I always seem to be putting Scott in most of the emotional spirals. Sorry, Scott fans. On the plus side, the next two after this are also Scott centric, so win-win?
AO3 here
Days: One ~ Two
Warnings for: no real warnings this time, just Scott being a little depressed.
Everyone has a mask that they put on like armour to hide themselves from the world.
Tagging: @thunder-tober @skymaiden32 (just going to put it out there that if you want to be tagged in any future Thundertober pieces, or future pieces in general, let me know and I'll tag you too!)
Tropical breeze blew through unkempt locks. He had quite taken to hiking recently. He wondered if the others had noticed… No, of course they had noticed. Virgil’s worried glances, Gordon’s offers of company, John’s calls that came the moment Scott had made it to the top. They could all sense something was wrong, but they all had the respect of leaving Scott alone to decide if and when to inform them.
They all trusted that he would.
The thing with falling was that it was a lot like flying. Scott figured that was probably why he allowed himself to plummet so far before picking himself back up. The perception was deceptive; whenever he fell, it often felt like there was a warm embrace awaiting him at the end. After so many descents, he knew there was nothing but a soul-crushing oblivion at rock bottom, but Scott accepted the fall every goddamn time because, in these specific moments, when the fall was already underway, he genuinely believed he deserved it.
These moments of self-destruction were never random. They always had a trigger. This time, it was from (what Scott would have called) a failed rescue.
John had been trying to convince him otherwise on the entire journey home, but Scott hadn’t listened.
Yes, his space brother had a point in claiming that no-one had perished in the disaster, but that didn’t equate a success. Not in his eyes.
They had managed to save everyone, but Scott had been stubborn and there had been subsequent costs.
“We’ve got to get these people out now, Virg.”
“Scott, if we move too fast, the whole thing is at risk of collapsing. This is the safer—”
“If we don’t act now, safer won’t matter because there won’t be anyone in there left to save!”
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the memory of that moment came back to him in vivid colours and sounds. He’d never be free of that mistake, just like he’d never be free of any of the other mistakes he’d made.
No-one died, but Scott had still managed to fuck it up.
He pretended to be okay for the journey home, listening and nodding away as John tried valiantly to reassure him that all was not lost. Scott didn’t believe a word of it, but John didn’t need to know that. He had placed the mask on, hoping his brothers wouldn’t be able to see through it.
The reason he had hiked up to the summit was so he didn’t have to keep pretending.
Here, he could let that shield down for a while.
Here, with only the sky and sea to view for miles and miles, Scott could allow himself to be himself.
If Scott were ever asked where this defence had come from, or when it had developed, he wouldn’t have been able to give a straightforward answer. Perhaps he’d always had this guard up, or perhaps he’d built it up in the months following Dad’s disappearance.
He didn’t know.
He didn’t care.
Scott was glad for the mask. It meant no-one else worried. It meant that he could stay safe and, so long as the armour remained up, he could not only protect himself from the world but also those around him from himself too.
He didn’t want to see Virgil’s worried eyes scanning over him every five seconds. He didn’t want Gordon to constantly feel like he needed to be around him just in case. He didn’t want John constantly checking up on him.
His brothers weren’t his babysitters, and as much as he personally hated it, he hated the idea of being a burden to them more.
The armour was beautiful at keeping his true feelings and thoughts hidden, so everyone could go on as normal, but that only worked when everyone believed the wall of lies that Scott had built up. Whilst he had hoped his brothers hadn’t seen through his armour, from their concern showed earlier it was clear that they had. Again, Scott blamed himself for that. Maybe the mask wasn’t good enough this time.
Maybe, because he didn’t believe it, no-one else would.
He berated himself.
There were whispered curses under his breath as seagulls cried overhead.
Had to do better.
Had to be better.
Scott slumped against one of the rocks, unconcerned over the uncomfortableness of the jagged ground beneath him. He pulled his knees up to his chest, ignoring the tears that ran down his cheeks.
At least for now, alone on that peak, he could let the armour fall.
Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn @idontknowreallywhy (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)
Thundertober Day 5: Pilot
Scott’s memories of his last day in the Air Force.
Continuity: TAG
------
Scott breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally able to collapse onto the hard mattress of his bunk, careful not to injure his broken arm as he fell any further. His bunkmate, Alex Birch, sat on a nearby chair, raised an eyebrow. “How’d it go with the boss?”
