m_findlow

Title: Baying for blood
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack, mentions team
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Challenge 32 - Bloodthirsty at anythingdrabble
Summary: The team is confronted by the horrors of the human condition.

Jack stood in awe of the abandoned warehouse. At least it should have been abandoned, but now it was overflowing with bodies.

The noise alone was thunderous. There must have been at least three hundred people crammed in here, probably more, each of them wired and baying for blood. This underground movement that they'd stumbled upon was bigger than he expected. A whole demographic slice of Cardiff's residents were here.

He'd been to lots of underground fights. They were all the rage decades ago, a proper night out, but they'd been different, too. They'd been boxing matches, or wrestling, and it was for the spectacle of watching talented men sparring with their opponents. The gambling side of it was huge as well, and many came simply to make a few quid, and for the fighters themselves it was a way of making a living, the victor taking home a sizeable prize. He'd even partaken in one or two bouts himself.

This was nothing like those fights. Back in the days they'd been men pitted against men, showcasing their skills and agility. This was just angry young men with too much pent up energy and disposable income, driven by boredom and bloodlust. They didn't want to parry blows, they wanted to inflict pain. They came here to see if one of their own could take on the monster and survive. It was the most extreme kind of thrill seeking, but deadly dangerous as well.

What made him more irate was the fact that the weevils had been dragged into this. If these people wanted to pummel each other to a pulp then that was fine by him, but weevils, for all their nuisance value, didn't deserve this. They might be able to mount a decent defence, but their sole purpose here was to be the target, rather than the opponent.

He could feel the tension in the air, permeating the raucous cries of drunken and enraged onlookers. One false step by any of his team and the mob would turn on them.

Most of them wouldn't dare step into that cage. For all their bluster, they were too cowardly to face the weevil, but they wouldn't hesitate to swamp a couple of humans trying to put this thing to an end. Guns wouldn't help them here. The whole room felt like it stood on knife's edge.

He was about to consider their next move when a flicker of movement down below caught his eye. What the hell was Owen doing? He was walking into that cage? He of all people knew just how dangerous a weevil could be, especially one that had been threatened and harried, and driven wild by the screamed obscenities. All around him the cheers and cries went up, the crowd hungry for bloodshed. There was no way to stop them now. They'd be overrun in a heartbeat. The only way it could end now would be for Owen to beat the weevil, or be killed by it.