(PARODY AMONG US): 7.8 Runway
Torchwood Parody Among Us
7.8 Runway
* * *
Torchwood. Outside the Government. Beyond the Police. Protecting the Future On Behalf of The Human Race. The Twenty First Century is when-
"ARE YOU READY TO PAARRRTAAYYY!!!"
The noise was deafening as the people flooded the streets. Lights and speakers and everything, everyone had set up it all incredibly quickly, and now the entire block was like an immense shuddering beast, all moving to the beat of the music, the motion creating the idea of a massive liquid taking up the block. Or a flame - as Ash mused would probably happen shortly.
ABBA blared out of the speakers as Ash took to the crowd. They strutted into the enormous whirlpool of people mashing faces and chugging drinks of worrysome quality. Pink Lights Blared into Ash's eyes.
"Happy End of the World Everyboddddyyyyyy!!!" A wasted Karen shrieked, miming a bottle as if it was a microphone.
It's not the end of the world, just the End of Cardiff, Ash thought miserably - as if the city hadn't been through enough. But the shrieking resounded through the crowd of clinking glasses.
"Happy End of the World!!!"
"Happy End of the Woorrllddd!!!"
The stupid - stupid - night life of this place. Ash loved this sort of thing usually - hooking up, relaxing, partying, but Oh good grief was this much.
He moved towards the corner, a few fashion artists in their flamboyant drag-like gear lay against a building wall - and waved. "Hello! Happy, um, End of Cardiff!" They mused, extending a hand. "Ash. He/They pronouns. So, how can a good ol' fashion freak sign up for the show tomorrow!"
"Well, it's pretty last minute."
"Cardiff being threatened by mass carpet bombing is pretty last minute."
"You're in."
"Excellent." Ash smiled slyly. He reached for a glass. "Happy End of The World!"
The sky seemed to tremble as the music played on.
Funerals in movies are often dismissed as unrealistic. They're often used to up the dramatic tension and emotion of the funeral scenes in question. Mrs. Thenardier's Funeral was today, and of course, it was a day that was moody as hell. Black Umbrellas, Black, Black, Black, and Grey Skies that dripped down grey rain on basil colored ground. Mrs. Thenardier was old, but she was an icon to Ash. Really, he had almost thought that the woman was immortal. Loads of Beer and Cigs, but she was just made of so much steel that she wasn't going to drop off any time soon.
But she had died because of them. Because of Torchwood. Another name to add to that long red list of people who died because of them and didn't even know what they were besides the fancy stupid van with the name on it that whizzed all over the place, all black and trying to seem cool, when really, Torchwood was staffed by a bunch of ill-prepared idiots.
If it wasn't for the fact that Anastasia lived above her shop, they wouldn't have set a bomb there.
Oh god, Anastasia. They'd find her. They had to find her.
Ash did not mourn quickly - he was the type to hold onto a grudge and hold longer to a fond memory. But by the time the Priest said "We are gathered here today..." he was over it. Sick of it. Whole thing shouldn't have happened. And he was all the more determined to stop it again.
"Yvonne," he asked at the Funeral. "I have a lead."
"Go for it." She said, darkly, looking at the long dark casket. "We don't have time to debate. We have to stop this from getting any further."
And Ash didn't need to hear it twice. They lowered the Casket into the ground, and the service was over, but Ash was far from resolved.
He would be when they blew the Committee into the ground.
Later That Day, The Hub
Ash began to explain. "The Committee are running the anarchist bombings around the city. They bombed Anastasia's home to bits, they're behind the photographers, as well as the Ice creature Richardson and Stacy faced in the cold storage unit. Interestingly, if you look at the pattern of where the bombings have taken place over the last month, you notice that many of the locations were visited by a certain Fashion Troupe. The Cardiff Dangeristas."
"The what now?" Stacy asked, sipping up a piece of spaghetti.
"The Cardiff Dangeristas. Cardiff has gone through a whole bunch of shit over the past ten years. Alien Invasion. Shadow Monster stomping the streets. Children being stolen, Miracle Day, the Sorvix, Bloody God, and now these Committee Anarchists. The whole thing about this troupe is it follows the danger and performs when it looks like things are going to shit. Which when you count today's political climate into the mix-"
"They never stop performing?"
"Gotcha. They're performing all over the city, and they're starting to make it big, because people are catching on that Cardiff buckling under all this strain is quite likely. My plan is to go undercover and join the Dangeristas." Ash smiled.
"Why?"
"Don't you get it? Someone in the troupe - they're the one planting the bombs!!!"
One Day Later
Tania sat in the hub. She was trying to relax and read on her break- but the book was awful. This Melody Malone had no writing talent whatsoever. She put the book down and sighed. Her computer buzzed. She moved over, and as she turned to the screen, suddenly it automatically opened up a video.
A dark screen, and then two people appeared on it. One in a Theatrical Tragedy Mask - the other in a Comedy.
"CARDIFF. WE ARE THE COMMITTEE. YOU HAVE 72 HOURS BEFORE THE CITY IS DECIMATED. THE CITY IS BLOCKED OFF. THERE WILL BE NO ESCAPE, NO EVACUATION AND NO QUARTER. PREPARE."