“I don’t know, Alex…” He sighed, running his uninjured hand down his tired face. “I don’t know what to make of all of this. I just feel so…” He paused, trying to find the right phrase. “...jumbled still.”
It had been just a week since Scott’s miraculous return from the brink of death in Bereznik. Not long enough, if you asked Alex’s opinion. Between Scott losing Greg Hodge, his navigator, in the crash, being held prisoner and tortured, and somehow crossing the wilderness back to base after escaping on his own without help…
It was too much. “No wonder you feel that way.” Alex commented, not ashamed of the sadness in his tone. “You’ve been through hell and back.” He chuckled humourlessly. “I’d be a bit jumbled too.”
Scott sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “The Commander outright ordered me to leave today. Take a break. Said he wouldn’t be surprised if I quit completely. Even offered to give me an honourable discharge if I did.”
“And?” Alex probed, turning his chair so he was facing his friend on the bunk. He immediately took notice of how exhausted Scott looked. “What will you do? After your leave I mean?”
His friend sat up slowly, staring ahead at the wall. “I… I don’t know.” He admitted. “A part of me wants to call it quits and stay safe for my family,” Scott explained. “But the other part of me loves flying more than anything.” He finally looked over at his friend. “Even after all of that, I can’t let it go just like that.”
“I know, Ace…” Alex smiled sympathetically, reverting to the squad nicknames for some sense of normality. He hummed. “Doesn’t your Dad’s company specialise in aerospace? Maybe you could get a job as a test pilot there?”
For the first time in what felt like years, Scott smiled. “The whole reason I signed up to the USAF in the first place was to avoid leaning on the family name, Spins.” He chuckled.
“I know,” Alex smirked, laughing. “Just throwing the idea out there.” He sobered up, looking seriously to his friend now. “But whatever choice you make, whatever path you’re on, I’m sure it’ll be your true calling in life.”
“Yeah…” Scott replied. “I guess it will be.”
------
He broke out of the memory, now staring focussed at what had reminded him of that fateful day. The base he had once been stationed at, now closed down due to ground subsidence in the area. International Rescue had been called to get to some officers who had been swallowed up by the very earth beneath their feet. On his right, Virgil stood faithfully, looking worriedly between Scott and the dilapidated base. “Are you okay, Scott?”
“Yeah.” He breathed out, a little too quiet for his brother to hear. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He repeated, louder this time. “The rescue’s over now, anyway…”
“Then,” Virgil began, puzzled. “Why are we still here?”
“The Commander of the base is Alex Birch, right?”
“According to John, yeah…” The pilot of Thunderbird 2 answered, before his eyes widened in realisation, watching the crowd of officers part to reveal the Commander himself, walking towards them. “Wait, wasn’t he in your-”
“My squadron? Yep.” Scott replied. “He was also the one who helped me the most after…” He paused, drawing himself back from those painful memories. “You know…” Virgil knew. He always did.
Alex stopped in front of the two brothers, giving Scott a respectful salute. One that Scott was all too happy to return. “Commander Tracy.”
“Commander Birch.” Scott replied. “I’d like you to meet Virgil, my brother.”
Alex’s eyes lit up in recognition as he shook Virgil’s hand. “Ah, so you’re the one I’d heard so much about from Ace here back in the day.”
Virgil chuckled. “In that case, I hope I lived up to expectations.”
“More than that.” Birch smiled at him. “You knocked them out of the park with that rescue. I can see Scott’s heroism truly is a family trait.” The grin turned melancholy. “You keep taking good care of him, you hear?”
“As much as I can at least” The younger of the two Tracy’s laughed. “He’s always going off somewhere…”
“Hey!” Scott frowned, but the little twinkle in his eyes still remained. “I don’t go AWOL that often.”
“Sure you don’t.” Alex commented.
“I don’t believe it either.” Virgil agreed. Scott groaned. “I’ll leave you two to chat for a bit while I finish packing up.” And just like that, Virgil was off back to Thunderbird 2, leaving the two men to catch up. Scott watched his brother go, smiling in fondness.
Alex’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I told you so.”
Scott looked at his old friend questioningly, although he already knew exactly what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”
“That you’d find your calling…”
Thunderbird 1 caught his gaze, gleaming a bright silver in the setting sun, a symbol of everything Scott Tracy was and what he worked for.“I did, didn’t I?” Scott answered, looking between his brother, his ship, and Alex. “It sure is a different life, but it’s one I wouldn’t change for the world.”
