donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2008-12-08 10:40 pm
donutsweeper) wrote2008-12-08 10:40 pm
Entry tags:
Games of Days Gone By
Title: Games of Days Gone By
Pairing/Warning/Rating: none, rated G
Word Count: 459
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mad_jaks
Summary: In the future, a piece of Torchwood Three is rediscovered.
Author's Note: Written for day nine of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
consci_fan_mo
Accompanying art, can be found here. Click. If you dare.
The vidphone buzzed three times before Jack finally acknowledged it with a hearty slap and a brusque, “What?”
“Hello to you to, sweetheart.” Illdric grinned, his spines fluttering as he laughed. “Catch you at a bad time?”
“When is it not a bad time?” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “Tell me again why I thought becoming an administrator was a good idea?”
“I thought it had something to do with being offered all the coffee to drink that you could ever want?”
Jack joined in Illdric’s laughter as he reached over and picked up a his mug, raising it in a quick salute. “Oh right, there is that.” After a quick sip, and a sigh, he continued, “So, what’s the damage?”
“Damage?” Illdric’s nose crinkled at the unfamiliar phrase, which was precisely why Jack had used it.
“You’re so cute when you’re confused. Let me guess, you need more time. Or you want a new assignment. Or you actually did break something.”
“Ah. Oh, no, not at all. I think there’s an excellent chance we’ll actually finish on schedule here. The old archives are almost completely empty; one more shipment and designation T3.01 will be ready for demolition.”
“I still say designation T3.01 is a ridiculous name. What’s wrong with the Hub or Torchwood Three? Just because it doesn’t translate as nicely- never mind- not going into that argument again.”
“Anyway,” Illdric continued, undaunted by the interruption, “We found something misfiled that I’m afraid I don’t understand the significance of.”
“It’s not another take away menu, is it? I told you, sometimes-”
“No, it’s not a take away menu. It’s a folder labeled ‘Death Games.’ It appears to contain several homemade bingo cards. They confuse me.”
“That’s because bingo’s boring.” Jack snorted, his attention wavering as his datapad beeped.
“That’s neither here nor there. It’s the nature of the cards that doesn’t make sense.”
“I’m not following you, Illdric.” Jack clicked through the incoming messages, erasing half unread.
“Assaulted, blown up, fell, crushed, shot... and so on and so forth. Some of the words are crossed out, while others have been written over.”
Head whipping up in surprise, Jack nearly dropped the datapad. “What? Let me see!”
Illdric held the card up to the viewscreen. Despite its obvious age, it wasn’t that difficult to read. Jack could clearly make out the handwritings of his old team: Tosh’s comment about the random generation of the words, Ianto’s impaled/gored complaint, Owen’s triumphant ‘Ha!’ which must have been referring to that time Jack had tripped over a gargoyle and fallen to his death thirty stories below.
Death bingo.
Jack snickered. Even after all this time that team of his could surprise him. And make him laugh. God, he missed them.
Pairing/Warning/Rating: none, rated G
Word Count: 459
Beta:
mad_jaks Summary: In the future, a piece of Torchwood Three is rediscovered.
Author's Note: Written for day nine of
consci_fan_mo Accompanying art, can be found here. Click. If you dare.
The vidphone buzzed three times before Jack finally acknowledged it with a hearty slap and a brusque, “What?”
“Hello to you to, sweetheart.” Illdric grinned, his spines fluttering as he laughed. “Catch you at a bad time?”
“When is it not a bad time?” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “Tell me again why I thought becoming an administrator was a good idea?”
“I thought it had something to do with being offered all the coffee to drink that you could ever want?”
Jack joined in Illdric’s laughter as he reached over and picked up a his mug, raising it in a quick salute. “Oh right, there is that.” After a quick sip, and a sigh, he continued, “So, what’s the damage?”
“Damage?” Illdric’s nose crinkled at the unfamiliar phrase, which was precisely why Jack had used it.
“You’re so cute when you’re confused. Let me guess, you need more time. Or you want a new assignment. Or you actually did break something.”
“Ah. Oh, no, not at all. I think there’s an excellent chance we’ll actually finish on schedule here. The old archives are almost completely empty; one more shipment and designation T3.01 will be ready for demolition.”
“I still say designation T3.01 is a ridiculous name. What’s wrong with the Hub or Torchwood Three? Just because it doesn’t translate as nicely- never mind- not going into that argument again.”
“Anyway,” Illdric continued, undaunted by the interruption, “We found something misfiled that I’m afraid I don’t understand the significance of.”
“It’s not another take away menu, is it? I told you, sometimes-”
“No, it’s not a take away menu. It’s a folder labeled ‘Death Games.’ It appears to contain several homemade bingo cards. They confuse me.”
“That’s because bingo’s boring.” Jack snorted, his attention wavering as his datapad beeped.
“That’s neither here nor there. It’s the nature of the cards that doesn’t make sense.”
“I’m not following you, Illdric.” Jack clicked through the incoming messages, erasing half unread.
“Assaulted, blown up, fell, crushed, shot... and so on and so forth. Some of the words are crossed out, while others have been written over.”
Head whipping up in surprise, Jack nearly dropped the datapad. “What? Let me see!”
Illdric held the card up to the viewscreen. Despite its obvious age, it wasn’t that difficult to read. Jack could clearly make out the handwritings of his old team: Tosh’s comment about the random generation of the words, Ianto’s impaled/gored complaint, Owen’s triumphant ‘Ha!’ which must have been referring to that time Jack had tripped over a gargoyle and fallen to his death thirty stories below.
Death bingo.
Jack snickered. Even after all this time that team of his could surprise him. And make him laugh. God, he missed them.