Tumgik
#thundertober 2023
tinytracys · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
Having invented six incredible machines, Brains turned his mind to creating suitable pilots…
Thundertober prompt 12 - Laboratory
@thunder-tober @skymaiden32
54 notes · View notes
hebuiltfive · 7 months
Text
Thundertober Day Three: Armour
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.
54 notes · View notes
skymaiden32 · 7 months
Text
A Different Life
Read on AO3 here
Fandom: Thunderbirds
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.”
50 notes · View notes
chaoticvbird · 6 months
Text
I shouldn't be allowed to use Emoji Combiners
Tumblr media
Finally I have taken part in a ThunderTober event, are you proud of me /j
Thundertober Prompt 16 - Asteroid Comet
@thunder-tober @skymaiden32
::tackles @idontknowreallywhy:: You need to stop letting me make these things i swear /j
Also, do we still know who ordered the pepperoni?
9 notes · View notes
hebuiltfive · 6 months
Text
Thundertober Day Seventeen: Danger
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.
49 notes · View notes
skymaiden32 · 8 months
Text
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
Tumblr media
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!
Good luck, and have fun! ^^
71 notes · View notes
hebuiltfive · 7 months
Text
Thundertober Day Eight: Gentle Giant
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.
40 notes · View notes
skymaiden32 · 7 months
Text
His Guardian Angels
Read on AO3 here
Fandom: Thunderbirds
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.”
44 notes · View notes
skymaiden32 · 7 months
Text
Negotiations
Read on AO3 here
Fandom: Thunderbirds
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 3: Armour
Alan thinks they may have gone a little too far with the armour on his uniform.
Continuity: TAG
------
“Are you sure I need all of this…?” Alan asked, still a little uncertain as he waddled out of the fitting room. 
“Yes.” His four older brothers and grandmother in front of him chorused, causing Alan to grumble. 
He huffed. “I can barely move in this thing.” He was only vaguely able to gesture at the full body armour currently situated over his uniform. “And it’s really heavy…”
Scott grinned. “Good. That means it’ll work.” 
“Yep.” Virgil nodded. “Some of Brains’ finest work, if I do say so!”
“Plus,” John cut in. “Everything feels lighter in space anyway. It’s perfect for Thunderbird 3 missions.”
Alan sighed. “That still doesn’t mean it’s good for missions on Earth, Johnny…”
“Sure it does.” The older astronaut argued. “You’ll be on Thunderbird 2’s support crew; you need heavy duty stuff for that.” As an afterthought, he muttered, “And don’t call me Johnny.”
Gordon nodded in agreement. “When I tell you about all the scrapes and bruises me and Virg have gotten just for handling some of that equipment…”
“Yeah!” Alan tried to protest. “But you guys weren’t given full body armour to wear!” At that moment, Kayo walked into the room. The Tracy’s watched as their adoptive sister took one look at Alan, and immediately had to stifle a giggle. Alan frowned. “See? She thinks it’s too much. Hell, Brains probably thinks it’s too much! You guys are being way too overprotective…”
“And is there anything wrong with that young man?” Grandma Tracy interrupted. “Your brothers and I just want to make sure you’re safe…”
“I know but…” Alan sighed. “Maybe we can compromise on it? I don’t need this much armour.”
“Alright kiddo,” Scott took charge of negotiations. “What do you wanna get rid of?”
Alan smiled innocently. “Is everything an option?”
Scott deadpanned. “No.”
“Eh. It was worth a shot.” The teen shrugged. “I’ll wear the shoulder pieces. Honestly, I think they make me look cool.” He admitted.
His older brother hummed. “Wear the chestplate too and we’ll call it even.” He held his hand out. “So, Mr Tracy, do we have a deal?”
Alan was quiet for a good few minutes. On one hand, he could try to get just a bit more out of this. On the other hand, Scott was serious about this. All of them were. And when someone in his family was serious, it meant they weren’t messing around. Scott wouldn’t budge. He never did when it came to safety. Alan smirked, reaching his hand out to accept Scott’s. “We do indeed…” The teen winked. “Mr Tracy…”
Scott rolled his eyes as he let go of Alan’s hand, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his hair. He was glad Alan had agreed to at least part of the armour, because if anything happened to him, he'd never forgive himself for not convincing him to wear more of it…
34 notes · View notes
tinytracys · 7 months
Text
How to Fix a Broken Heart
Tumblr media
There were a plethora of ideas…
Tumblr media
Virgil: We need to make it structurally stable before we start plastering up the cracks
John: FAB.
