JACK;; what kind of animal are we;;JOHN

[Captain John Hart]

HEADER TO COME
takes place during 19th century france, the napoleonic wars
near the first time everyone's favourite captains met.

[Captain John Hart]

<sup>it should have been obvious to him that this job would fit him like glove. the traveling, the freedom, the power; it was all so intoxicating. spending his youth mostly alone on some godforsaken desert just was not his kind of thing. as soon as he heard about this organization, oh he couldn't have been more than his mid twenties, he knew he had to check it all out. it wasn't hard for him to get in, in fact, it was extremely easy. breeze through a bit of training, shot this, do that, kill him, do this; it was like asking a bird to fly. this was the work that john hart -- of course he wasn't called this quiet yet -- was made to do. he supposed it had something to do with the fact that he was already sort of doing this stuff. he had been traveling around the planet and a couple others for the past years, unsure really what to do with himself, so the easily-bored-out-of-his-mind man just began to use the world and its people as his play things. it was so easy sometimes that it was almost pathetic. over the years he could feel his patience or little respect for life at all dwindling. they were all so stupid and unimportant. really, would the universe miss one person if they died? how about twenty? how about a thousand? it made him want to laugh if everyone ever considered answering 'yes'. the planets would keep turning, the sun would keep burning and life would still be the biggest waste of matter ever created. he firmly believed this. so what was their left to do with all this useless space but have some fun with it all?

as he strolled around the walkways of some nineteenth century french garden, occasionally passing some dashing young men or elegantly dressed women that all looked simply delicious, he had to try to pull his head out of his thoughts and remember just what he was supposed to be doing. he stopped for a second by some ridiculously big statue, resting his hands on his hips with the sort of aura of cocky confidence you would see in, well, john. he really could not recall just what the hell he and his time agency partner were supposed to be doing. speaking of that, where was he? john looked around casually, blinking slowly as he did. surely he hadn't misplaced him. he shrugged his shoulders a little, the surprisingly comfortable napoleonic wars jacket he had come upon a bit ago -- meaning stripped from a dead body in the middle of a battle -- letting him blend in to his surroundings quiet nicely, and figured it didn't matter much. the man he had been partnered with was of no concern to him. he had so much work to do it was exhausting. maybe he'd take a nap later.

"hmm, ah yes," he mumbled to himself before fishing a simple looking device out of his pocket. it was made of some sort of plexi-metal and had a single little button on it. with some cheerful humming and a pleasant little. he pressed the button, igniting the series of explosives his partner had been setting up around the buildings. hopefully he had completed his job by now because just out of the reach of himself, hugely powerful bombs were making the lovely estate into a pile of rumble. that was what he was supposed to be doing. he and the man who would soon to be known as jack harkness had to destroy a ship from the planet t'plei. those delightful t'plei aliens were wandering around the estate surely, so he and his partner had to take care of them; ie: squish the roaches. how simply splendid.</sup>