(PARODY AMONG US): 7.2 Baptism of Fire
Torchwood Parody Among Us
7.2 Baptism of Fire
Starring Tracy Ann Oberman, Natalia Cordova Buckley, Ian Alexander, D'Arcy Carden and Jason Hughes with Ben Mendelsohn
The Hub
Anastasia had not felt a thing for the past few hours. She sat in one of the hub's corners... one of the few places where the walls were intact and you could almost believe you weren't one hundred feet above sea level...that is, if you could get the imagery out of your head.
The Weevil, whatever it was... it was... she did not know how to react to these things.
You must be strong, her Papas would have told her. You must do what is right. Then you will have time to grieve.
But she did not feel anything. She did not feel anything, no shock, no betrayal, no horror - okay, that wasn't true - there was a bit of horror coursing around her system. But not what she expected. When she heard about it in the shop from Mrs. Thenardier, that was worse. Because death, Anastasia could understand.
When she was young in the Orphanage, before her Papas had found her, she had a friend...Haley... Haley became very sick very quickly and soon she was gone and it was the worst thing in the world.
She cried and bawled, and threw a fit, and she had felt that way when Mrs. Thenardier told her about her uncle.
She did not know how to react to the uncle being alive, but savage, no longer something she could understand. She could not rationalize whether it was better or worse.
"Hi," a kind voice came out. "You look sad."
Stacy Richardson came up to her. "Hi. I'm bad at meeting people. Always embarass myself the first time, all too cheerful and coy. Can we try introductions again? I'm Stacy."
"Anastasia," Anastasia said quietly.
"I always freak out at this sort of thing. Yeah. Knew you'd be here. Aren't that many places the base doesn't look weird and freaky, for you to have a nervous breakdown in. It's kind of like, my corner." Stacy smiled awkwardly. "Come here all the time."
"You are not like the others." Anastasia said bluntly. "You are friendly, they are veiled, and professional."
"I think Ash is nice sometimes. At least, when they're not freaking out about their machinery not working." Stacy said. "Or being all self superior. Or- yeah, you might be right." Stacy sat down next to her. "Yvonne and Tom are talking it out right now. I think you might be in."
"What do you mean?" Anastasia asked, a bit bitterly.
"Into Torchwood." Stacy said. "At least, probably."
"How? I wanted to help, but I did not really think that I would- I have no credentials."
Stacy smiled awkwardly again. "Preach, Sister." She laughed. "...I dunno. Yvonne is weird. It's like she has a plan for everyone that no one but her can see. And most of the time, I don't exactly feel welcome. But hey! You're here now, at least I think, if you want it. And I think you're nice."
"Thank you." Anastasia said quietly.
Stacy leaned back against the wall. "Welcome to Torchwood."
Outside The Government and Beyond The Police. Protecting The World on the Behalf of The Human Race. The Twenty First Century is When Everything Changes. And Torchwood is Ready. Isn't it?
Two Days Later...
Anastasia got out of bed from her flat at Mrs. Thenardier's, and proceeded to go to work. Mrs. Thenardier that morning clearly had a hangover, and had come to the wise conclusion that the way to fix this was more alcohol, so she was also clearly drunk.
It was Anastasia's first day at Torchwood. Yvonne had insisted on giving Anastasia two days before she entered the job to regain composure. Anastasia had wasted them, able to think of little else than Torchwood and what was going on there.
Anastasia waved down the bus and stepped aboard. The next stop was near Jubilee Pizza, so she wouldn't be on the bus for long. She took a seat.
"Did you hear about it?" A snotty teenager said, excitedly turning to her.
Anastasia thought she was one of the only people alive who liked teenagers. They were adult enough, but the right ones had that surge of childishness that she liked to see. All the same, this kid looked like a brat.
"Hear about what?" Anastasia asked, half paying attention.
"Carl Summers! Tom Richardson's biggest business rival - they say he's gonna be the next Bezos! He's coming to Cardiff to speak at our school next week! He's already been to a bunch!" The kid said.
Right. Anastasia had forgotten this was the weekend.
"What do you know about Tom Richardson?" Anastasia asked, now invested. She hadn't gotten much of a good impression of Richardson when they met. The man felt to her like smoke and mirrors.
"Man's a recluse. People hadn't seen him for years, until he comes out of nowhere with a mobile chip that revolutionizes the market. Everyone who's anyone uses Butterfli brand software because of him. He's almost took Carl Summers off of the market."
"Thanks. You've been a help." Anastasia muttered.