The Computer automatically clicked off.
Tania picked up the phone and called Andy. "Um, Hi, Andy - did everyone just get that video call from the Committee five seconds ago?"
She could hear rioting and screaming from the other end of Andy's phone. "Uh, yeah." Andy answered.
Now
The preparations for the event began that night - even though it was tomorrow night that the event - and also the bombing - would occur.
Ash could sense the hostility from the other models, and they didn't even know he was Torchwood yet.
"Hi, Ash, is it-" A chirpy short young girl asked. She began talking incredibly quickly in a long run-on sentence. "I'm Mai, and I'm the Manager for the show, you need to sign this waver and select your outfit backstage, you do know this is quite unusual, someone coming in the show so late like this, isn't it ever so exciting, well, I do hope you have what it takes, The other models can be somewhat Catty at times, but I'm sure you can handle it, deep down they do mean well, You'll do wonderfully, I'm certain, excuse me-" And with that they were off.
Ash checked the roster.
The First Model, Lydia Less, a traditionally feminine former ballerina. Social Media Influencer.
The Second, Rainn Foreman, Goth Activist that's largest claim to fame was starring as Morticia Addams on Radio Four. Nihilistic.
The Third, Sadie Sang, well known for her absurdist costuming - the previous winner on the circuit.
The Fourth, Mrs Boi, a Drag Queen from Sussex and political activist.
and the Final Contestant, Kevin Tong. ....Ash's Ex.
Oh, fuck.
* * *
Ash had to find out which one of them was the bomber. Or if it was Mai - which was also a possibility that Ash couldn't discount.
He moved backstage to find a few tiny makeup rooms for the models. Lydia Less was the first on the list of possibilities.
Alright then, Ash decided, opening the door. Let's Dance.
* * *
"Are you the girl with my latte?" Lydia asked.
"Not a girl. I'm one of the other fashion artists." Ash replied calmly. They tried not to get annoyed with these kinds of people.
"Well, do you have my latte then??" Lydia asked, putting on Eye-shadow and not looking.
Ash declined to reply. "I've just come in here to say hello. Ask you how the whole scene is doing."
"We're all gonna die, bro." Lydia said, twirling her (probably fake) blonde hair. "I feel it's like - for real this time too, it's like, in the air or something. It's probably the hallucinogenics the government puts in the atmosphere."
Ash nodded. "Oh, yeah, definitely."
"I'm almost sorry for you, we don't really have the time to get to know eachother anymore. The whole end of days is coming and whatnot. But you'll have to be good out there - we play to win in the Dangeristas. It's in the name."
"Isn't danger in the name?"
"It's in the name" Lydia insisted. "You better do your makeup honey. Rehearsals are in twenty."
Ash scowled, leaving the room.
He had done his makeup.
* * *
Lydia couldn't be it. For one, the assholes never did it in murder mysteries, and for two, Ash severely doubted that Lydia was smart enough to build and plant a bomb. Plant, maybe. But signs so far indicated that it was one person - they would have flagged the Dangeristas much earlier if it was an organized effort.
Oh flying horse shit is that Kevin oh my god
"Hey, Ashley!" He called.
Oh fucking shit
Ash sighed. "Ash." They said, trying to stay calm. "It is Ash now."
Kevin brushed it off. "Hey, I didn't think this was your scene anymore. Nice to see ya."
Maintain Cover. MAINTAIN COVER.
"Oh, yeah, well, who cares about your other jobs when it's the end of the world tomorrow!?" Ash feigned, laughing.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Hey, Ashley, we're probably gonna be dead tomorrow, if you have any regrets, or want to do anything before you go, you should come my way," Kevin said, winking and waving finger guns before walking off.
OH MY GOD HE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT THAT BASTARD
Ash leaned against the stage wall. UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH
The man has no basic awareness, no common decency - Okay, Ash. Breathe. Breathe. The Bastard is still as conceited as before, but he can't hurt you. You just have to find who's behind the bombings and stop them and then you can - I don't know, file a restraining order. Just get up. No Mental Breakdowns.
FOCUS.
Ash got themselves up, still angry, but determined. They were gonna solve a bombing. Save Cardiff.
"REHEARSAL IN FIVE!!" The loudspeakers called.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck
Ash ran.
* * *
"Good Evening Everybody!" Mai's chirpy voice came from the loudspeakers. "Tonight we have the Cardiff Dangeristas in the rehearsal of the best damn End of the World Fashion Show this side of everywhere! First up, we have our lovely Lydia Less, wearing a new ensemble in blue that she has made herself! Isn't it dazzling!!"
Lydia strutted down the stage, smoldering- you could tell she wasn't happy, but she looked fabulous. She sauntered back up the stage, and blew a kiss to the audience that wasn't there (because it was a rehearsal)
"Next up is our lovely Rainn Foreman in her piece by designer Oceania Pencil! It's made entirely from black velvet and blood and sweat and tears, and she looks fine! A round of applause to Rainn Foreman!"
Canned Applause.
"Following that, there's the bedazzling Sadie Sang, wearing.. a fig leaf. An audacious choice."
