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#virgil tracy
gumnut-logic · 9 hours
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Driving Home
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Just a quick scene, prompted by something I saw on the way home from work/school.
Younger Tracys, a Scotty thoughts moment that doesn't really go anywhere.
-o-o-o-
The traffic lights lit up his brother’s face in the darkness. Scott couldn’t help but smile at Virgil, head smushed against the passenger-side door, asleep.
His brother was at the end of his degree. Graduating after years of toil while Scott had been away in the Air Force.
Scott had made a point to get leave to be there for Virgil on his big day. Dad couldn’t make it, but hell or highwater, Scott had skipped continents to see his brother get his piece of paper.
John had been there, gaining leave from NASA training, but the two youngest were home with Grandma, so it had been a reunion of the three eldest, two of them taking out the third to celebrate.
And celebrate they did.
Until John needed to leave.
There were hugs at the airport, even a soppy tear on Virgil’s part as they separated and said goodbye to their space-destined brother.
It was just the two of them from that point on. Scott could have flown them both home, but he had opted for a road trip back to Kansas. It wasn’t really that far, and honestly, he needed some time with Virgil.
Today had been great, driving across state lines. Really just talking, sharing experiences, taking the opportunity to wind down after a hectic…everything.
Scott had the wheel, determined to let his little brother rest. And eventually, after chatterboxing about anything and everything, Virgil had slipped into a snooze just as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Scott was oddly grateful for it.
Not that he wanted silence, if anything he missed his brother’s excited voice.
It was more that…
It was a return to the norm.
They hadn’t seen each other for so long. Scott missed his brothers, all of them, but he also missed this. Just the two of them, hanging out together, being themselves, the sense of trust Virgil had in him. That knowledge that Virgil believed in Scott.
Sure, snoozing while his brother drove was far from life threatening. But it was done without thought.
It was reassuring to know that despite all his time away, Virgil still had that familiar faith in him.
The lights changed to green and Scott eased the car into the intersection, smoothly bringing it up to speed without disturbing Virgil at all. It wasn’t really required because his brother was almost impossible to wake up most of the time, but he did it for love anyway.
He really was getting corny in his old age.
He could almost hear Virgil’s chuckle at the thought.
God, he missed this.
He had buddies in the Force, yes, but his brothers…
Amber street lights strobed over Virgil’s lax features.
His brother…
Virgil snorted and shifted where he sat, his mouth drooping open and beginning to drool.
…was laughably gross.
Scott snorted, half tempted to poke Virgil awake. Thank goodness this was a hire car.
But his smile returned.
It really was good to be together again.
-o-o-o-
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Resurface 10 - Recall
Maybe could be the next instalment of Resurface (a.k.a. the psychotic Virgil fic) or maybe could be a standalone - any thoughts? Inspired by a song which, it turns out, fits the situation rather well. Some sad Earth&Sky… given I’d managed zero words for days and have found that very irritating I’m gonna run with whatever! Edit to add: Yeah I’m calling it. So what if the fic has a random songfic chapter… it’s Virg…
💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚
He floated in the darkness, weightless yet weighed down. There was nothing to see, nothing to feel. Nothing to smell. Yet he could SEE the dark in an overwhelming level of detail and his nerves rejected the empty tactile nothingness and told him cold instead.
There was sound in the void, but it was intermittent and muffled, as if he was underwater. Voices… familiar but unhappy bubbled past him. If only they’d speak more clearly perhaps he could fix whatever the problem was… but he found he couldn’t move his arms or… his head or… anything so fixing was probably out of the question. He wondered if there anything of him left to move?
He wondered if he was… gone… and found he couldn’t feel too strongly about the idea. Hello darkness, Virgil was ready to succumb.
Oh… Virgil. He had a name. Well there it is.
He knew he was supposed to fight the dark but he was so tired. He was also aware the reason he kept fighting was no more. Although he wasn’t entirely sure what that had been… it nagged at him. It had been important. He was pretty sure it had been everything - there was just a hollow space where he imagined his chest would be. Was odd he couldn’t remember. If he could move his face he’d frown at that.
Maybe it was just that Afterwards you didn’t remember Before?
