Project Jones – Chapter One
Disclaimer – I do not own the characters involved in this story, nor do I own Torchwood.
Summary – Ianto Jones worked for Torchwood One for two years. But after an accident leaves him different from the rest of humanity, he is imprisoned by his employers and two years on, it is time for him to escape. This is his story. This is the life of Ianto Jones.
White walls. One glass door. No escape. The same routine every day for two years. Cell inspection, breakfast, five hour training. So many different martial arts to learn, all beginning to jumble into one.
Punch, kick. Punch, kick. Flip and grab. A sharp snap as the wood splinters on the dummy's knee joint.
Shower, then an hour's break with the other inmates. Then the men with white coats come in, plastic smiles smeared on their tanned faces. Alien in the air-conditioned environment. Never has a summer breeze rolled through the long lonely corridors.
Ianto Jones sits apart from the others. He is different. Originating on this planet and not the alien ones they have fallen from. Keeping quiet, seen and not heard. That's his motto. It makes everything less painful when one of their very small number disappears behind the steel door and never returns. Ianto has been taken through the door every day at 4.00pm for the past two years. Behind the door lies only pain and greedy faces that cut and type. Recording every movement, every incision, every breath and every blink that Ianto has ever done. They all lay buried deep within the computers cold heart.
Buried and hidden. Just like him.
Trapped in a concrete maze with no escape and no hope glimmering when the lights turn out. The darkness brings fear and nightmares. The pills that sit on his bedside always stay untouched.
Torchwood controls his body, but they will never control his mind. He won't let them. Whatever they touch turns black and empty, just like the other inmates that keep Ianto company. Mere shells of their former beings. But Ianto wants to escape. Each day brings the same routine, no change.
The doctors are back again, this time carrying a collar. It shines evilly in the light, the cold metal fusing against the flesh of his neck. He feels a needle enter his neck at the back. Burying inside until it reaches his spine. The collar controls him, Torchwood controls him. His mind is no longer his own.
Ever since the grenade, he's always know what they were doing.
Creating the ultimate soldier.
His day had started normally. He woke at 5.05am and immediately stood from his bed. The gentle hands of sleep were shaken off by the buzzing around his neck.
His cell was of medium size. It was rectangular in shape with the door set in at the far end, allowing the view of the whole concrete space. His bed was metal and bolted to the floor with a metal side table that held a small lamp and a plastic cup of water. Next to the bed was a small wardrobe that had a sliding metal front. Ianto walked over to it, pulling his bed clothes off as he went. He chucked them down a small metal shoot and grabbed some black combat trousers and a Torchwood emblazed black t-shirt and put them on. There was a screen door to his right that hid a small toilet and sink and just beyond that, in the centre of the room was a punching bag hanging from a thick metal chain. Ianto gave it a few quick jabs followed by a left uppercut and a sharp kick to the centre that sent the bag swinging away from him. Ianto paused mid-kick and tilted his head to the side. He heard footsteps. One pair, a lazy left then right, dragging its right foot every few steps. Then the heavy thud of two pairs of military boots followed. A simultaneous left then right, like clockwork. Ianto sighed as he heard a hearty chuckle and stilled the swinging punch bag.
He stood for a few seconds until the gentle hiss of hydraulics signalled the entrance of his doctor. His captor. His torturous master. The glass door slid smoothly aside and a man strode in with a beam on his face. He was limping on his right and carried a wooden cane.
"Hello ma' boy!" He exclaimed, clapping Ianto on the back. "Sleep well?" He asked, not a hint of worry in his voice. Ianto remained silent. The doctor sighed. His name was Mr Ashton. He was a balding man in his forties. He was the first to discover the amazing use of the necklace that had dropped through with a few aliens two months back and was now fused to Ianto's neck. He didn't much care for how Ianto was; only that he was in perfect working order as a Torchwood Special Operative, TSO, for short. A lot of money was being pumped into Project 246 to prepare him for protecting planet Earth against extraterrestrial threats. A permanent trainer had been allocated at the gym to teach him how to become a deadly fighter. Only the most essential arts had been taught. Judo, Muay Thai boxing, kickboxing and Tae kwon Do. In short, Ianto was in a very good condition to defend himself.
They had started chucking him into the arena with some weakened Weevils a few months ago. It had only taken the 22 year old and few kicks to find the alien's weak spot. It was on the floor after a few minutes of wrestling. They had then pitted him against further creatures and schooled him on their appearances and habits, but he knew most of them anyway.
"Jones? Are you ready for your training today?" Mr Ashton asked his voice was gritty from a lifetime of smoking. Ianto nodded silently and Mr Ashton pointed ahead. Ianto walked up to the glass door and two pairs of hands grabbed his shoulders. Ianto had been expecting this and relaxed his body as the two guards guided him to a wall and he planted his hands on it, his legs a shoulders length apart. The smaller guard began to pat him down thoroughly and grunted in greeting.
