Characters: Jack, Gwen, OCs.
Written For: Challenge 624: Alarm at tw100.
Summary: The Rift has dropped something off in a crowded club.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Jack raised his voice over the babble of panicked voices. “No cause for alarm, folks! The experts are here now; we’ll handle this. Just stay calm and remain where you are.”
He reassurances fell on deaf ears; people were desperately trying to get out of the crowded club, pushing, shoving, and screaming. Some of the braver clubbers were attempting to take matters into their own hands, throwing bottles, glasses, and chairs at the cause of the commotion, for all the good that seemed to do.
One woman threw a stiletto-heeled sandal, gripping the other in her hand to use as a weapon in case she was attacked, while the people who didn’t have easy access to the doors were clambering onto tables, or the bar.
Jack and Gwen pushed their way through the fleeing people, trying to see what they were dealing with; all Tosh had been able to say was that it was alive and approximately football sized.
Then Jack saw it, and made for the nearest table, scrambling onto it, Gwen right behind him.
“Though you said you’d deal with it?” a woman shouted.
“I don’t do spiders!” He tapped his bluetooth headset. “Ianto? We need your help!”