You have found yourself in the 52nd century, amongst the derelict ruins that were once Demon's Run, the infamous battleground of the Doctor and the Clerics. Whether or not you know the stories of Demon's Run, it's clearly been abandoned in the aftermath of a war. The fighting has only recently subsided, for bodies can still be found in dark corners of the military base.
You have no knowledge as to how you suddenly found yourself here. But if you think hard enough, the last thing you can remember is an echoing, rattling breath...WelcomeHow To JoinRulesTaken CharactersOOC Community
Jack had barely had a chance to get his bearings since arriving. Finding Ianto was a shock. That and the near suffocation had only steeled his resolve.
He moved through the corridors, looking for some sort of command centre and hoping it had enough power for him to hook it up to his wriststrap.
[OOC: PARTY STYLE. Anyone who wants to thread with Jack can either start their own subthread anywhere in the station (since Jack's exploring) or jump into someone else's.]
Although blessed with a second respiratory system, even River could tell that the oxygen levels were beginning to thin. And although she might last longer than most species, that was all she would do. Last longer. A complete lack of air would ultimately kill her just as it would anyone else.
That was why she had taken it upon herself to locate the air supply in Demons Run.
She strode purposely through the dark, metal corridors, moving as fast as she could without exciting her breathing rate.
The engine dock was up ahead, and somewhere near there, she hoped to find the source of oxygen. It couldn't have run out, but it most certainly could have been sabotaged.
Ianto didn't say anything to the others when he first noticed the air thinning. He mostly expected they'd noticed themselves and it would be pointless to reinforce any mounting fears by confirming them. No, instead he quietly slipped off to explore a bit.
The air is getting worse. He has to find some way to get the systems back online. As much as he hates the idea he finds a fairly clean set of clothes and puts them on, certainly more comfortable than wandering around in just his under clothes.
He makes his way down the hallway to the stairs, with the electricity being so undependable he is pretty sure the lifts aren't working. The low oxygen levels aren't making the stairs a fun task, hopefully he doesn't run into anyone who can breath better in conditions like this. A map of this bloody place would be nice. There has to be some sort of...control room. Somewhere. Or a computer to override the environmental controls.
The oxygen levels in Demons Ran has depleted even further. Those with a human biology system will notice the effects first by finding it hard to catch their breaths as well as a rapid heart rate.
The external doors remain locked but there is a chance of finding an oxygen supply if you can be quick.
There's a fully-functioning emergency oxygen factory located in the upper levels ... but don't run too fast.
"Fucked up piece of..." Hart glances around this is NOT the brothel he was aiming for.
"Shit..." He lets out a frustrated growl and checks the settings on his Vortex Manipulator. According to it.. he should be on that damn pleasure planet, clearly some wires are crosses somewhere. "Great."
Now..What are the chances he can at least get back to where he started from and then work from there. Weeeeeell... maybe not where he started from, that last 'job' was a bit iffy and they aren't too happy with him back there.. Maybe someplace... close.
He adjusts the settings again and presses the button to send him away.
"Well if that isn't just PERFECT." Now what? The damn thing is fried? GREAT. And he has no idea where he is...looks like it's time to explore. Note his complete lack of concern over whether anyone hears him or is around. If there were anyone close he would have noticed them by now, it's not easy to get the jump on him even if he doesn't seem like he's paying attention.
Now to explore. It's clearly a hanger. Dark. In most places, the lights keep flickering on and off, that is going to get annoying real fast, maybe he can find a panel and fix that. By the looks of things, someone has already had fun here. And without him. What a shame.
He makes his way across the open floor toward a door he noticed when he did his initial glance around the room.
Priorites: Find a control panel and fix the fucking lighting. Figure out where in the hell he is. Try not to get killed. (Not necessarily in that order.)
He whistles a little tune on his way, hands ever ready to pull his weapons if the need should arise, but so far every 'body' he's come across, doesn't appear to be going anywhere anytime soon. And worse yet, no new toys.. This is really shaping up to be a shit hole.
This was definitely not where she'd expected to be. Amelia Pond had fallen asleep in her garden, a million years ago and a billion miles away, and now she had woken up in this large, expansive base. Her eyes went wide for a moment, and she almost fell off the suitcase that she had been sleeping on.
When Amelia had imagined the inside of the TARDIS, she had imagined something that was entirely not this. She'd imagined something warmer with a swimming pool in the library and something that really wasn't quite as dark, and gray, and cold. She'd also expected the Doctor to be there.
