Bladesinger series single shots and randoms

Summary

This is where I'll be putting my small stories and random brain farts in the bladesinger series.

Genre:
Scifi
Author:
Joanne Jones
Status:
Ongoing
Chapters:
5
Rating:
n/a
Age Rating:
18+

Chapter 1

The dripping water seemed far away. He wondered if he should add it to the list of things to fix in the hub.

Like the ticking of the stopwatch, drip. Drip. Drip. Bloody floor was wet and it had soaked into the cuffs of his trousers. His socks were cold, wet too and his feet were numb.

It did seem a bit cold! Damn, the hub heating must have gone out again. Seemed like once a week that bloody furnace went out. Something else added to the to do list now.

A noise next to him lifted his level of consciousness and he recognised sobbing. Opening one eye he winced at the sudden brightness of the room. Gwen.

She sat on the floor next to him with Jack's coat around her like a cloak. When had she snavelled that? That had been up in Jack's office when this started and he felt a prickle of annoyance that she had it now. Typical. When the shit hits the fan Gwen hits on Jack, or failing that his coat.

He loved the smell of that coat. He often stood with his nose buried in the fabric, smelling his lover's unique scent in the stitches as much a part of the coat as the buttons and he hated the way her sickly sweet perfume overpowered his.

She noticed his gaze and flicked her eyes up, behind him. Recognising the warning he closed his eyes again. The footsteps neared and he knew playing possum was not gonna cut it. Thanks Gwen.

"Is he awake yet?" a voice growled, and he felt himself being roughly dragged to his feet.

"Leave him alone" Gwen screamed as a fist slammed into his stomach.

He fell to his knees and he glanced to his left. Owen lay in the corner with Tosh silently hugging him to her. He seemed to be alive if the low mutters of doom were anything to go by. OK, not too bad then. Both were blood free, so only he seemed to be pissing them off to the level of violence shown. Typical, he was the one on the ground bleeding. Again!

"We just want the Zelion Tech. We know it's here!" the guy growled again and he sighed.

Halitosis. Did you know that was not just a conversation killer but also probably reasons for divorce? He made a decision to google that later. Divorce due to Halitosis. Had to be a case for it.

Huh? Why had he thought that? Ah, a ring on the thug's finger. Eww! Mental image! Baboons rutting … or maybe gorillas in the fog. He swallowed a hysterical giggle that Owen seemed to pick up on and his muttering rose in volume to full voiced insults.

Good old Owen, loyal to the last snipe. He grinned at Owen and they both nodded as Owen began a new tirade that attracted both Neanderthals. He lay down with a groan of relief and tried to control his breathing.

Tosh made a small squeak as one of the men reached for Owen, finally sick of the medic's acid tongue. He tried to speak but found that power was not quite restored yet so he could only watch as the blade slid from its sheath to wobble threateningly at Owen's eye socket.

Shit, not good! He made a noise in his throat as he wracked his brain for a witty comment that might gain Neanderthal two's attention back from Owen.

A thump outside of the room brought all motion inside the room to a halt as they listened intently to the commotion up top.

A scream filtered down. Long and desperate with the thin tapering at the end that always signified death. He felt his chest hitch as fear slipped up his spine and Tosh met his gaze with a small smile of reassurance.

Another scream rent the air, closer this time and footsteps, running and gunshots could now be recognised above the screaming. He hoped whoever it was would either loose consciousness or fucking die soon, the noise was muffling too much activity.

The screaming stopped.

Like someone had pulled the plug on a duke box, it was sudden and complete. Silence reined.

Neanderthal one looked over at Neanderthal two and they both shrugged in confusion.

New screaming. Louder, deeper and more desperate. Probably a gut wound. Grunting, dragging and whimpering noises outside the door made Neanderthal Two back away from the door and look at Neanderthal One with real fear.

Owen started to laugh. Low and giggly with an almost hysterical bent as he watched the two Neanderthals silently converse.

Gwen had pulled him back by her and they both lent against the wall watching Owen giggle on his hands and knees, busy watching the two idiots. Tosh frowned at Owen and then looked at the two of them who were quietly joining the mirth.

Another thud. Another scream. Someone was yelling orders to fall back and aim for his fucking head and watch the blades and for fucks sake don't ... that voice stopped dramatically with a grunt.

At the word "blades" Owen was joined by Tosh as well and the four of them laughed quietly as the massacre continued in the main corridor outside the room.

With a thunk the door shook and then a voice begging was hitched to whimpering. The door shook again and the blade that slid through the wood like a knife through butter was long, sharp and red with blood. Drip. Drip. Drip. That was gonna stain!

Owen looked over at him and nodded toward the door. They shared a maniacal grin and they nodded to one another with glee.

"Hey Jack, Your boyfriend's back" Owen quipped with a shriek of laughter as the two Neanderthals hit the back wall with their fear backing them as far as they could go from the slowly retracting blade.

Yeah, they were in deep shit now!

Ianto must be pissed at the state of the hub when he returned from the drycleaners and Jack was glad they were locked in here.

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