DOCTOR WHO fucks

Inside the dimly lit Torchwood hub, the glow of Inemoto's screens illuminated his face. His focus was locked on the video feed of the rugby fan's death, replaying the scene over and over. The others stood nearby, watching in tense silence.

Inemoto leaned back, his voice low as he narrated. "And just like that... he fell. Bleeding from his back. No visible attacker. Nothing."

Centhia crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. "Yeah. What do you reckon?"

Inemoto shook his head, a flicker of frustration in his voice. "I... I don't know. It doesn't add up."

His gaze returned to the screen, his fingers working the controls as he slowed the footage to a crawl. He replayed the video again and again, his eyes scanning every detail. Then, something caught his attention. He leaned in closer, squinting.

A chill ran through him. "Wait..." he whispered.

"What?" Centhia asked, stepping closer.

Inemoto's face paled as he ran the footage again, pausing at the crucial moment. He pointed to the screen, his voice trembling. "Look. Every passerby... count their shadows."

Jim, Centhia, and Raul crowded around, their eyes darting to the figures on the screen. Inemoto played the clip, highlighting the pedestrians. One shadow per person. Then the rugby fan came into view.

Jim's stomach sank. "No," he muttered.

The rugby fan had two shadows. One faint and dimmer than the other.

Inemoto's voice was barely above a whisper, his face twisted in horror. "No... no, no. It can't be. I thought they were just a myth."

Jim turned to him, his voice sharp with urgency. "What is it? What are you seeing?"

Inemoto swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving the screen. "Count the shadows."

They all focused on the video, and the realization hit them like a punch to the gut. The rugby fan's second shadow moved subtly, unnaturally.

"It's the Vashta Nerada," Inemoto said, his voice cracking under the weight of the words.

The room fell silent, the name hanging in the air like a death sentence.

Jim's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "No. It can't be. The Doctor said the Vashta Nerada completely strip you of your flesh, right down to your bones. This guy... he wasn't eaten alive."

Inemoto leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know about anything else, but it's got to be them," he said, his voice edged with resignation.

Raul, arms crossed, added grimly, "They must have come through the Rift. No other explanation."

"Obviously," Inemoto agreed, his tone sharp. "There's no such large cluster of Vashta Nerada here naturally. They don't just... show up like this."

Jim's face darkened, his memories rushing back. "The Doctor once told me... that the day I saw a Vashta Nerada, I should run. And never look back."

The weight of his words settled heavily over the room. For a moment, no one spoke, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Then Centhia broke the silence, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Grim," she said, her tone laced with defiance. "But we're Torchwood. Nothing phases us. So, four eyes," she nodded toward Inemoto, "how are we going to locate a shadow... out of shadows?"

Inemoto blinked, momentarily thrown by her confidence, but then his mind shifted into gear. He tapped a few keys, his expression sharpening as an idea took shape.

"With a light," he said slowly, his voice gathering momentum, "a light bright enough to cast out all the shadows... leaving the odd one out."

Centhia raised a brow. "Sounds poetic. You got something that bright in your toy box?"

Inemoto smirked, his confidence returning. "I might. But it's going to need a bit of tweaking."

Jim straightened, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. "Then let's get to it. We don't have time to waste. If the Vashta Nerada are here, we need to stop them—before anyone else dies."

Inemoto's fingers flew across the keyboard, his expression a mixture of focus and rebellion. "The Americans aren't going to like this," he muttered, almost to himself, "but I've got to hack into their AquaPolitica satellite."

Centhia leaned in, watching the lines of code scroll on the screen. "AquaPolitica? Isn't that their environmental monitoring satellite?"

"Yeah," Inemoto replied without looking up, his voice clipped with concentration. "It's designed to measure oceanic conditions—light levels, temperature, salinity—but it's equipped with one hell of a powerful light array for underwater imaging. If I can reroute control and drop its orbit a little, I can position it over Cardiff. It'll flood the area with enough concentrated light to highlight anything unnatural, including a rogue shadow."

Jim raised an eyebrow, impressed but wary. "And the Americans? They're not going to notice you taking over their multi-billion-dollar tech?"

Inemoto smirked, his confidence evident. "Oh, they'll notice. But by the time they figure out what's happening, we'll already have what we need. Torchwood's made a career out of bending rules."

Raul chuckled softly. "You mean breaking them."

Inemoto shrugged. "Semantics."