The bus came to a halt and the light beeped and Anastasia walked off and moved, stepping off the bus.
It was only after she stepped off, she realized how strange that was. Why did that kid tell her all of that exactly?
* * *
Anastasia opened the Jubilee Pizza back door and came out into the alleyway, stepping through the perception filter. She'd never get used to the feeling, suddenly seeing the hallways extend out to the sky where she couldn't before.
A man standing by Ash's usual workbench turned towards her. "Hey! Who the hell are you, exactly?!"
Ash came in from the other room. "Oh, hello, Anastasia. Don't worry, Brayden. She's the new girl."
They adjusted their hair.
Anastasia didn't know how Ash always looked like they came off of some beauty runway.
Anastasia shook it. "How many Torchwood's are there?"
Hunter furrowed his brow. "I'm pretty sure that's classified. I'm your Torchwood Accessor for today."
"Laters." Ash muttered, logging onto his computer as Anastasia and Hunter walked up the chute to the sky hub.
Mr. Richardson stood in the middle of the room, in a dark suit. "Ah. Agent Rodriquez. Hunter. We have work to do."
"Where's Yvonne?" Anastasia asked.
Richardson didn't miss a beat. "We all have our assignments, Agent Rodriquez." He said in his gravelly voice that Anastasia still couldn't place. "Here's yours."
He pressed a button on the screen. "A wave of intelligence is coming over Cardiff." Richardson began.
"People are suddenly far smarter than before - and Torchwood believes it is alien. Our chief suspect? Real Estate Mongol and technology innovator, my...good acquaintance, Carl Summers. Summers is currently on a dirigible over Cardiff - and next week he's going to be speaking to schools across the nation for some unknown purpose. We don't know what he's up to, but you two are going to find out."
"You think it has to do with the Country's children?"
"Heaven knows they've been through enough." Richardson said coldly. "Get on it."
* * *
Anastasia and Hunter came out of the briefing.
"That's all he gives us? Get on it?" Anastasia blubbered. "I thought We'd get more context than that!"
"Well, if you can't handle it, I'm happy to do it on my own." Hunter said dismissively.
Oh, wonderful. Anastasia thought. I have one of THOSE co-workers.
Anastasia clicked on the Torchwood Smart Car. "No, I can handle it. So, We go to this dirigible and find out what Summer's is planning..."
Hunter shrugged. "How well do you clean up?" He asked, without any sequitur whatsoever. "Do you look nice in a Dress?"
Anastasia sighed. "I don't see how that-"
"I ask because Summer has a formal dress outing on his blimp tonight. Where he's probably going to reveal his plans. And I bet Richardson can get us in." Hunter explained. "So, how do you look in a dress?"
Anastasia frowned. "I'm wearing a suit." She said, sharply.
* * *
Richardson sat in his chair at the hub. The phone rang. Eyes narrowed, he picked it up.
"Mr. Richardson," A distorted voice said. "You will call off your agents. You will stop tracking us."
Richardson rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm sorry, Mister, but they've only just started. You have to give them a bit of a chance" He said, mockingly, adjusting his waistcoat. "Who is this? You cannot intimidate me."
The Voice hung up.
Mr. Richardson rolled his eyes. Could be any number of people.
A disheveled Yvonne Hartman walked into the room.
Richardson smirked. "Oh, hey there." He said, southern drawl more pronounced than usual. "Weevil Hunting?"
Yvonne didn't look at him to answer, eventually mentioning something about sentient orchids. They sat down to work.
They were very similar, the two of them. Both efficient, and neither felt compelled to say anything of note.
It was a while before Yvonne asked. "Anastasia's first day?"
"Field work." Richardson said bluntly. "We've gotten her and Hunter invitations to the gala tonight on Carl Summer's private blimp."
"Oh. A Private Blimp and a Gala. Anastasia is doing well." Yvonne smirked.
Richardson smiled. "And we've received threats too."
"Obviously." Yvonne said in a huff. "You think the two of them can handle it? They're both pretty green in terms of experience."
"Anastasia doesn't have any field training or weapons training, but she's smart and resourceful. She'll prove herself. Hunter likes to think he's king of the world - if he learns to forget that this evening he'll be fine."
"Will he?"
"Probably not. I'll get my coat."
* * *
Oh, how the rich partied. Anastasia scowled, moving through the decadent crowds of Summer's blimp.
"Come on now, give us a smile," Hunter said. "If you don't look like you're happy, you're drawing suspicion."