Virgil: You’re ignoring me aren’t you?
John: …
Tumblr media
Scott: ALL THE GLUE ALL THE TIME
Gordon: I think we need to consider a happier aesthetic
Tumblr media
Kayo: Don’t bother with that, Alan, this calls for the heavy duty approach
Alan: I dunno, this stuff seems pretty sticky…
Kayo: What?
Alan: err, nothing…
Tumblr media
O-oh d-dear…
Tumblr media
Success!
Tumblr media
No no no no nooooooooooooo!
Thundertober prompt 9 - Heartbreak
@thunder-tober @skymaiden32
44 notes · View notes
skymaiden32 · 7 months
Text
Composed
Read on AO3 here
Fandom: Thunderbirds
Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn @idontknowreallywhy (Please ask if you would like to be alerted when I update or post new stories.)
Thundertober Day 15: Piano
Virgil was almost most relaxed at his piano. He just hadn’t been able to for a while…
Continuity: TAG
———
His piano was his happy place. The way his fingers flew across the keys was when he was most relaxed. And the way he could affect the air around him with music was when he perhaps felt the most powerful. At least, he used to be…
Jeff Tracy had only been on Earth for a week, and yet it had been a couple of months since Virgil had touched his most precious possession. It wasn’t his father’s fault; Virgil would never blame Jeff. But the pilot felt that he’d lost a connection to his very soul. One that he wasn’t entirely certain he could get back.
But he was determined to. He just had to. He had to have that. That creative outlet that he was famous for, both here on Tracy Island, and in the greater world. The thing that was purely him, Virgil Tracy, and not the International Rescue agent.
So, for the first time in what felt like years, he crept down to the instrument in the dead of night, making sure he wasn’t followed by family and friends alike. A pile of sheet music was tucked under his arm as he perched on the seat of the piano, and opened up the lid to reveal the ivory white and shimmering black keys. They were calling to him.
And just like that, he had the music on display in front of him, and had begun to play one of his favourite pieces. Sure, he was a little rusty, but it was still oh so natural to him. The way the keys obeyed his commands and the twinkling, gentle sound surrounded him. It felt right, and yet, there was still something missing…
“Ahem.” A voice interrupted his playing, prompting Virgil to look up to the holographic image directly in front of him. John’s arms were folded over his chest, watching as his brother tinkered with the grand piano.
“Oh…” Virgil cleared his throat. “Sorry John. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
John looked at him, puzzled that he would even ask that question. “I’m in space, Virgil. There’s no way you’re playing is that loud. I just woke up to it over the comms.” Virgil gave him a look, and John caved pretty quickly. “Okay, okay, I’ve been awake the whole time.”
Virgil hummed. “Never thought there’d be someone in this family who struggled with sleep more than Scott, but then again you always like to prove us wrong.”
“Haha, very funny…” John rolled his eyes. “Still, it’s nice to hear you play again. You haven’t touched that piano since-”
“Since we started work on the T-drive…” Virgil sighed. “I know. It’s just been so chaotic lately. And if I can’t find the time to play, I may as well make the time.” He paused, hoping he made sense to his spacebound brother. “Do you get what I mean?”
John nodded. “I hear you loud and clear, Virgil. Before, I had as much time as I wanted to just watch the world go by. But since we heard there might be a way to get Dad home…”
“We’ve all only been able to do our jobs…” Virgil mused. It was a strange thought. They’d given so much of their collective time to bring Dad home, and now he was, they were struggling to fill the void again.
“Well,” John began, “he’s back now. Things’ll be back to normal soon. Or as close as possible to it.” The astronaut smiled. “You’ll be on the piano more regularly again soon enough.” He winked, a rare joking smile on his face. “More, composed, if you will…”
“Really?”
“Just returning the favour from earlier.” John chuckled. “Make sure you go to sleep soon, okay? The others will throw a fit if you stay up too long. From what I understand, they’re all awake as well.”
Virgil’s eyes widened. “You sure?”
“They’ve been listening, big brother. And from what I hear, they’ve missed hearing the piano as much as I have.”
