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m_findlowTitle: Troubling scene
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 300 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 457 - Tangled up at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
drabble_zone
drabble_zoneSummary: Jack is at the scene of an unsettling murder. A triple drabble.
Jack wondered why the hub’s systems had flagged this. It didn’t normally pick up your run of the mill murder. That was what the police were for – petty crime, lost dogs, vandalism and the occasional homicide thrown in just to sharpen their claws. It wasn't Torchwood business. Not unless aliens were the ones doing the killing.
He got out of the car and walked up to the door of the plain looking terrace. No SOCO vans, no yellow tape cordoning off the scene and not a single blue flashing light in sight. It had bypassed the police's systems completely and been diverted straight to Torchwood.
He tested the door, shut but not locked, and stepped inside. Already he could smell the coppery tang of blood, and it wasn’t long until he found the body, scrawled on the living room floor. Two shots to the head, mobster style. An execution, brutal and awful, but still not Torchwood’s problem.
Jack was ready to walk away, hand it over to the police, when one tiny detail caught his eye. The victim had something clutched in his hand. He slipped on a blue nitrile glove and tugged it from the dead man’s hand. A business card – pale grey and otherwise pristine but for a single bloody thumbprint. People who got shot in the head didn’t usually have time to leave blood-covered fingerprints. He turned it over and his own blood ran cold. In small black print the name “I. Jones” and a mobile number. Jack only ever used it on speed dial but he knew it all the same.
Jack knew better than to let baseless assumptions cloud his judgement, yet the scene was unsettling regardless.
He bagged the business card and sighed. ‘Oh, Ianto Jones, what have you got yourself tangled up in?’
Jack wondered why the hub’s systems had flagged this. It didn’t normally pick up your run of the mill murder. That was what the police were for – petty crime, lost dogs, vandalism and the occasional homicide thrown in just to sharpen their claws. It wasn't Torchwood business. Not unless aliens were the ones doing the killing.
He got out of the car and walked up to the door of the plain looking terrace. No SOCO vans, no yellow tape cordoning off the scene and not a single blue flashing light in sight. It had bypassed the police's systems completely and been diverted straight to Torchwood.
He tested the door, shut but not locked, and stepped inside. Already he could smell the coppery tang of blood, and it wasn’t long until he found the body, scrawled on the living room floor. Two shots to the head, mobster style. An execution, brutal and awful, but still not Torchwood’s problem.
Jack was ready to walk away, hand it over to the police, when one tiny detail caught his eye. The victim had something clutched in his hand. He slipped on a blue nitrile glove and tugged it from the dead man’s hand. A business card – pale grey and otherwise pristine but for a single bloody thumbprint. People who got shot in the head didn’t usually have time to leave blood-covered fingerprints. He turned it over and his own blood ran cold. In small black print the name “I. Jones” and a mobile number. Jack only ever used it on speed dial but he knew it all the same.
Jack knew better than to let baseless assumptions cloud his judgement, yet the scene was unsettling regardless.
He bagged the business card and sighed. ‘Oh, Ianto Jones, what have you got yourself tangled up in?’
no subject
Date: 2025-07-12 10:27 am (UTC)