Anastasia didn't care to correct her face. The people moved around her like an ocean, a sea of rich smug smiles and fancy suits, drinking out of gold-plated glasses and dancing with women that looked like they had to be paid to even be here with the distain on their lips.
"Hell of a party," Hunter commented. "You gotta admit, this Summers guy, he's got style."
Anastasia glared at Hunter but he was oblivious. Oh, what she would have given to have worked with Ash on this instead.
"You circulate around up here then. Get to know people. I'll go down and check the lower decks and find whatever Summer's secrets are." Anastasia whispered.
"Oh, do I have to do up here? How do I get to know a bunch of rich blokes? They're not exactly my category."
"Oh, because you're so good with the ladies." Anastasia muttered. "You'll figure something out." She said louder, and she slinked off.
Hunter went over to the wine table and poured himself a punch. He'd need it.
"Good evening, everybody!" A man in a tux said, descending from some frankly gorgeous gold stairs.
Summers had arrived.
* * *
Anastasia discovered very quickly that the further she removed herself from the blimp's ballroom, the more dirty and nasty it became. Soon there were no carpets or pretty embroidery on the walls, just dark metal pipes swarming around her. She must be close to the engine.
She looked around, and eventually found a sheet of darkened glass. She moved over and rubbed at it with a handkerchief.
There was a child, floating in liquid inside. Connected to some kind of Oxygen tank. Medical patches on the arm. Some kind of experiments were being performed on him.
Carl Summers was a child trafficker. This day kept getting better.
* * *
Carl Summers walked into the center stage, and bowed, grandly gesturing for the crowd to listen in.
"Good evening, everybody!" he repeated, and awkwardly cleared his throat.
"People often ask me how I got to where I am today. People ask me about how an Entrepreneur like myself can build myself up from nothing, and the answer is simple. Of course, there's discipline, and there's of course, the vast amount of money I had already inherited, but the real simple answer in one word is Intellect." Summers began, melodramatically.
Oh brother, Hunter thought. Even he wasn't buying what this guy was selling. Both literally and figuratively.
"Recently, well, Tom Richardson's famous Butterfli software has left our company, CarlCorp in the dust. But today, we are striving forward. Today is literally...all about intellect. Imagine if you could buy and sell...brain power. Make yourself a genius if you've got the cash. Sell your own intelligence for an absurd fee of money. Intellect has always been the number one currency in the world, the only one that matters, and today, I plan to make it a real currency."
* * *
Something was being siphoned out of the children down here, Anastasia thought. Wires connected to the back of their neck, something flowing out of them. Not blood... Oh, she couldn't tell what it was. The glass was dirty and her handkerchief couldn't clean it up much more. There were about ten tanks in here.
Ten children. Carl Summers was going to all those talks at these schools for a certain reason. He was going to these places to take these children and take what they had for some reason that Anastasia could barely fathom. Why weren't they reported missing?
Anastasia rummaged through the low dark hallways, before finding several large crates labelled "Retcon."
Well, that will explain it. He's taking the memories of the children from others when they go missing.
That kid on the bus. It felt to her like he was trying to explain something to her, he sounded like some kind of clunky exposition. Maybe he was trying to warn her. Maybe he had been retconned. You can't retconn emotion, he would still have felt that something bad had happened, but he couldn't remember.
Oh, she couldn't theorize now. She had to get to Hunter - make sure that Summers was arrested before he-
"Hey! What are you doing back here!"
A Guard! Oh balls- The Guard moved closer and aimed a gun directly at her. "You aren't supposed to be back here! This stuff is classified!"
"Oh, I bet." Anastasia said furiously.
* * *
Richardson walked onboard the blimp in a gorgeous suitcoat. There was a problem with doing espionage when he was this famous, but he'd do what he could.
"Hey! Tom Richardson!" One of the guards exclaimed. "You are DEFINITELY not on the guest-list."
Richardson rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course I know that." He muttered.
He shot the guard.
Silencers make a lot of noise. It muffles the noise of the gun, sure, but it's still incredibly loud. Torchwood was the first agency ever to devise the first gun that was actually completely silent. It made no noise at all. Not even a tiny woosh.
And so Richardson, gun back under his coat, silently dispatched any guards who troubled him or anyone who recognized him too quickly.
A shot in the shoulder to incapacitate, a shot in the head to kill.
He didn't miss once.
* * *
"So. Let's open up an auction, shall we? Who wants the first dose of some new IQ! Who wants to be smarter than anyone else? And who doesn't care about that and wants a quick buck!? I'm here all night, ladies and gentlemen." Carl Summers smiled wickedly.