The pilot found himself smiling. “Thanks John, I needed to hear that.” A silence stayed over them for a couple of seconds. “I’ll go to bed right now if you do too…”
John smirked in turn. “Deal.”
26 notes · View notes
tinytracys · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
Heavily-armoured-evil-knight vs international rescue? No contest.
Consider yourself Rescued, impractically-dressed-damsel!
Thundertober prompt 3 - Armour
@skymaiden32 @thunder-tober
31 notes · View notes
skymaiden32 · 6 months
Text
Safety Measures
Read on AO3 here
Fandom: Thunderbirds
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 18: Safety
Some rules are made to be broken.
Continuity: TAG
------
“Are you joking?!” Gordon winced when he heard Virgil yell at the hologram in front of them, hovering above Thunderbird 2’s dashboard. “Please tell me you’re joking…” The man in the image tried his best to look apologetic, but after years of learning how to read others, the two Tracy’s could tell he wasn’t.
“This is no joke, Mr Tracy. It’s health and safety.” The idiot stated. “According to the official handbook, no non-staff members are allowed to access the master control panel. If we let just anyone use those controls, it could result in disaster.”
Virgil grumbled, uncharacteristically folding his arms in front of him and slumping back in his seat with a huff. This back and forth was eerily similar to the whole atmospheric cleaner debacle not too long ago. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if the official he was currently speaking with was the same guy and had moved companies. But alas, that was not the case.
Gordon frowned at the man, standing up and making his way over so he was eye level with the hologram. It was lucky he was in front of them as a hologram; if he were truly face to face with them he probably would’ve had a black eye. “Well, can’t you make an exception just this once? There are people in that factory who could die if we can’t access those controls!” The idiot began to open his mouth, and Gordon quickly silenced him. “And before you ask if there’s another way, there isn’t.” He put it bluntly, hoping to get the situation into this guy's thick skull. “Our team has run through every possible solution we can think of in various simulators, and nothing works. They all result in the building collapsing. Or worse.”
Sensing his brother’s increasing frustration, Virgil took over the conversation again. “The master controls are the only way. Please, we don’t have much time left to save your workers.”
“As much as I’d like to help…” Liar. “I’m just doing my job. Which is to uphold our company's code of health and safety to the highest degree.”
“Well, so are we.” Gordon snapped. “Would you seriously risk your employees' lives just because a rescue team wants to access your system to save them?” He practically hissed. “A little hypocritical, don’t you think?” The officer rose an eyebrow, as if genuinely puzzled. Virgil looked at his brother in shock. Gordon ignored them both. “You preach about wanting to protect your team from danger, but you fail to realise that the most dangerous thing you can do is not let us help them. They’ll be waiting for us to come to their rescue, probably scared out of their wits, but help will never come for them. All because you have your head buried in the sand.” He shook his head, and laughed without humour. “Don’t you see? International Rescue is the only thing standing between those men and women down there, and an untimely death. If you don’t let us in, believe me, we’ll find our own way in. It’s your choice…”
An uneasy silence followed. Virgil and Gordon waited a few tense seconds before the official huffed. “...Fine.” He finally relented, seeing the point the aquanaut was making. “I’ll allow it. Just this once. Meet me down at the main control building. I’ll let you in and show you how to operate it.” That was all he said before the hologram winked off, leaving empty space where it once was.
Virgil looked at Gordon in awe, laughing at his success. “How’d you manage to do that?”
His brother just shrugged, still amazed that it had worked. “When you’re in a naval officers company to defend yourself enough times, you pick up a thing or two…” He explained slyly, examining his nails. “Guess I still got it!”
“You sure do little brother!” Virgil chuckled, flying towards the rendezvous point. “Down with overcomplicated safety measures, huh?” Gordon couldn’t help but agree.
30 notes · View notes
skymaiden32 · 7 months
Text
Heavy Lifting
Read on AO3 here
Fandom: Thunderbirds
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 8: Gentle Giant
Even the strongest people need a pick me up.
Continuity: TAG
------
‘An absolute unit.’
That’s what his dear brother Gordon liked to call him. And it was something Virgil embodied in pretty much everything he did. 