I'm debating taking a break from posting these for a few days, to try and catch my breath and properly review what I have planned for the rest of the month, so this might be the last one for a little bit.
No Tracy Bros in this, but International Rescue is mentioned at the end... kind of. I keep having these stories end on cliffhangers, I'm so sorry!
Anyway! I hope you enjoy!
AO3 here
Days: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight ~ Nine ~ Ten ~ Eleven ~ Twelve ~ Thirteen ~ Fourteen ~ Fifteen ~ Sixteen
Warnings for: Swearing and gang mentions.
Kat's new lead guides her towards a very dangerous path.
Tagging: @thunder-tober@skymaiden32@idontknowreallywhy@mrmustachious
She really needed to start heeding the warnings that were given to her. Perhaps if she had actually listened to her editor when he told her to drop this exposé, she might have actually stood a chance of getting out unscathed.
Yet here she was instead, trapped in a room spewing God-knew-what kind of gas, and all of it was because she didn’t stop to properly investigate what turned out to be a traitorous lead.
TWO HOURS EARLIER
Kat Cavanaugh sat idly in the chair at her desk. Chopsticks were twirled between her fingers whilst her untouched Kung Pao Chicken she had ordered for lunch became increasingly cold in the oyster pail.
She knew she was staring into space, knew her mind was thinking too hard, but she allowed herself to get absorbed in those thoughts because she was running out of time. The report she had been compiling for next week’s hard-hitting edition of EXPOSED! was looking more and more like a dead-end.
There was nothing Kat hated more than a dead-end.
After a fraught meeting with her editor that morning, who had insisted she drop the article and instead focused on the rehabilitation and redevelopment of the Bay area, Kat had been left with a sour taste in her mouth. She wasn’t going to be ordered around, editor or not. She hadn’t got this far into her career to start taking the ‘easier’ path now. That wasn’t how she had made her name, nor was it how she was going to allow her legacy to end.
Instead of dropping the piece, Kat began to focus on different angles she could take. They had all fallen flat because she still lacked that one, vital component that made a story like this credible: evidence. She had no leads, no quotes, no names, no places… The only way she could think of getting any information now would be to try the police again, which hadn’t ended well last time.
Kat had gone out to buy her lunch, uninspired but not fully without hope, and had returned to a gift she had very much not been expecting.
3pm. Hudson Building. Fifth floor. Details of the Serpents revealed. Tell no-one.
The cyber-crime gang known formally as the Serpent Soldiers, less formally as just Serpents, had been a thorn in everybody’s sides, including Kat’s. All sorts of gangs had steadily been increasing over the last few months, all intent on, in Kat’s opinion, the same outcome. The Serpents were the biggest group in this part of the States, and were the only known gang to cross state borders with their membership.
Of course Kat had chosen to write the exposé on them, foolishly thinking it wouldn’t be as difficult (or as dangerous) as it had inevitably become.
The email she had received seemed too good to be true, but when had Kat Cavanaugh ever listened to rational thinking? So, she decided to keep it to herself as instructed. Her editor, who had been so vehemently against her continuing this story this morning, didn’t need to be aware of it.
All she had to do was think of a suitable reason to leave the office in a couple of hours and—
“Kat? Katherine?”
Her colleague, Nessa, had arrived at her desk at… some point. A look of concern dominated her features. “You alright, Cavanaugh?”
Kat flashed her a quick, reassuring smile, and straightened herself up in her seat. Amid all the daydreaming, she hadn’t realised she’d ended up so slouched. Very professional there, Kat.
“Ness! Hi. Yes, I’m fine. Just.. thinking.”
Nessa’s gloriously painted nails tapped on the takeout box, brow arching. “You shouldn’t eat at your desk, you know? Statistics show that your more likely to do work than take a break.”
“I’m fine, Nes. I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now, that’s all.”
Another nudge of the full box. “Damn right you do! Have you even eaten anything yet?”
Kat swatted her hand away with an amused grin. “Not that plate! You know what I meant.”
“Oh. The Serpent article?”
Naturally, her work on the piece had become a source of office gossip.
“Always aiming too high, that Kat. Never going to get a story out of it.”
“Does she think that because she’s interview International Rescue once that she’s some hot-shot journal now?”
“The Serpents speak to no-one. She’s lucky she isn’t already dead in a ditch somewhere.”
Office gossip was something she was, unfortunately, accustomed to, but it didn’t mean it made hearing her peers talk about her in hushed voices as she passed any less painful to endure. Kat always managed to brush it aside and tell herself that she didn’t care when, truthfully, she felt the opposite.