"Mornin' Ianto." One of the guards said happily, he was watching the search. He was tall and broad with blonde hair and a small but bright smile.
"Morning Clive. How are the rounds so far?" Ianto said back easily. Clive smirked and leaned against the wall so that Ianto could see his face. He pointed his finger at a long cut on his cheek.
"Bloody Weevils are giving me hell." Ianto smiled sympathetically. "I'm too pretty to get hurt." He joked.
"The Weevils seem to have taken issue with that." Ianto pointed out dryly. Clive gave a short bark of a laugh and pushed off the wall. The other guard was female and had dark black hair and quick eyes.
"All done. The dogs clean." She said coldly. Clive's smile dropped and he looked at Ianto with an apology on his lips. Ianto shrugged. Mr Ashton grinned and pushed Ianto ahead. They walked at a brisk pace in the electric light until they reached the doors of the gym. The doctor continued walking past shouting a quick "Have a good day!" before disappearing. The female soldier, Emma, shot daggers at Ianto before she left; whispering a quick insult at him before also disappearing. It was just Ianto and Clive in the cool white corridors.
"What's up with Emma?" Ianto asked. "Did her boyfriend dump her again for the fifth time this month?" Alan shrugged with a smirk and opened the gym door. Ianto followed him through and found himself in his training room. His trainer wasn't there yet so Ianto and Clive dropped onto some of the spongy wrestling mats and sat quietly.
"How have you been?" Ianto asked. Clive grinned and brushed his knuckle gently against Ianto's chin.
"Me! What about you? You've been here for two years now Yan. Aren't they ever going to let you out?" He said incredulously. Ianto sighed and Clive shook his head. "It's not right. You should be out of this place. Hanging with people your own age."
"You are my age." Ianto grinned, but Clive shook his head again.
"You know what I mean. Not the whole in-a-prison thing. Hanging out with me! Getting pissed and having sex!" Clive exclaimed. Ianto remained straight faced.
"Me. Getting pissed and having sex with you?" Clive could sense the humour in Ianto's tone.
"If you want." He leered. Ianto laughed and clapped him on the back.
"Well, as appealing as that sounds..." Clive wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I don't think Torchwood will accept that excuse for me to leave this place." Clive pouted and Ianto chuckled again.
"One day Clive. I'll get out of here and you can shag me to your heart's content." Clive's eyes lit up considerably.
"What if you want to be on top?" At Ianto's look Clive stopped talking. "You look the sort..." He trailed off as Ianto raised an eyebrow at him.
"How can you tell?" Ianto whispered, leaning forward so that his breath tickled Clive's ear. The blonde shivered and turned so that their noses brushed with lips barely centimetres apart. Clive suddenly grabbed Ianto shoulders and dragged him down on top of him, rolling as Ianto was pulled flush to his body. Ianto yelped in surprise but didn't pull away. They rolled for a moment until they slowed. Clive was on the bottom with Ianto pressing down on top of him. They were locked in a passionate kiss, both needy and searching. When they needed air Ianto pulled up, breathing heavily. Clove grinned wolfishly.
Ianto awoke with a start. He was lying on his stomach. He pushed himself to his elbows and gasped a lungful of air. His entire body was aching, his senses dizzy. All around there was a constant blaring of alarms that rattled his bruised form. Ianto raised two bleeding hands and slammed them over his ears, but the alarms were only slightly muffled. He opened his eyes but dust and smoke clouded his vision.
With a cry of agony Ianto tore himself to his knees, there was a horrible scream from somewhere in the dark. A stray piece of concrete fell from the damaged roof and hit his shoulder. Ianto didn't feel it; his body was beginning to go numb. A loud crack sounded above and a shower of dust fell.
The roof had fallen in. Ianto had no knowledge of why, only the fear and a slight trace of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could escape. With another scream Ianto was on his feet. He shook his head and stumbled blindly forward, his arms outstretched for the hydraulic glass door that locked his cell. His fingers caught on a sharp shard of glass and Ianto carefully balanced his way through without doing too much damage. A low red glow descended on the long corridors. Emergency lights. Ianto could now see the damage of the cells. The ceiling had collapsed on the right passage and on three of the cells. The smoke was swirling in the eerie red glow and Ianto hacked out a cough to clear his throat. Ianto could pick a route out of the collapsed roof to the surface and glanced around at the dusty cell which had been his home and prison for two years. He took a deep breath and began to climb to freedom.
The concrete cut into his hands with ever tug as he slowly scraped his way upwards. Ianto could still hear screams above, but that did little to deter him attempting to reach them. He wanted to breathe clean and fresh air.