He was by far the strongest of his family. Sure, Scott and Gordon, being military trained, had a fair bit of muscle on them. And John kept relatively fit with his exercises up in space. But Virgil had always been the strong one. Even as kids, he could easily lift two of his little brothers onto each shoulder and carry them around. He continued to lift them up to this day. In more ways than one.
Whenever Scott was having doubts or John wasn’t talking to anyone. Whenever Gordon was having flashbacks or Alan just needed a nudge in the right direction. He was there. He would always be there, supporting them. Just like his beloved Thunderbird 2 supported her sister craft on rescues. He was a lot like his ship in that way. They were kindred spirits, Virgil and Thunderbird 2. Gentle giants in every sense.
He was the heavy lifter. The demolition expert. The medic. All he did was support. So, he snarked to himself as he was laying down in his bed one random Thursday morning, unable to get up. Just why couldn’t he push past this? This feeling he had right now? Of hopelessness and despair that he hadn’t been able to shake since that rescue two days ago? He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there, senses so dead to the road that everything blurred together. But clearly, his brothers did. Because it was his brothers who saved him. 
“Virgil?” The door creaked open, Alan’s voice gentle as he looked at his brother. Still in bed at three in the afternoon. It worried them. It worried them all… “Grandma made cookies if you want any.” Instead of the usual sounds of disgust whenever someone mentioned Grandma Tracy’s cooking, Virgil simply grunted. The alarm bells in Alan’s head went off. “Stay where you are, I’ll be right back.” Virgil grunted again.
Alan came back. With everyone. Even John had come down from Thunderbird 5. Scott didn’t say anything. He just wrapped Virgil up into the tightest hug he could possibly manage, squeezing hard. The rest of their family joined in as well, cocooning Virgil in a warm embrace. One that he’d desperately needed. For the first time in what felt like forever, Virgil began to cry. Sobbing into his big brother's shoulder, letting the emotions out that he’d held in for so long.
At long last, he spoke. “I should’ve done more…” His voice cracked. “I should’ve done more to help that little girl…” If at all possible, the hug got even tighter.
“It wasn’t your fault, Virgil.” Gordon’s voice was strong in contrast to his own.
“It was.” Virgil insisted. “She was right there in front of me. She was…”
“Already gone.” Another voice interrupted his tirade. John. “Virgil, she was already gone. Her life sign was dead before you even got into that cavern.”
Virgil cried again in despair. What John had just told him was new information to him. “Then I should’ve worked faster!”
“No.” Scott simply stated, pulling back from his brother as much as the group hug would allow. “Virgil, look at me.” The younger of the two struggled to lift his head, but he did. His brother’s determined blue eyes met his dull brown ones. “You were already working as fast as you could. I know it hurts. But you did everything in your power to save her.”
Kayo’s voice was in agreement with Scott. “She knows you did what you could Virgil. It’s alright to mourn her. But she doesn’t blame you, and she wouldn’t want you to blame yourself…” Virgil sniffled.
“I wouldn’t blame you if I were in her shoes…” Alan’s voice was small. “She was my age. I didn’t know her, but I know better than anyone in this room what would’ve gone through her head.”
“That’s why I should’ve done more…” Virgil replied. “A family lost their sunshine. They lost their Alan Tracy because I wasn’t strong enough to save her.”
Everyone froze. “Honey…” Grandma weaved her way into the centre of the hug. “Now listen to us, none of this is on you.”
“But-”
“Virgil. None of that.” Grandma’s voice was firm, but not unkind. “It’s not your fault. I want you to get that into your head right now.” Virgil wiped the last of his tears away. Of course she was right. They were all right.
“You okay now, Virg?” Scott ruffled his hair.
Virgil smiled sadly as the hug parted, but his heart was lighter now. Much lighter. They’d done all the heavy lifting… “I will be, Scott. I will be…”
24 notes · View notes
hebuiltfive · 7 months
Text
Thundertober Day Fifteen: Piano
... Sorry for another sad fic. This one was inspired by Maisie Peters' song 'Two Weeks Ago', which is about a break-up but of course I twisted it into this. Tissues at the ready...
AO3 here
Days: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight ~ Nine ~ Ten ~ Eleven ~ Twelve ~ Thirteen ~ Fourteen
Warnings for: Grieving/Mourning/Loss "Now this songs for you, and it's all I have, and I wish it was two weeks ago." Jeff finds solace in playing Lucille's piano. Tagging: @thunder-tober@skymaiden32@idontknowreallywhy@mrmustachious
Did she know how much he had loved her?
