necessary_child | (no subject)

Atton quietly closes the door once all of them are out, before wandering up next to Sam, flicking a few sparks off his gauntlet.

"Is this a 'leave none alive' situation or a 'knock them out' thing?"

Jack already had one of his guns out, and trains it on the guards even as they stumble back, but waits for Sam's word.

He can work with either, but he sees that expression, and it doesn't look merciful.

Which is fine with him.

Sam's eyes flicker, and there are slivers of lightning streaking his hair like scars.

"I don't particularly care about the guards. Kill the rest of them, though."

His voice is as flat as his expression.

"Aye-aye," Atton says, unclipping a vibrodisk from his belt and letting it hover around him. "Think they could be convinced to just surrender nicely?"

"And quickly?" Jack asks.

Odds, anyone?

He catches the eyes of one of the guards and smiles in a manner that should really be pleasant.

"Probably."

Sam's lightning bolt is strong enough that it decapitates one of the standing guards entirely.

"...Ah well!"

It was the one next to the guy Jack just smiled at. He does have some class.

"Oh, right - there's a guy about in a lab coat - tall, skinny, in his forties. Specs and sandy hair. I want a word with that one."

"Okay," Atton says amicably, tossing his vibrodisk so that it cuts through several guards as they level guns at the group.

Jack shrugs, and shoots the gun out of one of the remaining guard's hands.

He may not have superpowers like the other two*, but centuries of practise make for some seriously good aim.

* Apart from that whole immortality thing.

The slight grin on Sam's face when he turns to Jack is the first sign of real emotion he's shown since before they went through the door.

"Nice shot."

Normally, he's not a fan of excessive flashiness in battle magics, but lightning bolts are nothing if not therapeutic. Another bolt or two, and the few remaining guards turn and run.

Alarm bells, however, are still going off throughout the labs.

"Those alarms are noisy," Atton says, lifting a hand. It takes him a moment to sense all the alarms. Then a quick clench of his fist and a movement in the Force crushes them all. "That's much better."

"That's handy," Jack observes.

"You have no idea how often I could have used a skill like that."

Actually, they probably have.

"Got an idea or two," Sam says, almost casually. "Well-played, Atton."

He looks disorientated for a moment, as the final echoes of the alarms quiver away. It's not a look that suits him.

"I ... don't remember where next."

"What are we looking for first?"

"Or could we maybe stop someone and ask directions?"

Obviously, anyone they run into will be delighted to assist them.

Obviously!

"Yeah, and I'm sure anyone here would be happy to hep." Sam pauses for a moment, trying to think.

"I want to find ... where I was. And find our friend with the labcoat. They must have written down what they were doing and how they found me somewhere: I want to find the records and destroy them. And then destroy this place, just to be on the safe side."

"We just go to where the lingering Sam-smell is strongest, then," Atton says, as if this is the most straightforward thing in the world.

Jack raises his eyebrows.

"Destroying buildings is no problem," he says confidently. "let's get there first. Pick a corridor, see how we go?"

Honestly, it's a wonder Torchwood is still standing. ~~FOR THE MOMENT.~~

"...We're not bloodhounds, Atton."

Sam stares around himself at the long white corridor with its many exits, trying to recall. There are smears of blood and grime on the floor, but they don't seem to lead anywhere obvious. It wasn't like he ever got to see much of this place, after all.

"Bah," Atton says, wandering over to Sam to sniff at him, before wandering off towards one of the rooms.

"Some of us aren't bloodhounds," Jack corrects Sam, moving absently to cover Atton.

"Apparently," he nods, following them. "Atton, try not to get shot, it'll be - Ah."

The room Atton's found is a short way down the corridor, and almost resembles a simplified operating theatre: there is a cot (with, unlike in most operating rooms, manacles for wrists and arms which have apparently been forcibly wrenched open), surfaces covered in various medical instruments, some clean and some ... less so, locked cabinets, a high-powered floor lamp which has been left on, and, in one corner, a computer with a large flat screen.

From the look on Sam's face, it's pretty obvious that Atton's found the right room.

"... I don't really like this room."

Jack doesn't like it either,

He doesn't say so, though his set face and increasing pallor does so for him.

"Sam," he says, with forced casualness. "Level and form of destruction preferred?"

Sam doesn't say anything for a few moments, and doesn't even seem to have heard.

Then, distantly, "The computer. Either of you capable of hacking?"

Sam, it goes without saying, isn't.

"I am, but I can't read Earthian," Atton says.