“It will get done by next week, Nes. I’ve just got to get one, solid, credible lead.”
“Good luck with that.” Nessa patted her shoulder. “I don’t envy your task, Kat.”
----------------------------
The Hudson Building was a half-hour walk away from her office, but Kat gave herself more time, just in case. So far this was her only lead and she couldn’t afford to blow it.
The area looked run-down. Many businesses had moved out of the area years ago, leading to graffitied walls and smashed windows in their wake. As mentioned by her editor that morning, the district had been green-lit a renovation project by the Mayor’s office, but Kat was sceptical of that every becoming a reality. The Bay area had been overlooked for years. She didn’t see why it would be any different this time. In her many years of experience travelling the country for her work, Kat had come to the conclusion that cities like this one needed the run-down areas in order for the ‘prettier’ areas to remain profitable.
She pondered her scepticism as she continued her brisk walk, politely offering a dollar or two to a couple of homeless people as she passed them. The thought of the implications of this area of the city being the meeting spot from a very dubious note had not crossed her mind once.
The Hudson Building had been one of the last to become derelict in the area and thus, from the outside, it had fared better than the rest of the street. However as Kat stepped into the building there was immediate evidence of squatter activity in the lobby. Tattered sleeping bags alongside old pizza boxes, drink cans and the occasional discarded needle.
Kat ignored the faint urge in her that screamed to get out. On tip-toes, she carefully trod over the discarded items, an elbow rising to cover her nose from the smell of the damp and filth, to make it over to the elevators which she prayed still worked.
She was in luck.
The fifth floor was cleaner in terms of the lack of squatter activity but thick dust covered the carpeted flooring. Mould grew from damp walls. This was not a place she wanted to stay in for long.
Kat checked her watch. Five to three. The note hadn’t specified where on the fifth floor to meet. She tried all the doors on the floor. She’d almost given up when none of them had opened for her… until she reached the last one. Offices 545-559. This door was unlocked and, unlike the other handles, was not covered in grime.
Flickering lights met her when she entered. Windows had been blacked out, meaning no light from the outside filtered through. Kat switched on the torch on her phone and used it to guide herself through the empty space.
It was a relatively small reception, with doors that led off to different office spaces, she presumed. Again, as before, Kat tried all the doors. This time, it was the door marked 556 that opened. She made a note of the number, in case it became important for her exposé at a later date.
Office 556 was nothing out of the ordinary. It had a desk in the centre, a couple of broken digital screens on top along with a broken holo-projector. The seats were filthy and, like the reception, the single window in the room had been boarded up.
Kat took a few more steps forward, to see if the screens were working, when she heard the door behind her slam and lock.
Shit.
Immediately, Kat made for the door, wrangling with the handle in an attempt to get it to open.
Of course, it didn’t.
“Hey! Whoever’s out there, let me out! This isn’t funny—”
She heard the hiss of the gas first, unable to see or smell it from the colourless and odourless quality. That didn’t matter. Gas was gas and… this wasn’t looking good.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing? Open this door NOW!”
The more she spoke, the more she breathed. The more she breathed, the more gas she inhaled.
Kat began to cough as the gas tickled her throat. Her heart-rate spiked. Fear began to creep in because fuck! She hadn’t told anyone where she had been going. Nobody knew she was here.
She gave up on the door and ignored the gas that was still being vented in from the gap at the bottom, stumbling over to the desk where she’d left her phone. If she was quick, maybe she would be able to call someone before she passed out or… worse.
“God, don’t think about that, Kat.” She mumbled to herself, arms rising to try and get a signal to her phone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Kat didn’t feel the floor as she hit it, but she knew she had; harsh bristles from the carpet dug into her cheek. Her vision had blurred and she tried so desperately hard to fight the urge to just pass out. On the floor, the gas inhalation was greater.
The last thing she remembered was a pair of familiar looking, blue boots come into focus in front of her.
She knew those boots.
She could have wept happy tears. They’d somehow found her.
International Rescue.
She was safe.
Of course, with the state Kat was in, it was forgivable for her to jump to the most positive of conclusions but, in reality, the truth was far from her hopeful imagination.
This time last year, I started an Inktober event for the Thunderbirds fandom with very Thunderbirds-y prompts. This year, I'm doing it again! >:3
Welcome back to Thundertober!