Had he said it enough? Had he shown her enough?
Vows that had been made which had promised forever now seemed meaningless. Naive.
Because forever wasn’t possible. It had never been possible, but he had believed it.
The bubble had been burst, and now he was alone.
He felt that more acutely in the early hours of the day, before the sun had even risen.
The funeral had been yesterday. There had been so many people who had turned up. Some had been family, some had been friends, others had been colleagues and there were a few who had shown their face as a way of supporting the family who had been devastated by tragedy.
He’d heard many voices throughout the day, some he recognised and others that were unfamiliar to him.
“… so tragic…”
“… and with such a young family too…”
Jeff had tried to block them out. He had tried to block it all out. There were five young boys who still needed him, after all. He couldn’t afford to lose it.
But, in those early hours when only he was awake, Jeff allowed himself time to mourn.
It had taken him two weeks to even look in the direction of Lucille’s piano. She had only just started to teach Gordon, as she had once taught the older three. Only Virgil had seemed to inherit her talents, and by how the lessons had been going, Gordon wasn’t going to become a virtuoso like his older brother, but that wasn’t the point.
Gordon would never be able to finish those lessons with her.
Hell, no-one would ever be able to hear her play again.
He sat himself down on the stool, running a hand over the closed fallboard. Only two weeks and yet dust had already begun to gather. He swung the lid open, taking in the sight of the ivory keys. A sob slipped out.
Fingers pressed gently. Middle C.
Then another. D.
Jeff worked his way up the scale, then all the way down to the lowest key.
It rang out hollow, as though it mirrored his soul.
Before he knew it, he was softly playing one of Lucille’s favourite pieces. He was by no means as competent in his playing as she had been, but Jeff knew how to play the basics. Through his teary eyes, he missed a few keys here and there, but continued despite the errors.
A hand rested on his shoulder, a tender touch Jeff almost mistook for Lucille.
His son.
Virgil’s eyes were red and stains down his cheek marked the tears that had recently fallen.
How foolish Jeff had been to play so soon after her passing. How inconsiderate he had been to—
“You’re in the wrong key.” Virgil explained, shuffling into the space on the bench beside his father. “It’s supposed to be played in F Sharp, which are these chords instead.”
Jeff watched his second son’s fingers glide over ivory with expert precision and for a second, he didn’t see Virgil.
He had been trying his hardest to not break-down in front of his boys but, in that moment, the dam burst and Jeff couldn’t help it. Virgil stopped playing and looped one arm around his father’s shoulders. They sat for a while, sobbing and remembering and wishing they could reverse time. Two weeks ago wasn’t that far. Two weeks ago was nothing in the grand scope of the universe. And yet, two weeks ago might as well have been two centuries ago.
In the following months, seeing the piano became easier. Jeff encouraged Virgil to play, especially when Alan was having difficulty getting to sleep. 
The more it was used, the less painful it became. 
The more it was used, the more if felt like Lucille was still with them.
The more it was used, the easier the grieving became.
23 notes · View notes
hebuiltfive · 7 months
Text
Thundertober Day Thirteen: Laboratory
SCREAMING because this is by far the most fun and my most favourite piece I've written so far. I don't want to give too much away but there is a mini-crossover, I just hope I didn't make it too vague and subtle to miss. It is quite a long one, but I hope it pays off, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
AO3 here
Days: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight ~ Nine ~ Ten ~ Eleven ~ Twelve
Warnings for: Nothing today! An extremely prestigious laboratory is attacked overnight and International Rescue are called in to help with the clean up. But there is more than meets the eye. What Brains discovers is only the tip of a very large iceberg that could threaten every single person on the planet. Tagging: @thunder-tober @skymaiden32 @idontknowreallywhy @mrmustachious
EDGE Laboratories were appropriately named due to their work on developing cutting edge technologies. It had been a mere coincidence, the naming: Environment Dynamics and Global Elevation. They were a relatively new company that had received prestigious funding from the World Council themselves to aid in the research work that was being undertaken to maintain the planet’s ecology and climate. Most of their projects were top secret, with goods and equipment being transported via the Global Defence Force for extra security, but the general idea of their work was known within the science community.
