Characters: Ianto, Jack, OFC Miss Pemberton, Mitzi the Dog, a Mummy
Summary: What’s the best way to deal with a rampaging Mummy? It depends on the Mummy…
Word Count: 400
Written For: The prompt ‘Oh Look! Mitzi's Found Her Mummy’, one of the prompts for tw100’s challenge 288.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Miss Pemberton took one look at what her dog, Mitzi, had just dragged out of the undergrowth, screamed and promptly fainted. Ianto supposed that under the circumstances it was a quite understandable reaction really.
Mitzi, on the other hand, seemed inordinately pleased with herself. The six foot tall, bandage-clad Mummy was rather less impressed, judging by the way it was moaning and flailing its arms about.
Ianto clicked on his bluetooth.
“Jack, do regular bullets work on Mummies?”
“Now there’s a question I never expected to be asked,” Jack replied, voice slightly tinny in Ianto’s ear. “Try it and see.”
Ianto considered his options. The Mummy was rather slow moving and didn’t appear to have eyes, but sounds seemed to attract it. It was currently lumbering unsteadily in the direction of the yapping poodle.
On the plus side, that meant it was moving away from the unconscious woman, but the poodle might well be in mortal peril.
Just as Ianto was trying to decide whether or not to try shooting it, Jack arrived.
“How come you didn’t shoot it yet?”
“Didn’t want to piss it off.”
The Mummy moaned louder, wavering, torn between following the poodle and heading towards Jack.
“That moan sounds awfully familiar.”
Ianto stared at his lover in horror.
“Oh God, please don’t tell me you slept with a Mummy!”
“Of course not! I’m not into necrophilia! There was a cute Pharaoh in ancient Egypt though…”
The Mummy made up its mind, lurching towards them as the poodle grabbed a trailing end of bandage and pulled.
Ianto stared, mouth open, as the Mummy unravelled in front of them, revealing a familiar pair of boots and grubby trousers, before it got tangled and fell on its face.
“Well, that explains why it was following the poodle.”
Jack used one of Hart’s own knives to cut away the rest of the bandages.
“Thought I told you to stay away from my city,” he muttered.
The only reply was a loud moan.
“I think he wants to say something,” Ianto said with a smirk.
Glaring at his ex-partner, Jack asked,
“Got something to say for yourself?”
Hart moaned louder and more urgently.
Jack ripped the tape from his mouth.
“This wasn’t by choice!”
“Get on the wrong side of someone, did you?”
“Something like that.”
“Get outta here.”
“With pleasure. Can I keep the poodle?”