Like last year, the main goal is to just have fun! Anyone is welcome to join in. Draw some amazing art, write your favourite characters in both whumpy and fluffy situations, do some editing if that's your style. Mix and match the prompts if you'd like. Use whichever continuity and version of the characters you're most comfortable with; the possibilities are endless!
Last year I wasn't able to respond to and reblog as many of your astounding creations as I would've liked to, so make sure you tag me on my main blog @skymaiden32 , the event blog @thunder-tober or tag your work as #thundertober 2023. You can also submit a post to the event blog if you'd like!
Grandpa is mentioned so very briefly (if at all?) in TAG, so I just ran with my own headcanons on this one. Also, this is mainly about Virgil but it ended up turning into a Scott POV.
AO3 here
Days: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven
Warnings for: None! I like to think this is a nice, soft fic after the previous two I posted.
Virgil is a lot similar to Grandpa Tracy than one may first assume.
Tagging: @thunder-tober @skymaiden32 @idontknowreallywhy
(just going to put it out there that if you want to be tagged in any future Thundertober pieces, or future pieces in general, let me know and I'll tag you too!)
Virgil had a way with rescuees. It was often put down to his calming nature and his ability to be so empathetic. Some might have mistakenly claimed that Virgil had inherited these traits from Lucille. Perhaps they were partly because of her, but Virgil himself always credited them to Grant.
Grandpa Tracy had always been his favourite adult. At family functions, Virgil had always found himself crawling, waddling, walking, and then running towards him first. Whilst he loved them all, it was no secret that Grant held Virgil’s heart.
Virgil had once claimed Grandpa was his hero, which had displeased Scott a little at first but his older brother soon realised why. To Virgil, Grandpa was everything he wanted to be: funny and considerate, wise beyond even his senior years, but above all else, Grant was kind and gentle and soft. If Scott took after Jeff, Virgil wanted to take after Grant.
Scott could still see their grandfather in Virgil as he carefully led some unfortunate souls away from a disaster zone. Like Grant, Virgil would always, always know the right things to say, whether that was to diffuse a situation or to calm someone down from a panic attack.
Virgil didn’t look like Grandpa, per se, but Scott often found himself blinking or doing a double-take because the personality was a mirror. He filled a void in Scott’s heart which had been empty since the accident. He enjoyed seeing his brother embody Grant, and he knew John appreciated the sight too.
Never was this more apparent than when they were dealing with a disaster involving children.
They were all great with kids, but Virgil was the best. His temperament meant that children adored him. They ran to him for comfort, for answers, for reassurance just like Virgil used to run to Grant all those years ago. Whether purposeful or not, Virgil had become the Gentle Giant of Present, crafting what he loved about Grandpa and what he had learned into something that worked for him. It was the perfect homage to a great man, the perfect way to carry out a legacy so that Grandpa Tracy’s love and care was never truly forgotten.
Whenever Virgil embodied that Gentle Giant persona, it felt like Grandpa was in the room with them. Maybe he was in some sort of higher-being way. Maybe he was watching on from wherever his soul currently rested with the usual fond expression he reserved only for his second grandson.
Conversations about Grandpa Tracy were rarely brought up. It was only when Grandma was in the room, or when they were reminiscing about a very specific memory that involved the Gentle Giant of Old. It wasn’t fair on Alan, was the usual excuse, for the youngest of the brood had never met Grant, at least not properly. He had been so young when the accident had happened that bringing up any memories of the man seemed unfair in Alan’s presence. It was the same rule with Mom.
There were some nights, like tonight, when Alan wasn’t around and Scott and Virgil were alone on the balcony under a canopy of stars where it was safe to mention Grant’s name.
Virgil had almost jumped with fright at the sight of Scott. He approached with two mugs of chamomile tea. It was an attempt, however futile, to help calm their systems after a harrowing rescue that had almost gone wrong earlier.
Said rescue involved children.
Said rescue showcased Virgil’s inherited talents once again.
“Do you remember,” Scott said by way of greeting, the cause of Virgil’s almost heart-attack, “when we used to play out on the ranch?”
Scott handed his brother one of the mugs, coming to a halt by his side with an apologetic smile for the shock. Virgil offered him a nod.
He continued. “We were always told not to stray too far, or go into the barns unaccompanied, but that would never stop us.”
“God bless Mom and Dad for the eternal patience.” Virgil joked, lifting the mug to his lips and gently blowing the steam into the night air beyond.