Jim folded his arms, watching the code flash across the screen. "And how long before we're up and running?"

"Give me fifteen minutes," Inemoto said, typing furiously. "Maybe ten, if the Pentagon doesn't throw me a curveball."

Centhia grinned, leaning against the console. "You're a reckless genius, four eyes.

Inemoto finally gained control of the satellite, his screen displaying confirmation of the successful override. He adjusted its orbit, lowering it strategically over Cardiff. A brilliant light beamed down, flooding the city's dim evening streets and casting away every shadow.

On his screen, the system displayed: "Searching for anomalies..."

Moments later, the result appeared: "No anomalies found."

Frustrated but undeterred, Inemoto redirected the light to another location—Roath Park. The bright beam swept across the park, illuminating its paths and greenery in stark detail. The system repeated: "Searching for anomalies..."

Again, the result came back: "No anomalies found."

With a grim determination, Inemoto adjusted the satellite's focus one more time, targeting Canton. The light pierced through the district, brightening the streets below as pedestrians squinted in confusion. This time, the screen flashed: "Anomaly detected."

"Got something," Inemoto announced, his voice tight with urgency. He zoomed in on the live feed, bringing the scene into focus. It was just outside The Gilded Anchor, a bustling bar in Canton.

Two figures were visible in the feed—one standing casually against the wall, the other pacing nearby. Inemoto's voice dropped. "That guy leaning on the wall... he has two shadows."

Centhia's eyes widened, and she grabbed her gear. "That's our Vashta Nerada host. Let's move."

Their black, tinted car sped through the streets with Centhia at the wheel, maneuvering effortlessly through the evening traffic. Moments later, they pulled up in front of The Gilded Anchor.

Centhia, Raul, and Jim stepped out of the car, each wearing earpieces. As they approached the location, they froze. The host was already dead, slumped against the wall, blood trickling from his eyes.

Jim's voice was heavy with regret. "We were too late..."

A sudden scream pierced the air from the opposite side of the street. The team spun around and ran toward the sound. When they arrived, they found another body—lifeless, crumpled on the pavement.

"What the hell is going on?" Jim muttered, confusion and frustration etched on his face.

Centhia pressed a finger to her earpiece, her voice urgent. "Inemoto, increase the light. People are dropping like flies out here!"

From above, the brightness intensified, bathing the area in a stark, almost unnatural glow. The team scanned their surroundings, their eyes darting, searching desperately for the source of the other shadow.

Suddenly, as Jim's eyes scanned the area, they landed on Raul. His breath caught in his throat. Raul had a shadow—darker and sharper than it should have been under the intense light. The stark contrast made it unmistakable.

Jim gestured urgently to Centhia, pointing at Raul. When she turned and saw it, her face went pale with horror. Her jaw tightened as the weight of what she needed to do settled over her.

Raul, oblivious at first, noticed their expressions. Then, following their gaze, he looked down. His face twisted in terror as he realized what they had seen.

"No... no, no, no," Raul stammered, backing away slightly, panic overtaking him.

Centhia's voice trembled but remained steady. "Raul, I'm so sorry. Please, stand still." Her hand dove into her pocket and pulled out a small metallic cube, its surface glinting under the bright light.

Raul's voice broke into desperate pleading. "No! Centhia, please, don't do this. There has to be another way!"

Before Raul could move, Centhia threw the cube to the ground at his feet.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" Jim shouted, stepping forward, but it was too late.

The cube activated with a low hum, expanding into a swirling vortex of energy. Raul screamed as the dark shadow seemed to peel away from him, its form resisting as it was pulled into the cube. Then Raul's body, still entwined with the shadow, followed.

In a flash, the vortex collapsed, and the cube snapped shut, now humming faintly in Centhia's trembling hand.

Jim stared in horror, his face a mix of shock and rising anger. "What... what did you do?" he demanded, his voice trembling with disbelief.

Centhia stood frozen for a moment, the metallic cube still clutched tightly in her hand. Her eyes were glassy with emotion, and her voice wavered as she answered, "There was no other way." She looked down, visibly shaken. "I... I had to freeze him in a time lock before he ended up like the others."

Jim took a step closer, his voice rising. "A time lock? You just trapped him in there—alive?"

Centhia's jaw clenched, and she finally looked up at him, her eyes burning with frustration and sorrow. "Yes, alive! It was that or watch the Vashta Nerada tear him apart! He was already marked. Don't you get it, Jim? There was no other way."