Hunter tried to move closer without attracting attention.
"You!" Carl Summers pointed. "What is your name, mister-"
Hunter tried desperately to remember his alias. "Uh, sorry, I'm Colin Jameson."
"Well, Mr. Jameson, you look like a smart fellow. Why don't you come up here and show people what you've got!"
"I'm not interested in selling."
"Oh, but I insist. It's perfectly harmless Mr. Jameson. Unless you have something to hide. Then your brain might fall out of your orifices." Carl Summers smiled.
The crowd laughed, thinking he was joking.
There was a moment of silence and suddenly the guards to the left and right of Summers fell over.
Mr. Richardson entered the room, firing his gun. Carl Summers dropped to the ground.
People began to gasp. They still didn't know what was going on, where it was coming from.
Richardson put the gun away before anyone saw him.
"Hunter!" He called. "Where the hell is Anastasia?!"
* * *
Okay. Anastasia thought. Gun trained to your head. This has never happened to you before. This is bad, this is scary, this is probably awful, this is-
Oh, but she didn't feel scared. She just felt angry. Which was good. She was happy to feel something after the past few days. So. Let the fella have it. Get him distracted. Hit him with the gun.
"They've siphoned out the intelligence out of these children." She yelled. "Where did you put it!?!"
"I'm not telling you that!" The Guard said, arm shaking.
"If this wiring looks correct, it looks like it's been induced into a pure liquid state. So let me guess. Is it drinkable? Intravenous Injection? You're gonna kill me in a minute, you might as well tell me."
"I might as well not!" The Guard yelled, gritting his teeth.
"You do know how many kids are in here? Have you even counted them! The one behind you has a deflated head!"
The Guard fell for it, turning around to look, and then Anastasia picked up the crate and threw it. He fell to the ground.
She ran over and grabbed the gun.
Oh, what had happened to her? A few days ago she never would have hurt someone like that. A few days ago she was apologizing to bugs when she stepped on them on accident.
Why the hell did she like it?
She ran to find Hunter.
* * *
Torchwood cleared out the Blimp in a few hours. The people - one by one, were retconned. The children onboard the ship, disconnected were returned to their families. Two of the children were too far gone.
In a matter of hours, Carl Summers went from a hero, a celebrity, to the most reviled man in the world.
In a matter of hours, Anastasia was looking at the Blimp - still connected to Carl Summer's dock for Blimps was sitting there. They hadn't even gotten to take it out on a maiden voyage.
Anastasia wondered what use the Blimp was if they had docked it and then just used it as a building for a party.
She was staring at it, beside Ash, Yvonne, Richardson, Stacy and Hunter. She was still furious.
Stacy smiled at her. Anastasia, despite herself, felt a tiny bit better.
"Anastasia, Hunter, you did good today." Yvonne said. She didn't bother to say anything else on the subject minus a brief exclamation of 'Happy Day!' when they saw Summers being taken away by the authorities. Soon, most of them left, and Anastasia was the only one, still staring at the blimp.
Stacy came back, and sat back down next to her.
"Is it always like this?" Anastasia asked. "Will humanity always be so-"
"Ugly? I don't know. But hey, you stopped it. That's proper good."
"We don't know where the intelligence was siphoned off to. We could have done a lot better." Anastasia said.
"Eh, I don't think Carl will get a hand on it in prison."
"But really? Is it always like this?" Anastasia looked at Stacy desperately. "Because I might not be able to handle it."
Stacy solemnly looked at the blimp with Anastasia. "I don't know. Today's my second week on the job."
This Story (Hypothetically) Starred
Natalia Cordova Buckley as Anastasia Rodriquez
Jason Hughes as Brayden Hunter
Ben Mendelsohn as Tom Richardson
D'Arcy Carden as Stacy Richardson
Tracy Ann Oberman as Yvonne Hartman
Ian Alexander as AshWith
David Conrad as Carl Summers
Noah Schnapp as The Kid
Katy Manning as Mrs. Thenardier
* * *
Carl Summers sat in prison. He was alone. He had failed and he was angry.
He had nothing... almost nothing.
The Man came to him. "Do you have it?" He asked.
And Carl looked at him. And scowled. And he handed him the vial of siphoned intelligence.
The vial that should rightfully be his.
"You have done well." The Man said. "I look forward to our future partnerships."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm in prison! There ain't gonna be no future partnerships!" Carl Summers screamed, and the man walked out of the cell and now he was truly alone.
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