“We were always careful!” Scott protested, a playfully reminiscent grin forming. “… Except for the time we weren’t.”
Beside him, his brother visibly cringed. “I thought I was going to lose my hand.”
Scott tried his hardest to not laugh.
At the time, it had seemed like it was a matter of life or death which, given their current occupation, was ridiculous. “It was only a scratch, Virgil.”
“We didn’t know that at the time.”
There had been so much blood. They had learned very quickly that tractor rotavators were not toys to be played on.
“I thought Dad was going to kill us.” Virgil admitted, a touch more quietly.
“Thank God he never found out because he probably would have.” Scott cast a glance sideways to observe his brother carefully. “I didn’t want to go to anyone, for fear of them all wanting to kill us. I wanted to patch you up myself and keep it a secret, even from John, but you ran from that barn, Virg, all the way to Grandpa inside.”
Grant had been nothing but gentle with the bawling Virgil and, by the time Scott had hesitantly arrived, he had already begun to patch up his hand. He had, naturally, berated them for their carelessness, and told them that rules were in place for a reason, but he hadn’t yelled. He remained calm throughout the whole thing.
Scott had witnessed history repeat itself earlier that day, during the rescue that almost went wrong. A bunch of children, none older than seven, playing in a barn that belonged to one of their families. They weren’t supposed to be in there. They had accidentally caused the already crumbling structure to start collapsing. Three of them had been trapped inside, but Virgil never once raised his voice to any of them when he attended to them after. He merely stated the facts as they were, in the exact same way Grant had to them all those years ago.
“They were just kids, Scott.” Virgil eventually stated, his eyes locked on the distant horizon. “What else was I going to do?”
“I’m not saying you did the wrong thing, Virg. I think you handled it beautifully. Way better than what I would have done and, by the sounds of the cursing I heard over the comms from John, way better than what he would have done.”
“Sometimes,” Virgil began slowly, “when we’re out on mission, I feel him.” He paused, shaking his head. “That probably sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t.” Scott was quick to respond. “Sometimes, I feel Dad beside me.”
Virgil turned to glance at him then, the first time he’d actually looked at Scott since he’d taken the tea from him. “Really?”
“Really.”
The calmness of the night settled over them. The laps of waves, the salt in the air, the distant sound of wildlife on the island.
Virgil eventually broke the silence. “Do you think… Do you think he’d be proud? Of me? Of us?”
Scott didn’t answer that for a long while because the answer was obvious, at least to him. He continued to gaze out at the horizon where the sky met the ocean. “I know he would be.”
He let it hang in the air for a moment longer before nodding to the mug in Virgil’s hand. “Drink it and then try to get some rest. I know you’re a night owl, Virg,” he added quickly before his brother could protest, “but I need to go over some bits with you in the morning for the reports.”
Virgil reluctantly conceded and purposefully took a big swig of tea.
Scott tried, and failed, to hide his fond smile. “Regardless of whatever Grandpa would or wouldn’t think, I’m proud of you.”
And he was.
Virgil offered him a smile over his shoulder in return, and Scott cast one last glance over the ocean before heading back into the warmth of the villa.
Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)
Thundertober Day 2: Espionage
Kayo goes on a mission with Lady P to retrieve something that was stolen from International Rescue...
Continuity: TAG
------
The hallway crawled with guards as Kayo dodged expertly around boxes and complex machinery, keeping to the shadows as she always did. She hoped she could get there before the sale was made to the highest bidder. Penelope was buying her as much time as she could up there, she just hoped it was enough.
While she ran, she thought vaguely about how they had ended up in the first place. Long story short, it had been a long week, with non-stop and difficult rescues back to back. And a long week meant that even John, who was usually quite quick with security leaks and was sharper than a knife, didn’t see the virus slowly but surely attacking their networks until it was too late. Soon enough, EOS was almost taken out and their communications and trackers went offline.
Brains and John had never resolved a security hazard faster in their lives, even giving EOS more resources to protect herself and IR’s information so that such a savage malware attack could never happen again. When they finally got their systems back online, after several long and agonising hours, Alan wasn’t answering anyone’s calls.
Scott had been beside himself, Virgil and Gordon both wanted to bash in the heads of the responsible parties, and John still couldn’t let go of his guilt, despite the other’s best efforts. That was where Kayo came in. With her brothers still reeling from Alan’s disappearance, she’d taken the initiative and called in Lady Penelope for help. She was probably going to get an earful from Scott later for adding to the worry, but right now, she didn’t care. All she cared about was getting her little brother back…
Soon, she came to the end of the corridor, eyeing the two burly men with guns guarding a large metallic door. Bingo. The guards didn’t even know what hit them before she knocked them flat on their faces. Once she was sure they both out cold for hours to come, she swung the door open, furious expression turning to relief when her suspicions turned out to be correct.