The weight of her words hung in the air, but Jim's expression remained tight, anger and helplessness etched into every line of his face.

Back at Inemoto's station, the search for shadowy anomalies continued on his screen. The satellite's feed swept through Cardiff, block by block, but no other anomalies appeared. The glowing text on his monitor confirmed: No further anomalies detected.

Inemoto leaned back in his chair, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He spoke into his headset, his voice steady but tinged with weariness. "Guys, there's nothing else. No other anomalies detected. You can come back."

Inemoto stood up from his chair, frustration and sorrow etched across his face. The weight of what had happened to Raul pressed heavily on him. He reached for the cookie jar on the desk, pulling out a cookie and biting into it absentmindedly.

Suddenly, the dark brown alien cat, Merlin, appeared from seemingly nowhere, letting out a plaintive cry. Its large, shimmering eyes were filled with a desperate, almost comical cuteness as it stared at the cookie in Inemoto's hand.

Inemoto sighed, his expression softening. "It's alright, Merlin. You can have it," he said, breaking off half of the cookie and handing it to the creature.

Merlin purred contentedly, nibbling on the cookie while perched beside Inemoto. The two shared the moment in silence,.

As they quietly ate, the sound of the pavement stone shifting echoed through the hub. Jim and Centhia emerged, stepping down into the dimly lit space, their faces shadowed with the weight of the encounter above.

As they sat in the somber silence, the weight of Raul's fate pressing heavily on them, Centhia broke the quiet. "What are we going to do?" she asked, her voice low and filled with uncertainty.

Inemoto shook his head, his usual sharpness dulled by frustration and sorrow.

Jim, lost in thought, finally spoke. "The only person who could possibly free him from the Vashta Nerada... is the Doctor. We need to find the Doctor."

Inemoto frowned, skeptical. "How? How are we supposed to find him?"

Jim straightened, determination lighting up his eyes. "I have his space-time phone number. If anyone can trace it, it's going to be Torchwood."

Inemoto raised an eyebrow. "Even if we trace the signal, what then? It's a time machine, Jim. The TARDIS could be millions of years in the future—or the past! And don't forget, the two vortex manipulators we have are broken. The Doctor not wanting us to mess his precious timeline, made sure of that."

Jim smirked, his confidence unwavering. "Then we'll fix them."

Inemoto threw his hands up, exasperated. "Do you have any idea how ridiculously complicated time travel technology is?"

Jim grinned, leaning in slightly. "Nope. But I reckon you do."

Centhia let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head at Jim's boldness. Even Inemoto, despite his frustration, cracked a faint smile.

Jim pressed on, his voice firm. "And if we can't fix them ourselves, we'll find someone who can. There's always someone out there. But first, we have to find the Doctor."

Centhia nodded, her resolve returning. "Alright, Jim. Let's find the Doctor."

Inemoto sighed but gave a reluctant nod of agreement. "Fine. Let's do this."

As the group sat in tense contemplation, Inemoto's phone buzzed unexpectedly, displaying an unknown UK number. His brow furrowed with suspicion, but after a moment's hesitation, he answered.

"Inemoto speaking. Who is this?"

On the other end, a cold, rough voice responded, sending a chill through the room. "This is Greg Howard, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom."

Inemoto's eyes, narrowed with caution, widened in shock. Jim, catching the shift in his expression, straightened with visible concern.

The Prime Minister continued, his tone clipped and authoritative. "The Pentagon has informed us that one of their satellites was hacked—by one of ours. MI6 traced the encrypted signal, and it led straight to you. May I ask for what purpose you did this?"

Inemoto froze, his mind racing. Then, summoning his nerve, he replied steadily, "For the King's safety, sir."

A brief pause followed, the silence heavy with tension. Finally, the Prime Minister's voice returned, cool and deliberate. "Correct. You're still classified. Don't make me regret it."

The line went dead.

For a moment, the room was silent. Then, unexpectedly, Inemoto began to laugh—a release of tension that bordered on hysteria. He leaned back in his chair, clutching his stomach.

Jim frowned, watching him warily. "What the hell is so funny?"

Inemoto, catching his breath, wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "I just told the Prime Minister of the UK that I hacked a U.S. satellite for the King's safety, and he bought it! I'm either the luckiest man alive or completely doomed."

Centhia smirked, crossing her arms. "Let's hope it's the first one, four eyes."