(Welcome Outlaw Gentleman and Shady Ladies to The Harkness Files. This story takes place during the same time as my other tale, A Night In Killcrest Manor. This is the journey of Jack Harkness, as he investigates the break in at the Black Archive. As a result, it is highly recommended that you read the beginning of that story. This spin off is co-written by my lovely friend BannerFanner. Chapters will be short but hopefully sweet. As always, leave a review if you liked it. Most importantly, enjoy)

To Jack Harkness, Vortex Manipulator travel always felt like being pulled in every direction at once. One felt almost liquid as everything spun around them. Eras, worlds, universes and all sped by in the blink of an eye that felt like an eternity. It was like the snap of a finger, in the time of which, he lived a million life times.

He had always done his best thinking in transit like that. All that time, all that distorted space, gave a man the silence to really concentrate on the tough questions.

Right now, he had a lot of those. Kate Stewart had asked his help on a vital mission. There had been a violent break in at the Black Archive, and a vortex manipulator had been stolen. Only one calling card was left behind, with a name upon it: The Great Intelligence Institute.

Kate had sent him to find The Doctor, and he would. He had other business however. A wise man once told him to know his enemy as well as his friend. If he was to help The Doctor with this new threat, then he was going to need information. Answer to a question. That question? Who, or what is The Great Intelligence Institute. What was its plan, and why did it need a vortex manipulator?

He had his own suspicions. A Time Lord perhaps? It would not surprise him. The Doctor claimed to be the last Time Lord, though he was not. There were others, and they were not as benevolent as the renegade saviour. The Master was one, a madman (or woman if the latest rumours were true) bent on control, destruction and everything in between. The Valeyard was another, supposedly The Doctor's final, evil, regeneration. Jack however, believed that he was a fake, just another Time Lord gone insane with power. If those could exist, others could have escaped the slaughter of The Time War. Torchwood tried to track many of them, but it was nearly impossible.

Other than that, other threats just as powerful existed. Most were unknown but just as dangerous as a Time Lord. Regardless of what or who had done this, Jack had to find them and what they were up to. He never went into a fight blind. Well...there was that one time in Tijuana but that was a bit different. He could only think of one place to start.

When crimes were committed in the universe, one organization wanted to know about it, be a part of the investigation, and most importantly, become so mired in paper work and bureaucracy that they never got around to solving it; the Shadow Proclamation. That was his destination, and with a zap he landed.

It took a moment for his head to stop spinning, and once it had Jack strode confidently out of the broom closet which he had accidentally landed in. Outside the door, a trio of Judoon had their guns trained on him, their ugly rhino faces contorted into sneers.

"Whoa there, boys," said Jack, holding up his hands. "I come in peace. I need to talk to-"

"Me, I presume." From behind a wall, the Shadow Architect appeared. She slinked forth, her red eyes sharp and locked on him, neither angry nor afraid, but perhaps a little...uneasy - though it never reached the rest of her milk-white face.

"You don't presume anything. You know what I'm here for." Jack was well aware of her information-gathering abilities.

"I'm afraid I do." The Shadow Architect now crossed through the trio of Judoon. They lowered their weapons ever so slightly. "A great crime has been committed; the theft of a vortex manipulator. In the wrong hands...well, you know the rest. We have a suspect, a Time Lord known as the Corsair. Fitting, I should think. We believe she would have both the means and inclination to steal this vortex manipulator, as it is not known whether she still has possession of a TARDIS."

"Where can I find her?" he did not exactly say it, but his intentions were clear.

"Well, if you intend to go after her yourself, then there's not a lot we can do for you," said the Shadow Architect, smugness threatening to push through her nonchalant demeanour.

"I understand The Proclamation's hesitation at helping 'private investigators" Jack quoted with his fingers.

"It is prohibited under Code five-nine-two-six-three," the burly Judoon interrupted authoritatively.

"Thankyou," Jack whispered with narrowed eyes, "however, you and I have been in business for a long time. I would think certain allowances could be made."

"Oh it is not that, Captain," she smirked disingenuously, "we have sent five of our most skilled agents after her. None have returned in one piece. For you to peruse the Corsair... it is suicide." He could see her red eyes dilate. She was actually rattled. He had never seen that before.

She also knew he wouldn't be dissuaded.

"But..." Her eyes narrowed, and she looked to the ceiling, where the infinite darkness of space could be seen through the glass.

"What?" asked Jack. And that's when it started, the feeling of butterflies thrashing about in his stomach, the goosebumps shooting up on his arms and legs, his hairs standing erect. The Shadow Architect was saying something, but he couldn't hear a word over the rush of blood in his ears. The world went blurry, then white, before finally disappearing altogether. Jack was gone.

The Shadow Architect cursed in some ancient language and stormed away from the now empty hall. A servant girl trotted up to her.

"Someone took him," said the Shadow Architect. "I can't believe it. On top of stealing a vortex manipulator and interrupting my lunch, someone's just kidnapped Captain Jack Harkness."

The Dalek capital ship was buzzing with dark activity. The bridge control room was bathed in red lights as the troops trundled around. All of them were shaped like enormous metal salt shakers. Their round heads swivelled, their singular, cycolptic eye stalks resting on a man, their leader.

Their built in guns twitched nervously. Despite that all of their fear had been removed, the Daleks still knew that to disappoint Davros was to die.

The Dalek all-father looked nearly human at first glance, although his lower body had long ago been replaced by the same rolling monstrosity that all his people inhabited. His upper body was old and haggard, a mass of metal and wires jutting from his head and neck, keeping him alive. His eyes were melted shut; a glowing, blue, third eye had been implanted instead.

He rolled over to one of the screens, staring up at it. He pointed his single, iron hand at the screen.

"Have we acquired the target?" his gargled, metallic voice echoed.

"Jack Harkness has been successfully abducted," one of his crew's shrill, computerised tone replied.

"Excellent," Davros whispered, "have him sent to the brig until I am ready for him."

"What of the other prisoners being transported to Skaro for mutation?" a different, yet identical Dalek questioned.

"We have who we need. Exterminate them," Davros replied coldly. He flipped a switch on his console, syncing to the audio of the cells. Glorious screams echoed through the speakers, filling the command center. He shut his eye in the rapturous beauty of their deaths.

"And the Shadow Proclamation?"

"The Judoon are of no consequence. Destroy any ships foolish enough to follow." Davros watched as one of the screens changed to the face of his old enemy, one of many, Jack Harkness. "Let us find out what you and the Doctor have done to my children," he spat, his fist smacking the console. No one dared to tamper with his Daleks and live to tell about it. Not even the Doctor.