Despite their altruistic nature, EDGE had not escaped certain controversies, mainly stemming from groups of internet keyboard warriors who believed one search was the equivalent to years of extensive research and study. Most of the issues that were raised were easily debunked or disproven with a simple graph or a research paper published, though, of course, many of those conspiracy theorists never believed them. It was a constant battle between scientists and the disbelievers, but it was never a battle that caused much concern.
Until that October accident.
EDGE hadn’t yet unveiled their latest, life-saving device. There had been rumours of one but nothing had been confirmed. Doctor Lyra Fernsby had been teasing her team’s work for months in the lead up to the announcement, which had only allowed the conspiracy theorists to stoke more fires for EDGE to try and extinguish. Dr. Fernsby and her team had seemed unfazed, however, and had allowed the media to be drip-fed information slowly over the course of the summer.
Nobody had foreseen an outright attack on the laboratories and so no preparation had been made in preventing such an intrusion. Situated on Killegray, an island uninhabited and so assumed to be safe, one of the EDGE labs — where their new technology was being trialled — were ambushed overnight. Security perimeters were breached and the few guards that were stationed in the complex had tried to hold off the intruders with little effect. Molotov cocktails seemed to be the attackers choice of weapon and it wasn’t long before most of EDGE caught fire. The volatile nature of the laboratories, their equipment and resources, meant an evacuation of the small team on site that night was needed ASAP. The GDF and International Rescue had arrived on the scene by dawn-break. 
By the time they had arrived, most of the EDGE laboratory had been destroyed. Thankfully, as it was night, most of the scientists that were based in the Killegray laboratories had been on the mainland, waiting for the morning boat ride over to begin their day shift. There had only been a few worked inside the labs when they were attacked, and they had all managed to get to relative safety.
With no people to save, Virgil and Scott turned their attention to the stability of the buildings. 
Brains, who had willingly joined Virgil in Thunderbird Two (much to both brothers’ shock) had already begun the calculations in his head the minute Two had landed. Of course, without reliable data from the site itself, his answers were only estimations and, thankfully, it didn’t take much convincing to get Virgil to accompany him into the smouldering devastation.
Suited in appropriate gear to avoid injury or worse, Brains and Virgil — who was now clad in his exo-suit — entered the remains of the labs. Brains found himself being extremely thankful for their masks. The fire exposed the air to whatever EDGE had been working on in this specific section, making the section extremely toxic. His mind posed different theories about what could have caused such poisonous fumes. Some of his conclusions hit the mark more accurately, perhaps, but none of them, Brains deemed, were actually the truth. 
Dr. Fernsby had flown over with the GDF and Brains made a mental note to speak to her about EDGE’s work once he and Virgil were finished doing the checks inside the building. There were some questions he had that were purely out of the curiosity of his scientific mind, but there were some that were more pressing.
Namely, what had they been working on that had conspiracy theorists so panicked that they resorted to such a violent outburst. Desperate people, desperate times, desperate measures…
Brains knew better than to believe in conspiracies, but that didn’t mean he didn’t understand the implications of them. If someone was to resort to totally destroying somewhere, and possibly a destroying a few lives along the way, whatever they believed must have been strong enough, and frightening enough, for them to carry out the act. Whatever was in this lab…
 “Readings behind here… I can’t get a fix.” Virgil noted, coming to a halt outside of a metal door. 
Whilst Brains was searching for toxins in the air, Virgil had been doing an analysis of the building’s structure. Given the incessant beeping from both their devices during their entire trek so far, Brains had theorised that these labs wouldn’t be open for people to use again for a long, long time.
Virgil rapped his knuckles against the door. “Still solid. Very solid.”
The metal looked to have been slightly singed by the fire but had remained remarkably undamaged engulfing inferno that had destroyed the rest of the corridor. Charred walls lined the hallway. A couch that had been positioned a few feet away had been completely burned and was now crumbling into ash. The light fixture on the ceiling had burst and glass had shattered across the blackened flooring.
Yet this door had remained pretty much unscathed. 
Whatever metal it had been crafted from hadn’t melted under the intense heat. Titanium, maybe? Molybdenum? Brains laid his palm against it and, despite his heavily gloved, protected hand and despite the heat that should have at least warmed the metal, the door was freezing cold.