Kayo saw Alan squint against the light that filtered through the doorway, in all likelihood framing her as his saviour. “K-Kayo…?” He croaked out shakily, as if not believing what he was seeing was real.
She raced towards him, scooping him up into her arms and carrying him out the dark, dingy room without a word. Her heart broke into a million pieces when he clung onto her for dear life. “It’s me, Alan… And I’m not letting go for a long time…”
------
“And so, Mr Grafton, that is why I believe-” Her long tirade finally ended when her opponent interrupted her, sighing.
“Beg your pardon, Your Ladyship, but I do have another meeting waiting after you.” The crook sighed. “Perhaps we could finish this another time…”
Penelope frowned. “But Mr Grafton, I am simply explaining my concerns about this new monorail project of yours. If I can perhaps get a dear friend of mine to assist with the designs-”
“No! Absolutely not!” Grafton froze like a deer in headlights. Penelope hid her delight behind a well-trained pokerface. Got him. “I mean…” He quickly backtracked. “I have some of the best engineers in the country working on this thing. I assure you, it’s perfectly safe.”
The noblewoman glanced down at her compact, carefully watching as the light on the top flashed twice. Kayo had Alan, and had already left for home in Thunderbird Shadow. It was high time she did the same. She sighed in mock defeat. “Very well then.” She stood up, saving Grafton’s feet from an increasingly irritable Sherbert. “I suppose I had better get going.” She smiled at Grafton, deceptively sweet and cordial. “I do hope you can get the money you require for this project, Mr Grafton.”
“I have several…” he paused, “...assets I can offer my investors, Lady Penelope.”
Penelope smiled. “Oh I’m sure you do, Mr Grafton. I’m sure you do…” She left the room as quickly as she could without raising suspicion, glancing at Parker as she did. That one look between them confirmed all that Parker wanted to know. He didn’t have his so-called ‘assets’ anymore.
------
“Where the hell have you been, Kayo?!” The familiar voice practically screamed into her comms the second she came back online, as predicted. What she incorrectly guessed, however, was just who was doing the screaming. “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve all been? First Alan goes missing, and then you leave without telling anyone where you’re going?! You are in so much trouble when you get back.”
Kayo waited patiently for her brother to end his rant, and quickly cut in before he could say anything else. “Sorry Gordon, I had to maintain radio silence for this mission. This guy had already taken out our security. I just couldn’t risk him having some kind of backdoor and hearing all about it…”
Gordon, for perhaps the first time in his life, appeared to be speechless. “You mean…?”
“Yep.” Kayo confirmed. “I’ve got him, all thanks to Penelope. He’s asleep right now in the back seat of Shadow. Better get Virgil to set up an IV. Looks like those monsters didn’t give him any sort of nourishment.”
“I’m on it!” Gordon nodded on the hologram, and went to turn off the comm. Right before he did however, he said something that made her feel so much better. “I’m glad you did what you did. Both of you.” He grinned. “You guys are like his guardian angels.”
Kayo chuckled. “Thanks, Gordon. I’ll see you guys soon.”
Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn @idontknowreallywhy (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)
Thundertober Day 9: Heartbreak
It was time to stop feeling sorry for himself...
Continuity: TOS
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It struck him just how quickly time could whizz past you, unnoticed until it was too late. Married life had gone by so quickly, and yet they’d spent just about one and a half decades in each other's arms.
In contrast, the time immediately after the avalanche went so much slower, even though it was only a few months. Making the necessary arrangements. Arranging a funeral…
God, the funeral. Speaking on that stage about them was one of the hardest things Jeff had ever had to do. Remembering Lucy and his father was difficult, even though he knew it was the healthiest thing he could do. Everything was difficult. He struggled with life itself in the year that followed. He poured himself into his work, doing everything he could to make sure his children, the five most precious things the love of his life had given him, had the best life possible.
But as much as he cared and loved his sons, he was also blinded by his own grief so much that he didn’t see how badly they were hurting.
His eldest three had by far changed the most. With him out the house most of the time, Scott had been frantically getting his brothers ready for school and extracurriculars, doing chores around the house and finishing his homework last minute. And with little to no time for himself or with friends, it was clear he was exhausted with the extra workload.
