shoes.

   ‘You’re trespassing on private property. I need you to leave.’ Marley spoke, struggling to maintain an air of authority. She was trembling.

   ‘The door was open. It seemed a fair invite. And you’re a long way from home, doll.’ He chuckled darkly as he circled her. The body at her feet continued to snore.

   ‘You’re Scottish?’

   ‘Aye, is that a crime?’

   ‘No. Why so far South?’

   ‘A change of scenery. I was looking for someone.’

   ‘Looks like you found them.’ Marley swallowed back her sick for a second time.

   ‘Trespassers. Homeless. Those looking for a bed and breakfast. They got their bed, and I got breakfast. Dinner. And supper.’ He growled, his whiskery cheek brushed against hers.

   ‘Who are you?’

   ‘Death.’

   She gasped as his cold wet nose touched her ear. She yelled out in fright, loosening off a round from her pistol that went wide and clipped a chunk of plasterboard along the corridor. Marley herself lost her footing and fell, dropping the torch in the process. Her gun clattered to the floor as hard as her hand and she yelled in pain.

  

   As if by magic, all the lights in the house flicked on at the same time, illuminating the entire living quarters, showing Marley the devastation at her feet. A radio played in the kitchen, a tinny noise barely blanketing any emotion that would swallow up the bloodbath in the lounge.

   Marley stared in horror at the wolf man before her, blinking at the strong blinding light that had hit him so hard, unable to fully adjust. He was part male and part wolf. His long clawed fingers had identified him as the killer of all those people she had seen in the folders back home, and were currently in a folder on Gwen Cooper’s kitchen table, where Gwen herself pored over them, trying to match them against Weevil attacks. Laptop on and photographs random creatures that could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that a weevil could not have done it.

   Marley had found the killer. The killer had found Marley. Marley would not live to tell the tale. She felt as helpless as the victims that lay at her feet. She would never be found. Never be identified. Would never feel the love of another against her. Would never get to see her Mum and Dad, or the new Mum and Dad she wanted to meet. All of this had been for nothing. She was going to die in an empty safe house, where one of these bodies could be Mitchell.

   Tears fell, like the rain hammering the windows. She was done for.

The older of the two wolf men got slowly to his feet. He saw the terrified young woman on the ground and the young male, claws trained ready to rip her throat out.

   ‘Time to die, hen.’ He leered.

   ‘No! Stop! No more!’ The old man yelled. ‘There’s been enough death.’

   ‘She’s seen us. She risks our identity.’

   ‘You’ve risked our identity since we came here. You’re the one they’re all looking for. Low profile Caleb ordered. You could destroy us all.’

   ‘If I kill her, nobody needs to worry. We kill all those who come here.’

   ‘No more.’

   Marley saw the younger man’s shoulders sag. He turned to the older wolfman and nodded. ‘Alright, have it your way, Kayiler’ The old man smiled.

   ‘Good, now just…’ Before he could utter another word, he was overpowered by the younger wolfman and lay unconscious on the ground, a large gaping wound in his left flank.

   In the kafuffle Marley reached for her gun, as the young wolfman straightened up, she fired a shot into his right flank, and three in his chest. He was taken completely by surprise. Staggering back, he was momentarily winded. It did little good.

   ‘Shit….Shit.; Marley cried.

High above, crouched on the balustrade, Mitchell watched the scene unfold below him. He’d only read about the wolf men in Greer’s history books, hand written and handed down through generations, Greer’s books were a masterpiece – and every word was true.

   Caleb had sent scouts to find Mitchell and bring him back into the fold, and Greer, just like Wolf, had been his guardians, to protect him from that, to train him, and ready him for the moment when everything changed, and he had to be ready.

   Kayiler and Swiftbone had been sent as scouts to bring back the young ‘prince’ to be the new heir of the tribe. Swiftbone was the second in command and by rights, the new heir. He knew the tribe as well as all the rest of the pack but he showed little grace or sincerity that would ensure their safety, and he was impatient, and that would cost him dearly.

Kayiler, according to the stories by Greer, was the old tribal member, there to shepherd the younger wolf, to teach him of the old ways. He had obviously failed, and when they returned to the settlement, Caleb would punish him.

