"Hyperdimensional jerks," Ianto repeated. That was amusing, wasn't it? He was justified in feeling like he was about to start laughing uncontrollably. Nope, that wasn't hysteria at all. "They, ah, sound like prime suspects." As if he was in any way equipped to make judgements about what such beings would do. Beings that very definitely weren't supposed to exist. Ianto was used to the extraordinary, but everything was bound by rules and logic. And it had all worked so very well until the Cybermen had come crashing through from another Earth. Torchwood hadn't known shit about dimensions. Torchwood, apparently, hadn't known shit about anything. Where did that leave Ianto? Way behind this guy, this teenager who talked about going through rifts like that was something normal and acceptable, this teenager who seemed to be acquainted with beings more powerful than Torchwood had ever imagined -- because Torchwood had been too busy granting power to itself.