Sadie turned back, posing maniacally as she left the stage.
"Mr. Boi, wearing a simply magnificent-"
Ash tuned it out. He recognized Mr. Boi. Was that really...?? Ash reached for his gun subtly, but before he could reach it, Mr. Boi fell off the stage.
Ash rushed towards him, and checked his pulse on his neck.
Oh, damn.
"He's dead." Ash called.
* * *
Mr Boi was actually Dunebert Bois, one of Yvonne's information brokers. She had been spying on this entire place, and now that someone had found out, he was dead. No accident. Dunebert Bois was wearing a pacemaker - and someone had placed an incredibly heavy duty magnet underneath the stage. It messed up the pacemaker's instruments, and like that, he was gone. Almost instantaneous.
Cold, premeditated murder.
"The show must go on," they had proclaimed. Well then.
Who were they to argue?
* * *
The Next Day
Rainn and Sadie walked down the street to the show. The sky was red - not a good sign in the morning, whether you were a sailor or not- and the mood was dark.
"Rainn, Sadie," A cool voice said, walking up to them. "Hi, I'm Tania. Ash's business partner."
Sadie cautiously shook her hand.
"I was curious. You're still going on with the show, all of you, despite it all?"
"It's in the name. We're the Dangeristas. If we ran from trouble, our audience would be pissed. It's our whole gimmick." Sadie cooed, but Rainn shrugged.
"I'm not so sure," they said Morosely.
"Well, be careful out there," Tania said. "And oh, by the way." She said, her voice decreasing to a low growl. "If either of you hurt Ash, I will be extremely displeased." She let this sink in. "Cheers." Tania said, walking off.
The Show
The Crowd was deafening. The shrieking was almost like a concert, not a fashion show. The whole end of Cardiff scenario was getting to them all. Even Ash. They sat behind the curtain, preparing themselves for the show.
"You doing good, Ashley, pretty girl?" Kevin asked, walking up to them.
Ash swiftly kicked Kevin in the crotch. He toppled over.
"One. That's not my name. Two. I am not a girl. Three. I do not want to sleep with you, and you do not deserve anything from me. I've had a long, long, fucking few days, Kevin." Ash smiled, but it wasn't a friendly one. "And I'm, just, just...fed up! Don't waste my time."
Kevin moaned in Pain.
Ash checked his phone. One Hour until the Committee activates the Bombs. -Yvonne
They were getting close.
Ash texted back. It's fine. I know who did it.
* * *
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD EEEEEEEEEEEEVVEEEEENNNNNNNNING
CAAAAAAAAAAAAAARDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDIIIIIIIIIIIFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Mai yelled. "THE CITY MAY BE DOWN FOR THE COUNT, BUT THE DANGERISTAS ARE UP AND AT 'EM! PRESENTING: THE CARDIFF DANGERISSTAAAAAAAAASSSS!!!"
The Curtain swayed open, and as Lydia strolled out there was an echoing of bombs in the distance.
Lydia stumbled onto the stage. The crowd gasped. But the shaking stopped and Lydia got back up.
Mai tried to speak to pick it up."Uh, First up, we have our lovely Lydia Less, wearing a new ensemble in blue that she has made herself! Isn't it dazzling!!"
The Mood was glacial.
"Next is -"
Ash strolled on stage with a gun. "Next is the Committee stooge that's been responsible for placing dozens of bombs across the city - the one that had planted a nuclear warhead underneath the stage tonight. The Committee want to remake this world as it was before human life - and what kind of psychotic goth enviromentalist wouldn't align herself with that? Her dress is made by Oceania Pencil, who you may also know as Miss Trent - one of the Commitee's biggest stooges! Presenting - Rainn Foreman!"
Rainn gasped. "What! No, they're lying!"
"On the stage, Rainn." Ash grumbled. "I'm quite tired."
Rainn stepped out after Ash.
"Fine. It's me."
"The bomb trigger, please?" Ash said, pointing the gun.
Rainn handed a fob to Ash. "Thank you." He replied. "Sorry, end of the world is cancelled!!!" Ash called out to the audience.
"What? Why would you do it here, Ash - I, I mean, you could have got to me way before or even after the performance! You've alerted an entire audience to your existence! It makes no sense!"
Ash smirked. "Well, if I did that, then I wouldn't get to go down the runway."
* * *
The team was all there as Ash brought Rainn into the hub. "It's all over. Our bombing artist is captured."
"Bravo," Yvonne smiled. "We've wrapped the whole thing up quite nicely."
Rainn laughed. "Come on, Yvonne! The Committee will take down this city soon enough - There is no chance for you to succeed!"
Yvonne grumbled. "Take her away."
Rainn snarled. "Well then, you'll never find out what happened to your previous little agents."
Yvonne pointed at her. "What did you do to them?"
"You'll never find out!" Rainn yelled. "Torchwood is over! Soon the Committee-"
"I have them. Rescued them a few hours ago." A Voice From The Shadows. A woman at an open door, streaming dramatic light and shadow into the room as she strolled in.
"Cherry Classified. Director of Torchwood." She said, smiling, introducing herself. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Hartman. At ease."
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