Norton loves a good party. And even a bad party is better than staying home alone. So he attends the town's disappointingly wholesome New Year's Eve celebration. With a cup of hot cocoa in his hand and the be-lighted ball about to drop, Norton finds himself missing the Romilly Club in Soho. Now there was an institution that knew how to throw a properly debauched party. Up until a police raid closed the place down.
But he's enjoying himself despite the lack of handsome ommes to kiss, up until the clock strikes twelve, the ball drops, and he suddenly feels himself drifting away. The cup of hot cocoa falls from his limp fingers and splashes across the pavement.
There's a memory not his. More than a memory, a now that's not his. A red telephone, the cord wrapped around his (not his) finger. Urgency. Orders to put up roadblocks. And then, after a minute, Norton returns to the here and now, staring at the ground where bits of confetti soak up spilled hot cocoa.
"What the Mildred Pierce?"
II. In the Valley of the Dolls We Sleep
The adverts seem innocuous at first. Norton thinks idly that he might pop by sometime. He could use a few more ties, maybe a dapper hat. But day after day passed without him getting around to it. And the longer he went without going, the more he kept hearing reminders on the radio and the telly, until it reached a point where he certainly wasn't going to go there for shopping because it was obvious that something strange, unnerving, and probably dangerous was going on.
He's absolutely going to go there to investigate instead.
Norton is browsing the selection of gentleman's hats (might as well look while he's here, until something interesting happens) when...something interesting happens. The shop assistants collapse like discarded puppets and the shop mannequins start to move. Norton backs away slowly, grabs the arm of the nearest person who's a) conscious, and b) flesh and blood.
"Don't panic, but I think these are Autons and they're going to kill us unless we can get out of here."
***
By the end of the day, Norton's thirsty and beginning to get tired. Even while hidden, his heart's been pounding. Water is becoming a priority. He tried to get a drink from the sink in the loo a few hours ago, but the mannequins ran him off. He has a plan now, though and whispers to his companion.
"Let's one of us lure the mannequins that are in the loo out of the loo, then the other one slips in and locks the door so no other mannequins can wander in. Then the bait, if they should survive, circles back around, gives a quiet secret knock or something of the sort, and is let in. Then we'll have water and a safe hiding place while we work out what to do next." He's thinking fire, if he can work out a way to keep himself from being burned alive along with the mannequins.
IV. It's Freezing and I Am Watching You Shovel Snow
It never snowed much in London and when it did it was never Norton's job to deal with it, so when a storm dumps what seems to him an unreasonable amount of snow all at once, he opts to ignore the problem and hope it will go away eventually. He's not been driving much anyway, since last time he tried he almost hit another car when he turned a corner and instinctively started driving down the left.
Then, as the last straw, the power in his house flickers and goes out. He tries to ignore that too, for a few hours, but as the house gets colder and colder and the sun starts to grow low on the horizon, he bundles up to see if there's anyone in the neighbourhood who has power, or maybe some chopped wood he can burn in his mostly decorative fireplace. Damn new houses with their new central heating. A gas fire might poison you but it doesn't rely on electricity to circulate hot air.
He walks up the street to the first house he sees that appears to have lights on, and knocks on the door.
Norton Folgate | Torchwood
Norton loves a good party. And even a bad party is better than staying home alone. So he attends the town's disappointingly wholesome New Year's Eve celebration. With a cup of hot cocoa in his hand and the be-lighted ball about to drop, Norton finds himself missing the Romilly Club in Soho. Now there was an institution that knew how to throw a properly debauched party. Up until a police raid closed the place down.
But he's enjoying himself despite the lack of handsome ommes to kiss, up until the clock strikes twelve, the ball drops, and he suddenly feels himself drifting away. The cup of hot cocoa falls from his limp fingers and splashes across the pavement.
There's a memory not his. More than a memory, a now that's not his. A red telephone, the cord wrapped around his (not his) finger. Urgency. Orders to put up roadblocks. And then, after a minute, Norton returns to the here and now, staring at the ground where bits of confetti soak up spilled hot cocoa.
"What the Mildred Pierce?"
II. In the Valley of the Dolls We Sleep
The adverts seem innocuous at first. Norton thinks idly that he might pop by sometime. He could use a few more ties, maybe a dapper hat. But day after day passed without him getting around to it. And the longer he went without going, the more he kept hearing reminders on the radio and the telly, until it reached a point where he certainly wasn't going to go there for shopping because it was obvious that something strange, unnerving, and probably dangerous was going on.
He's absolutely going to go there to investigate instead.
Norton is browsing the selection of gentleman's hats (might as well look while he's here, until something interesting happens) when...something interesting happens. The shop assistants collapse like discarded puppets and the shop mannequins start to move. Norton backs away slowly, grabs the arm of the nearest person who's a) conscious, and b) flesh and blood.
"Don't panic, but I think these are Autons and they're going to kill us unless we can get out of here."
***
By the end of the day, Norton's thirsty and beginning to get tired. Even while hidden, his heart's been pounding. Water is becoming a priority. He tried to get a drink from the sink in the loo a few hours ago, but the mannequins ran him off. He has a plan now, though and whispers to his companion.
"Let's one of us lure the mannequins that are in the loo out of the loo, then the other one slips in and locks the door so no other mannequins can wander in. Then the bait, if they should survive, circles back around, gives a quiet secret knock or something of the sort, and is let in. Then we'll have water and a safe hiding place while we work out what to do next." He's thinking fire, if he can work out a way to keep himself from being burned alive along with the mannequins.
IV. It's Freezing and I Am Watching You Shovel Snow
It never snowed much in London and when it did it was never Norton's job to deal with it, so when a storm dumps what seems to him an unreasonable amount of snow all at once, he opts to ignore the problem and hope it will go away eventually. He's not been driving much anyway, since last time he tried he almost hit another car when he turned a corner and instinctively started driving down the left.
Then, as the last straw, the power in his house flickers and goes out. He tries to ignore that too, for a few hours, but as the house gets colder and colder and the sun starts to grow low on the horizon, he bundles up to see if there's anyone in the neighbourhood who has power, or maybe some chopped wood he can burn in his mostly decorative fireplace. Damn new houses with their new central heating. A gas fire might poison you but it doesn't rely on electricity to circulate hot air.
He walks up the street to the first house he sees that appears to have lights on, and knocks on the door.