Eyes of Time: The Final Line ✓

Chapter 66: Torchwood - Children of Earth 2&3

[Excavator]

The excavator rumbles along the road, its heavy treads grinding against the pavement. Inside, Rhys grips the edge of his seat, glancing at Ianto with growing frustration.

"Where the hell are you taking us, Ianto?" he demands.

Gwen leans forward, "What are we doing?"

Ianto doesn't take his eyes off the road, "You'll see in a moment. Get the car started. We've only got a few minutes. Come on."

He pulls the excavator to a stop at the edge of the quarry, allowing Gwen and Rhys to clamor out before steadying the massive slab of concrete containing Jack's body. The machinery groans as he extends the arm, positioning it just right.

"Come on, come on, come on," he mutters under his breath.

Then, with a final adjustment, he lets go.

The block plummets, crashing into the quarry floor. The impact shatters the concrete, dust and debris kicking up into the air. Without hesitation, Ianto jumps out and hurries to the waiting car, sliding into the seat beside Gwen and Rhys.

They drive down to where the rubble has settled.

[Quarry]

From the broken remains of the tomb, Jack hauls himself out, brushing dust from his skin.

"Told you I'd be back," he says, flashing a smirk.

Rhys shakes his head, "With a little help from us."

Jack looks around, still piecing together the situation, "What the hell's going on?"

Gwen exhales, "Don't know yet, but the latest from the kids is that it's happening tomorrow."

Jack straightens, rolling his shoulders, "I'm just in time, then."

"Get in the car," Gwen says, holding out his undertaker's jacket while making a conscious effort to look away, "Come on, we've got work to do."

Jack takes the jacket, slinging it over his shoulder instead.

"I called the number," Gwen adds.

Jack sighs, throwing on the jacket and adjusting his collar, "We could have handled this."

Gwen shoots him a pointed look, "Well, you were turned into a bomb by the government. I think a little help is in order."

Jack shakes his head, "She won't be coming alone this time, no way."

Gwen's brow furrows, "What, you mean she's bringing him?"

Jack nods, "Last time was a one-off. They're never apart."

[Contact room]

The sterile hum of machinery fills the room as Dekker watches the final preparations. He leans against the console, barely masking his amusement.

"Mister Frobisher, sir. Seals locked and release," he announces.

A technician nods, "Sir."

With a hiss, the containment area begins to fill with gas, a swirling, toxic fog spreading through the chamber.

Dekker recites the composition as if listing ingredients for a recipe, "As per the 456 instructions. A combination of twenty-five percent nitrosyl chloride, twenty-two percent hydrogen chloride, twenty percent nitrogen, twelve percent fluorine, nine percent hydrogen cyanide, six percent acetone, six percent phosgene. In short, poison," he glances at Bridget with a smirk, "I'd hold on to your nose, Bridget. Though come to think of it, you've been doing that for years."