“Hey, check it out.” Virgil pressed his own gloved hand over a circular side panel. Like the door, it had remained intact. It even operated as normal. “Open sesame.”
The metal door opened without a hitch. Smoothly, it slid upwards to reveal a chamber that was still pristine and untouched by flame. White floors and white walls were the stark opposite of the outside corridor’s burnt ruins. 
Brains offered Virgil a cautious look. He seemed to take note of it, to understand what Brains was saying: Be careful. This is weird. Tread carefully. Virgil offered him a small nod of recognition and then carefully took a step inside.
Their dusty boots left black footprints on the tiling, soot and ash falling from their suits and onto the pristine floor. Bunsen burners lined one work surface, with other scientific equipment being neatly arranged on others. Whatever this chamber was, it seemed to be a working lab, just as the rest of EDGE’s building had been. Somehow, this one had managed to escape the carnage.
The whirling from Virgil’s exo-suit as he walked across the lab was the only sound. It echoed through the chamber eerily. Something told Brains that they shouldn’t be there, but he rarely listened to gut feelings and he wasn’t about to start now.
Virgil reached the far end of the room, halting in front of some computer systems. He began to type into the screens, no doubt trying to ascertain what kind of work was being done in the lab. To have this amount of protection, whatever the project was, it must have been important. Brains wondered whether it was where most of EDGE’s more secretive experiments took place. A sealed laboratory, unable to be breached from the outside.
His theory was only strengthened when he tried to contact Scott, who was still with the ground crew, and received nothing but static in return.
“Something about this room seems… wrong.” Virgil commented, as though reading Brains’s mind. He continued to type away at the terminals with no luck. Sighing, Virgil  took a step away and threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “It’s a shame comms are down, else we could ask John to hack this thing.”
“M-Move over. Let me try.”
Brains joined Virgil at the computers and began his own attempt of hacking in. 
It was no easy feat, but Brains had always enjoyed a challenge. He might not have been a great hacker like John was, but he could still find his way around code easy enough. Within a few seconds, he had broken their firewall. Another minute and he was able to pull up the latest schematics to whatever work the lab technicians had been overseeing in the chamber.
Virgil’s eyes squinted, not from an ability to see but from a lack of understanding. Brains, much to his annoyance, found himself in the same boat.
“What… is that?” Virgil asked out-loud, not caring for being overheard due to their belief in the laboratories being empty of life. “Is that some sort of… drone, maybe? A transport machine?”
Brains flicked through more of the files, skipping over reports and landing on a blueprint that gave the two engineers a better idea of what they were looking at.
The structure was something Brains had never seen before, a remarkable feat of engineering. Over five foot high, with a domed top and a gradually protruding body. Blueprints showed capabilities for the machine to be used for transport, as Virgil had suggested, but there was more. Brains zoomed into the hologrammatic blueprint, eyes scouring each and every detail. He couldn’t ascertain what each element was meant to do; blue orbs on the base skirt seemed more decorative than anything else, but when were scientists so keen on the aesthetics of prototypes? What appeared to be an eyestalk stuck out from the dome, with two more extensions lower down toward the middle of the prototype's… body. It felt wrong using human terms to describe a machine.
“O-Oh, my.”
“What is it, Brains?”
There was something fundamentally wrong with the machine. Brains hadn’t noticed it at first. Then again, he couldn’t exactly blame himself for it. It wasn’t everyday one came across such a variety of unknown materials. Alien materials.
Brains changed the screen back to the reports, scanning the data that was offered. Virgil, as patient as always, waited for him to assess whatever it was he needed to. Brains found himself glad he was with him rather than Scott. Repeats of the question, growing more and more irate as Scott became impatient, would have been infuriating. With Virgil, he had time to properly evaluate the work in front of him and—
His face dropped.
It was an impossibility.
Virgil had detected his shoulder slump, the way his mouth hung agape. “Brains?”
“T-the composite of the door… The w-walls… It’s not of—”
Brains broke off and began jogging over to the structure neither of them had really taken notice of when they’d first entered. 
It could only have been described as an incredibly large capsule and had them both dwarfed. Brains estimated the height of it easily reaching just over eight foot and, if he had to guess, Brains would have hypothesised it being made of the same material as whatever the rest of the room had been made from. A hand to the hull told him it felt the same.
It also informed him of the capsule humming. He staggered back a step.