Ever the practical girl, Amelia buttoned her jacket more tightly, and she pulled the mittens from her pocket and added them as well. She wasn't scared, but she wished that Doctor was around. Deciding that carrying her suitcase wasn't worth it, Amelia took a step forward in the hanger. "Hello?" She called. "Doctor?"
The corridor was only lit by dull, green emergency lighting and a calm, feminine voice was commanding that he find an escape pod to escape the base. Of course, that could only be because the power was failing, rather than an actual emergency.
By the Doctor's calculations, there should be enough air for another few hours at least, long enough for him to find the TARDIS. And if he could find the generators or some kind of control room, he could restore the power and there'd be no need to leave after all. Which would be preferable with the TARDIS nowhere in sight.
He scratched his nose as he walked; there was a pungent smell that tickled just a little and a strange kind of gas that was beginning to make his eyes water. But what was more important, leaving the base? Or finding the TARDIS?
The power in Demon's Run has failed to stabilise. Lights all across the base are extinguished, leaving only emergency beams highlighting the exits and workstations. A klaxon begins to wail in the distance, and cool electronic voice cuts through the musty air.
"Evacuation procedure in process. Proceed to the nearest exit."
But every external door remains locked.
And is the air getting thinner ... ?
The events of Midnight had taken their toll on them both. The thought of people trying to hurt the Doctor - her best mate - riled Donna to no end. And, on top of that, she was plagued with guilt - she should've gone with him, should've been with him on that shuttle.
Upon returning to the TARDIS, she had tried her best to comfort him, despite his protests that he was 'all right', until eventually she couldn't hide just how tired she was and the Doctor had sent her to her bedroom for some sleep.
Closing the door securely behind her, she collapsed onto her bed and closed her eyes, allowing herself to succumb to sleep. When she finally woke up, she felt a gasp escape her lips and she sat up, bolt upright, looking around her frantically. This was not her bedroom. Far from it, in fact.
"Oh, my God," she said, running an anxious hand through her hair, "Oh, my God."
Did he--? No. Had he just left her here? No. He wouldn't. He wouldn't. Well, then... where was he? Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Had-- Had something happened to him?
It's been three days. Three days since Jack sacrificed his life force or energy or whatever it was to defeat the Abadon and Billis Menger disappeared, three days and the captain still lay dead in the morgue. Ianto takes The Coat off it's hook in Jack's office, he buries his face in the rough wool and takes a deep breath. It smells like Jack. More than the man does at this point. No, right now, Jack smells like... chemicals, and death. The Welshman hardly realizes he's crying, if he did he'd probably feel a bit ridiculous, it's Jack he comes back, he always does. So why does it feel like this time he's not going to?
Gwen is down there. He'll let her, because it's easier for him to work and try not to think about it. He pulls his face out of the material taking one final breath before he does and hangs the coat back in it's place. Best not hang on to it to much, no telling how long before the lingering scent leaves it and he'd rather make it last as long as he can. He trails his finger tips over haphazard stack of files and papers that clutter the captain's desk. He's tempted to straighten it out, but if he did then it wouldn't be 'Jack's' anymore, and that's something he's not will to give up yet either. He had to get out. Find something to take his mind off of things for a little while. Get some fresh air take a breath. Just.... get out.
He sets out any other time. Walking along the Plass his hands neatly tucked in his pockets, he half considers telling Gwen to tell him if Jack wakes up, but changes his mind. She will anyway he trusts her enough to know she will. The Welshman decides to go by his flat, shower perhaps sleep if he can, clean suit and clothes for tomorrow, he's spent them bulk of the time Jack-he swallows- has been dead cleaning and trying to rebuild what they could of the Hub.
He's far more exhausted than he imagined when he reaches the door to the flat, his hand fumbles slightly with the key, partly from lack of energy and partly from just pure uncertainty over whether the captain will be coming back or not. Step, by step, he undresses, in his process, hanging his coat and slacks, smoothing the wrinkles, folding the shirt before laying it in the dirty clothing hamper, setting his shoes at the foot of the bed, laying his socks over the edge of the basket to air,a finally hanging his tie back in it's proper spot on the wrack.
The Welshman collapses on the bed exhausted, he can only hope tomorrow is a better day. His eyes fall closed and he's vaguely aware of the strange noise, he tries to remind himself to tell the super about in the morning. And off he drifts into the sleep of a man who is completely whipped.
The first thing he's aware of before he even opens his eyes is the stale scent in the air, the acrid aroma of old blood, and that it's dark. Even though his internal clock says it's the right time to be awake it is entirely too dark, even or Cardiff. He sits up and looks around realizing now he's on the floor and he's ....god help him in nothing but a t-shirt and his boxers. What in the hell happened last night?