It was underneath all that rubble and smoke that they both woke to pain.
Her wings were battered, almost broken. She just managed to shudder out a shriek as she awkwardly bashed away piles of loose rock with her short, stubby claws, managing just to slide her wings out and give them a frail flap as she stumbled across the battered covered remains of what had once been the Hub.
The Captain was gone. Her keepers were elsewhere. Her dull primeval mind managed to know that she would have to fend for herself from now on.
Deeper under the ground, another awoke to torment. The glass which had been her holding cell had cracked under the pressure, but ironically had also managed to preserve her life, keeping the worst damage away from her confines. She moaned loudly, feeling the pain of her two dead comrades in other, less fortunate cells. Death had claimed them both, and he would not be merciful. She knew that all too well as her kind respected and feared Death in equal measure.
She sniffed the air, attempting to locate the presence of her kind elsewhere in this dirty city. She felt their fear, their confusion.
Her monster mind could not understand the circumstances which had destroyed the world of her human captors. But she knew she would seek a way out.
She stumbled to move forwards. Her right wing was most definitely damaged, but not enough to render her incapable of flight in the future. The trick would be to locate a means of escape from this hellish environment – or at least, some means of nutrition.
At that moment, she heard a growl, the merest of snarls, and awkwardly turned to see through her prehistoric eyes a fellow monster. It had stumbled its way from the dark to this level, smelt her suffering, her blood.
The pair of monsters eyed one another for a moment. Then she shrieked loudly, mustering up strength as she half-flapped, half lunged at her would-be attacker.
She had no idea what the creature was. She knew there were other monsters the humans kept in this dark place, and clearly it had stumbled into this one's world. This one was injured, yet still it let out an angry cry.
Her own predatory mind asserted itself and she let out a roar of its own, teeth bared and claws moved to the kill, the tattered remains of her clothing trailing behind her as she lunged forwards.
The fight was bloody and swift. Teeth bit into leather flesh. A dozen pecks hit a haired body. Wings were used as rams to ward away the other. A sharp set of screams as claws flashed and beaks punctured.
It was a fight to the death which seemed to last forever to the pair of monsters.
But it must have only been a fraction of a minute when the roof started caving in.
Light from the governmental work-crews started streaming from above, enough to gain the attention of both fighters. The prospect of escape against continuing their conflict briefly entered their simple minds before one shrieked and flapped her wings hard, just enough energy to move from the monster she had been facing...
Moving across the wreckage of the hidden exterior of Cardiff Bay, Johnson was busy shouting orders at her men to locate the two survivors of the Torchwood team when two things got her attention.
First part of the Roald Dahl Plass collapsed in on itself, which considering the bomb she had seen implanted in Jack Harkness, was to be expected.
The sudden appearance of a bloody monster shrieking and taking to the air from the same hole wasn't. But her training and expectation of anything to happen surrounding Torchwood asserted itself quickly and she raised a fist to the sky where the monster was moving away and screamed out an order.
Bullets blazed around her and with a panicked cry, Myfanwy attempted to move further away from this insane world. Pain surged through her body and in her primitive mind she longed to be back in the simple skies of her home, the beautiful green plains with the lumbering titans below her, the roaring blue oceans with the plentiful fish and the calming cries of her kind in the nests on the cliff face.
But that world was long gone, a hundred and twenty million years in the past. And as the bullets whizzed closer, Myfanwy couldn't even begin to understand why such things had happened to her.
Then as a shot clipped the base of her elongated skull, darkness overtook her and at last, Myfanwy knew peace.
Janet crawled awkwardly upwards into the lightened darkness of the early morning, the smells of gunpowder and dust in the air, coupled with the sirens and noise of the humans above. Gunfire – they were shooting at the flying creature she had fought not a moment before.
She watched the creature scream and then topple from the sky. Dull emotions flooded her brain, but they soon were overrun with the matter of survival.
The first soldier never saw her chamber up next to him. His screams alerted the others. It meant little to her as his blood covered her fangs, it's sweet taste on her tongue as she tasted flesh for the first time since the oppressive world of the Cage.
She was free. And the humans would fear her. As they all should.
The Prehistoric Beast was barely falling when a scream from one of her men caught Johnson's attention. There was another beast emerging from the dark – another of the survivors of Torchwood's freak-show of aliens.
Again she felt the slightest twitch of fear, but it quickly turned into irritation. These creatures were keeping her men from seeking their true objective and Frobisher and the Prime Minister were counting on her.
"Bring that dammed creature down!" She yelled over the noise, but her men were trained enough to spot a problem and deal with it quickly.
The Weevil screamed in pain as the bullet slammed into her shoulder– she recognised a chase or the unpleasant scent of that spray the Captain and his team had used, but not since the Cage had she felt so great inflicted pain, and already battered from the destruction of the Hub she stumbled into the darkness, aware of the metallic object stuck within her flesh.
Janet moaned once again and moved into the welcome shadows, her attackers apparently finished with her as she shuffled away...
Johnson raised a hand as the monster moved away and used to responding to all of her commands, ceased their attacks instantly. "We're wasting time. You two," and she pointed at two of her men, "get after that thing and finish it off." She then waved an arm across at the dead reptile now splattered on the nearby pavement. "And get that damned thing out of sight! And locate Gwen Cooper and Ianto Jones!" As she walked across what was now technically a battleground her hand reached for her phone and she prepared to contact Frobisher, determined to locate the remainder of the Torchwood team...
As she struggled to move away, Janet felt the noises of her kind enter her brain. They were close and though she was in great pain, she pushed herself forwards, away from the noise and the senseless world of humanity-
She locked eyes with him, and simple recognition entered her brain as a snarl appeared on her blood stained lips. He was bleeding, a pained look on his face but it was still him; still the suited man she remembered.
Ianto Jones started as his eyes met the bleeding form of Janet the Weevil. His thoughts had been fixed on finding Gwen, and what the hell was going to happen to Jack, and all the materials of the Hub when she appeared. He had heard screams and gunfire; he just hadn't realized that Torchwood's own pets could be responsible.
A low moan emitted from the creature's throat and to his horror Ianto saw that she was bleeding profusely from the right shoulder, cursing the fact that there wasn't a Owen Harper or Martha Jones to help him and even if there were, there was hardly time to assist a pained alien.
His thoughts turned to the dozen aliens in the cells, to Tosh's fallen body, to Lisa and Suzie and even Jack's own frozen brother... no time to honour them or even check on them. His thoughts hung heavy as he became aware of the shouts of others closing in.
"I'm sorry Janet. I really am." He muttered under his breath. And then he was gone.
The Weevil saw the suited man run off into the darkness, her strained growl in the air as she stumbled into the shadows of the nearby streets. Black coated humans were everywhere and she could smell some closing in on her...
Then she scented something else. And if a Weevil was capable of laughing, Janet might very well have done so.
As the pair of soldiers rounded the corner, laser sight and guns cocked ready to put down the fanged creature from Torchwood's freak-house for good, their eyes widened.
There wasn't one ugly alien roaring back at them. There were six.
They snarled and rushed forwards, sheer terror making them drop their guns in flight as half a dozen beasts leapt on top of them and tore their bodies apart, limb from limb...
The carnage couldn't have lasted more than a minute as once again fresh human blood dripped down Janet the Weevil's snout. The five other Weevils growled at her, aware of her scent as stinking with human contact.
It would take time to return to the world and life she had once known, back in the darkness of this filthy city's sewers and damp places. Time to feel part of the group once again.
Janet didn't care. At last, she was home.