“M-Metal c-cannot be alive.”
Virgil crossed the room to stand at Brains’s side. Where there had once been confusion on his face, now there was pure concern. “What do you mean?”
Brains didn’t offer a response, his entire focus solely on the problem in front of them. Because it was a problem. Just what had EDGE Laboratories been experimenting with down here? The question should have been enough to stop Brains from wandering over to the entrance hatch, but it didn’t. Curiosity got the better of him.
Like the door outside, the panel worked and opened the first door to the capsule.
“Brains?” Virgil’s whisper was still laced with concern. When he wasn’t answered, he tried more sternly. “Brains!”
Brains was far too curious to listen. He ignored the warning tone in Virgil’s voice and stepped into the capsule.
The door led to an antechamber, with two more of those metal doors: one to his left and one to his right. With no appearance of an opening panel, the left-hand side didn’t seem to have a way to open it. That saved him the trouble of choosing. Brains strolled over to the right. 
Behind him, still in the laboratory, Virgil still stood, clearly torn over whether he should follow him or not. “Brains? We should get out of here.”
“In a m-minute, Virgil.”
Like the previous two doors before, the metal wooshed and slid open. The humming seemed louder from inside this room, though still faint and subtle, and whilst he was growing increasingly curious, Brains didn’t dare step over this threshold. There was something about this room that had his skin crawling. For once in his life, Brains decided to listen to that gut feeling.
The room beyond the threshold was dark, but enough light filtered through from the laboratory behind him so Brains could make out shadows. One shadow, to be more precise. The shadow of a now-familiar shape. 
From the doorway, he could make out key parts of the structure and he could tell that the prototype was yet to be finished, if the blueprints were anything to go by. Holes in the bodywork of the Transport Machine (as Brains had so eloquently named it for now, for his own benefit) suggested that it was only partly built and was still awaiting completion.
“Brains!” Virgil snapped in his ear.
He hadn’t realised Virgil had joined him. So wrapped up in the thoughts and theories running around his mind, Brains jumped out of his skin.
Virgil, in a tone that was full of guilt, returned to his whispers. “Sorry, but we really should be— Is that…?” He trailed off, evidently having only just noticed the structure standing in the dark. Unlike Brains, Virgil ignored any primal fears and walked straight into the room.
“B-Be careful. We don’t want to set off a-any a-alarms.”
“It’s incredible!” Virgil marvelled the machine, his exo-suit still making that clunking sound with each step. It whirred as he lifted an arm to trace his finger from the domed head down to the midsection. He gestured to the two holes. “Brains, look. It doesn’t look finished.”
Virgil remained mesmerised by the machine for a few more seconds, broken only by the shock of what happened next.
The end of the eyestalk began to light up, and the machine began to move.
Brains could feel his stomach churn with fear. Virgil jumped away from the prototype and without a glance back, began to usher Brains from the room.
They left the capsule, Virgil closing the doors behind him with another press of the panels.
“W-We should—”
Brains was cut off by clicking of guns. 
In front of them Dr. Fernsby stood with two armed guards at her side, their weapons trained on them.
“You saw it.” It was more of a statement than a question. Fernsby ignored Virgil’s glare. 
“What the hell is that thing? The whole place felt…”
“Alive?” She offered, her smile twisting into a sly grin. Her eyes roamed over the two in front of her, as though she were sizing them up, before gesturing to the guards to advance.
“Take them to join the other one. Make sure they’re not seen.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As the guards drew closer, Brains realised that they weren’t GDF guards. The insignia on their uniforms was wrong. Since when did EDGE have their own private army?
Virgil was unceremoniously stripped of his exo-suit. Clearly he thought it better to co-operate than resist, what with the barrel of a gun pointing at his head. 
The suit was thrown into a corner. Brains flinched at the sound of parts breaking.
“You’ll have to pay for that.” Virgil quipped, earning him a clobber around his head. It was a hard enough hit to daze him and one of the guards found himself dragging a limp Virgil from the room.
Brains felt the barrel of the second guard’s gun dig into his back.
“Move!” The almost robotic-sounding guard ordered.
He was in no means a fighter and so didn’t give following the order a second thought. With the threat still very evidently behind him, Brains followed the first guard out. 
He just hoped that Scott would realise something was wrong in time before things escalated any further.
21 notes · View notes