Virgil didn’t talk anymore. He was grouchy with everybody all the time, the smile wiped off his face completely.
His middle boy, John, had taken after him the most it seemed. The aspiring amateur astronomer had poured himself into school work. Most of the time, he was buried in a book or shut up in his bedroom.
Gordon and Alan hadn’t noticed much wrong, both being too young to realise any better. But Gordon had quickly seen a change in the behaviour of his older family members, always offering to help Scott with things or trying to cheer Virgil or John up. Alan, being a mere two years old, had simply shifted slowly from calling for his mother, to calling out to Scott when he needed something or had a bad dream. Never once had the toddler asked for his father since then.
And Jeff had missed it all… He’d completely failed in his duties as a father. He sobbed, sinking to the floor of his bedroom as everything finally clicked into place after what felt like an eternity of being on autopilot. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that. He knew that now. Steeling himself, he picked himself off the floor, and looked at the clock. Just past midnight. Good. That meant he could try to set things straight with his eldest, who was no doubt still awake trying to unravel his maths homework.
He crept downstairs, making note of the lone light in the dining room. Sure enough, Scott was there, chewing on the end of his pencil. The teenager paused to take a sip of coffee, and that’s when Jeff intervened.
When the beverage was swiped away, Scott groaned. “Dad…” His voice was a low whisper, not wanting to wake up the hoard upstairs. Jeff himself didn’t say anything. He just put the coffee down, and reached forward to give his son a big hug. Scott froze, as if not quite believing it was real. Jeff’s heart shattered.
“I’m sorry.” He said, as if a simple apology could mend what he’d done, or failed to do. His son stayed frozen in the warm embrace. “Time to tag out, Scotty…” Realising just what his father was referring to, Scott finally hugged back, clinging onto Jeff for dear life. “I’ll take it from here.” Father and son separated after a few more minutes, Jeff wiping away a stray tear from Scott’s eye. “Take the day off of school tomorrow, son. Get some rest.”
“R-Really?” Scott sniffled.
“Of course, baby. Of course. I’ll be handling your brothers from now on.”
His son chuckled. “Good luck with that. You’re gonna need it.” His smile fell. “Dad, can you promise me that?”
Jeff sighed. “I’ll give it my best. Like I should’ve from the beginning. I know I can never apologise enough for the way I’ve checked out over this past year, but I’ll do it anyway.”
There was silence for a long few moments. “I can’t promise I’ll forgive you.” Scott finally admitted. “At least not now. But it’s a start.”
“That’s all I ask for…” Jeff gave his son one last smile before standing to his full height. “Get some sleep.”
“Dad?” A third voice whispered into the room, and the door creaked ajar to reveal the face of John. “What’s going on? A-Are you really back with us?”
Jeff reached down to lift his middle son off of the floor and into his arms. “I am, sport. I’m here.” He reassured gently, rocking his boy back and forth in his arms. “What are you doing up, son?”
“Couldn’t sleep…” John mumbled into his father’s shoulder. Jeff tried to catch Scott’s eye, but paused when he noticed his eldest wasn’t returning the look. Instead, Scott’s eyes were transfixed on the dining room door.
Jeff made a small ‘Oh’ sound, and keeping a tight grip on John, opened the door the widest it could go. Behind the door, much to his chagrin, was a worried Virgil and a very tired Gordon. “Boys…” He shook his head. “What are you all doing up? Come on now,” he gestured with his head for his three standing sons to go upstairs back to their rooms. “Bed. All of you.” He followed them upstairs, making sure each and every one of them would sleep through the night.
He was in Scott’s room when a high-pitched wail pierced the air. Scott made a move towards the door, but Jeff stopped him quickly. “I’ve got Alan. Get some sleep, okay?”
Scott frowned, hesitant, but nodded in the end. “Okay…”
“I love you and your brothers a lot, Scott. I’m not letting any of you down. Not again…” Jeff promised, leaving the room. “Night, son.”
“Night, Dad…”
When he got there, Alan’s little arms reached up to him, desperate for some attention from anyone. Jeff picked him up, soothing his youngest son by rubbing little circles on his back. Slowly but surely, Alan finally fell asleep again. Jeff placed a single kiss on the toddler's forehead, laying him back in the crib with a smile on his face. He’d give the world to his sons if he had it, but for now, he’d gladly give them his time.