A rock slipped under his grasp and Ianto scrabbled for purchase but all the rocks came away in his hands. He was falling and falling, through the dust and back to where he began.
Torchwood must really not want to let him go, Ianto thought bitterly as he landed back at the bottom, a little worse for wear. Ianto rested against the corridor wall and took in a deep breath and tried to clear his mind.
A warm tingling sensation began to glove his hands. Ianto watched as the cuts and slices in his flesh began to knit back together. That was what Torchwood was so interested in. They cut through bone and watched it grow back, cell by cell. Recorded the times each limp took. Ianto remembered those painful months when his regeneration had first been discovered by Torchwood. That fateful alien grenade that exploded in his hands. Burning away the flesh and leaving only charred limbs. Torchwood had watched with greed and anticipation as he slowly grew back. Then they drugged and dragged him down to the lower levels and branded him as Torchwood property.
If it's alien it's ours. Ianto thought resentfully as he felt the cold metal of his collar press against his neck. Around his neck bounced a small necklace, much like a dog tag used in the army. All Ianto's said was 246. That's all he was. His identity had been striped and that's all that's left of him.
246. That meant he was the 246th victim of Torchwood. The 246th person with no chance, no escape and no say. Because he was now owned. Torchwoods little lap dog.
But the explosion and gunfire from above meant that he did have a chance, at the cost of human lives. Ianto pushed himself to his feet once again, his hands now fully healed. He turned back to the rubble heap and prepared himself to climb. As he took the first step a scream came from behind him.
"NO! I'M SORRY! I'LL GO WITH YOU!" Ianto recognised that voice. It froze his insides and he turned on the spot and charged back down the corridor. "PLEASE. PLEASE DON'T." It was Clive. He was in trouble, and Ianto was going to save him. His heart set to fight and mind racing through his training. Ianto turned the corner and skidded to a stop.
Clive was on the floor. His beautiful face smudged with blood. He was dragging himself away from a towering figure. Ianto breath caught as his eyes met the cold black holes of his opponent. It was a man. A metal man. He took a step forward with the hiss of hydraulics and broke Ianto from his daze.
He charged forwards as the metal mans arm shot downwards, the cold fingers grasping Clive's shoulder and hoisting him into the air. Ianto was running with all his might. His heart leaping from his chest.
But he knew he wouldn't make it. He was too far away. Too far away to save him.
"You will be deleted." The metal man stated. No emotion was felt. No remorse, no sin and no sense. Just pure cold. Clive was dangling helplessly and his head turned, blue eyes meeting Ianto's. He was begging him. Tears spilled down his face and dripped onto the floor and mingled with blood. A metal arm shot outwards, straight through his heart. Clive screamed and Ianto stumbled. Clive slipped to the floor with blood pumping from the hole in his chest. The metal man merely stared ahead as the blood ran down his arm.
Ianto pulled himself towards Clive and pulled him into his lap. His eyes were empty. The life had left him. Ianto wasn't fast enough to save him. Inside Ianto, something snapped. The collar took hold.
Pure anger bubbling to the surface and a growl formed in his throat. Ianto screamed and jumped to his feet with Clive's blood staining his hands. Ianto charged and lashed out with all his might. Each kick and punch was delivered with deadly accuracy. Hitting the joints of the man, making the metal buckle under the force. A sharp kick to the leg to the joint flying backwards and the metal man dropped to his remaining knee. A sharp splinter of metal broke away from the main body and stuck out, pointing at Ianto like a spear.
Ianto clenched his fists and pounded them repeatedly into the metal face; each blow ripped a scream from his soul. He finished with a powerful blow to the neck that send the metal head ripping backwards, exposing wiring and a strange pinkish fluid dribbled from the rim. The beheaded metal shell fell backwards and joined its head on the floor. The metal gleamed evilly in the red light.
Ianto couldn't breathe. His world was darkening around him. The anger still coursed through his veins and he turned quickly and fell to his knees in front of Clive. His Clive. One hour every morning for two years. It seemed like nothing. Ianto felt the sting of tears as they ran down his face. His time with Clive could have been so much more. So much more than this.
If only he had escaped. It was his fault. Ianto screamed in fury. Alone in a corridor with nobody to blame but himself. He sobbed and screamed, then made a decision.
He could heal, but he could also die. He wanted to be in peace. With Clive. Forever.
With a final smile Ianto looked at his reflection in the cyberman's chest and threw himself onto the metal spear. It pierced through his heart and a tear of blood trickled from his mouth. Ianto caught one last look at himself before the colour drained from the world, leaving him only in darkness.
It was Torchwood that killed Ianto Jones.
Thank you for reading.
This is a multi-chaptered story. This isn't the end of Ianto Jones. It's only the beginning.