starter for @justalonelymonster
He was starting to wonder if he could emancipate himself from his very species. It would be easier to just... call himself something other than human. of course, being human was why he had gotten his job. It wasn’t as though Torchwood hired aliens. And he had been so very human when he first signed on to Canary Wharf. Naive, ready to impress, eager to dig into the universe and find out how aliens made all of their amazing technology work.
Now, however, bullet-proof, air-tight container in hand and having to show his Torchwood I.D. badge to get into the bloody Glasgow Botanical Gardens, he was heavily considering trying to find a way to call himself something other than a human being.
Because only human beings, only this stupid, ignorant little race, would find a bright, neon-glowing plant in the middle of a crater and decide to plant it in a public garden for public viewing of it’s pretty little death petals. The one day the car gets stuck in traffic--and he still considered that a heavy conspiracy, if he was asked, the Scots were out to get them--and the police get there first, they decided to claim it property of their department, and kept quiet about the findings. “It’s just an empty crater, nothing in it,” they had told him. And now five people were dead with green skin and plant spores in their lungs, and the one thing they had in common was a visit to this mysterious plant.
Lukas rushed through the small line once he was cleared, launching over the queue (much to the anger of the Garden security guard manning the station) shouting “TORCHWOOD!” as he passed at top speed. He reached up to press his comm, breath ragged.
“They’re still running around!”
“They’ve got me locked in the tea cupboard!”
“Greer, not my problem right now! Don’t inhale the spores!”
Zombie, dead plant people. Starve the host plant of oxygen and they would collapse. In theory.
“They’ve got vine fingers, Lukas!”
He forced his feet to carry him faster through the Gardens. His team was at risk, on the line, and he wouldn’t lose them to some damn alien fungus. Signs pointing to the “New, Fantastical” exhibit directed him on his mission, forcing him to part crowds with his large stature, screaming his affiliation the whole way in the hopes that it would get people to move faster.
The plant sat on a white, marble pedestal, glowing softly and emitting low levels of radiation, if the scanner was any proper indicator. It’s crowd was small for the midday “rush,” only about a dozen or so people leaning in close to admire it’s otherworldly beauty.
“Get out of my way!” He screamed, and most were jostled enough to turn and startled enough to move. One young man seemed completely oblivious where he stood right in Lukas’ way, and haste won out. He barreled into the man and toppled them both over, knocking the plant from the pedestal and into nearby fake foliage. Bright pink spores erupted like wildfire and in his hurry Lukas grabbed the gas mask on his arm and pressed it onto the man’s mouth. He took a deep breath, holding it, and slammed the plant within the confines of the container.
It began pulsing wildly, the spores almost angry at being trapped, and the leaves were trembling as the plant itself began starving. It lurched towards the glass and where it would have touched him became hot, burning his fingertips through the barrier. But Lukas held on. If he dropped it, they may not have a second chance. With a final wheezing noise the plant began to rapidly decay from the roots up, going from a bright, vivid multicolor to molded greys and greens, before turning black and exploding in a puff of spores and ash.
Only when the dust settled did Lukas let go, the exertion of his efforts finally catching up with him, and he looked down to the man he was quite literally on top of. “You can remove the mask now. You’re safe.” He thought to say through gasping breaths. A weak little laugh tumbled from his throat. “I think.”