   Marley meant the world to him, but at this moment in time, she was the spanner in the works, and ideally, if she was dead, their identity would go unnoticed. They would disappear as quickly as they came. But this was Marley. This was a death he couldn’t have on his conscience. Swiftbone had to be stopped.

   He watched as the wolf man came into view and threw himself off the balustrade, landing on the back of the young man, bringing him to his knees. He tossed a small hand held black box towards Marley.

   ‘Open the box Marley. You can kill him with these. Do it!’ Mitchell yelled before raining down punches that knocked the wind out of the wolf man’s sails. It wasn’t long before Swiftbone regained his composure and fought back, snapping and snarling and throwing clawed fists towards the young male assailant.

The shock of the weight on his back knocked the wind from his sails and his anger into overdrive.

   Kayiler opened his eyes. He felt groggy from the assault, and a pain lingered against his thigh. He saw the girl, horrified and overwhelmed by all she saw, and the black box with a silver bullet lying beside it. His eyes widened.

   Swiftbone and Mitchell crashed over furnishings and fixtures and fittings. Mitchell ducked and dodged every blow but landed several against the riled wolf man.

   Marley trembled as she removed the magazine from its housing. She was going into shock. Her teeth chattered and tears streaked her cheeks. She hadn’t noticed the old man move from his position. Hadn’t seen him until it was too late, and his ‘human’ hands closed over hers and the gun in her possession. Their eyes met and for a faint moment, she saw a hope in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. He took the gun from her, fed the bullets into the magazine and clicked it back into its housing.

   As Swiftbone focused on the boy now pinned against the ground, his right hand claws outstretched, he stopped. Before him lay the prince and he laughed. He called over to the older man.

   ‘Hey, we’ve found him.’ He got to his feet, stepping away from the boy and turned to face Kayiler. To his horror he found him standing beside the girl, a gun in his hand, pointed directly at the younger wolfman.

   ‘Hey, what are you…?’

   ‘It’s over.’ He pumped three rounds into Swiftbone’s chest and saw him fall. He was dead and human again by the time his body hit the ground.

Silence fell across the room. After a few moments, Kayiler called to Mitchell.

   ‘You can get up now. It’s over.’

   ‘Says you with the gun in your hand. Marley?’

   ‘She’s safe. I won’t shoot you. You are Porlicanthus’s boy. Your father was a great warrior and friend. Stand up and let me see you properly.’

   Mitchell rose to his feet, wiping his hands on the back of his trousers.

   ‘How did you know we were here?’ Kayiler asked after a while.

   ‘Greer. He was getting agitated. Said my time was coming and I needed to train. He looked scared.’

   ‘Greer is still alive?’

   ‘Yeah.’

   ‘Greer is my brother. I haven’t seen him in years. Not since the division. Caleb wanted loyalty. Greer wasn’t as committed. To be honest, many of us weren’t. Caleb had no vision of its survival through the dark times. Too many youngsters to control, to brain wash.’

   ‘So why does he want me?’

   ‘You’re the son of a great warrior. His son. Caleb realises that young blood will only work with young blood as its leader. You are destined to be the leader of a great pack and we need you on board.’

   ‘I’m not a wolf.’

   ‘You are Porlicanthus’ son. In you is the will to survive and hunt and be the strong warrior leader we need. You have to come back with me.’

   ‘No, I don’t. I’m part of Torchwood now. This is where I need to be. You can’t force me to come with you.’

   ‘He can, Mitch.’ Marley replied, trembling still. ‘He’s still got the gun.’

   ‘We need to leave now before daylight. You turn 25 in less than 48 hours. And you have initiation into the fold. I saw you brought transport.’ He threw the question to Marley. ‘You need to drive us to Scotland. Now.’ He pointed the gun directly at Marley’s head. ‘I’m not afraid of death. Are you?’

   ‘OK. But we have to make a detour first.’

   ‘NO. I forbid it.’

   ‘Then she dies, and you’ll have to kill me, because I will not go until we’ve been to Glasgow, and Marley says goodbye to her parents. Is that clear?’