He only hoped this nothing wouldn’t be everything - the lack of comprehensible sensory input was maddening. Not to mention he had an irritating earworm that was disproving his theory about not remembering. And that would be really annoying to think about for eternity. What even was it? Some kids’ film…
Can there be a day beyond this night? I don’t know anymore what is true.
Huh. Pretty dark for something aimed at children.
Mind you, children felt things pretty strongly. He’d always had, as far as he could tell. It’s why art and music worked for him. He remembered that too. Alright, memory was a thing then. Given the lack of anything else to do he cast his mind back, trying to recall something, anything… about who he was.
Trees. He could picture trees and feel the drop in the wind as he stepped amongst them. One in particular which was taller than the rest… a pecan. The scaly bark scratched at his fingertips as he peered up into the rustling branches overhead. Wait! He tried to shout but no sound came out! Wait! He wasn’t tall enough! He couldn’t follow! He stood on his tiptoes and stretched towards the hand that reached down out of the leaves but his fingers only brushed the air. He gasped, a bigger hand landed on his shoulder and it all went black again.
He was on his knees on the dusty tarmac and his knees were stinging but not as much as his eyes. The back of the big yellow bus blurred as he cursed his little legs for not being able to catch up with it. He squeaked in horror as a truck thundered past, horn blaring and then large hands were pulling his shoulders, dragging him to the grass. Sharp words, scared words. They told him he couldn’t follow. He wasn’t big enough for big school yet. He couldn’t always follow. He lifted his hands from his knees and stared at the redness that highlighted the wrinkles in his palms. A sob choked him and the red spread out and covered everything.
That large hand was tugging at his elbow, but Virgil wasn’t easy to move against his will. He relented and took one pace backwards, moving his right foot down one of the stone steps leading away from the ornate doorway with a lone figure standing in it. The others had gone back inside to continue the celebration. But one remained, watching them leave, smiling. The stupidly massive doors made him look small and he’d never looked small before. The left foot wouldn’t move. The arm tugged at him but he couldn’t. He couldn’t not follow. The figure waved again, straightened the smart blue coat with the silver buttons and gave a cheeky salute before turning and walking away. Virgil had no breath to cry out to him to stop, he could only reach out silently towards the retreating blue.
I follow you around, I always have, but you’ve gone to a place I cannot find.
No. The song was wrong. NO! He thrashed against the nothing and gagged on the bile that rose up in a throat that could suddenly feel, could suddenly burn, could agonisingly scream out loud:
“SCOTT!”
💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙
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tinytracys · 1 day
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Now THIS is a reasonably sized mug…
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edutainer2022 · 2 days
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I'm in a very complicated (non)relationship with faith and religion. Loss, grief, and war do a number on that. And I'm in a weird mood (also insanely busy). I would assume the Tracies too have a complicated (and different for each) relationship with faith and spirituality, in their line of work. It's Easter time. So here's a little Earth and Sky piece centered around that time of the year, memories, fears, and love, of course. All blatant parallels with religious symbolism are all on my agnostic self, I mean no disrespect whatsoever!
EASTER
Christmas was easy. Approachable. Christmas was always about family and snuggling, comfy pijamas and Lord of the Rings rewatch maraphons, and gifts for everyone, cinnamon, cocoa, decorations and garlands. Christmas was manageable even after Mom. Then after Dad. Never the same, but manageable.
Easter was weird... In their childhood Easter was always a whirl of colors and activities - egg die on every surface besides the eggshells, egg hunts on the farm and ranch, chocolate prizes, bright baskets, and laughter. And Mom. Always Mom at the center of it all, orchestrating and directing the colorful chaos. Mom told them stories. An Irish Catholic, Mom made a point to go to mass on Easter morning, although she didn't insist they go with. They usually did, dressed in Sunday best, even Gordie on his best behavior. There would be waffles and ice-cream on the way back from the church, and sprinkles in John's hair. With Mom gone the colors muted. The whirlwind stopped. The spring lost its promise. It felt almost a blasphemy to celebrate a resurrection after a loss they suffered. Scott tried to uphold the egghunts for Gordie, who barely remembered his with Mom, and for Allie, who didn't, but it fell flat.
Dad never much discussed spirituality with them. An astronaut, a war veteran, a widower, he held certain cards close to his soul. They grew up with boundless belief in scientific knowledge and answers to be pursued by scientific methods. If there were no answers this side of known universe, that meant the science was yet to catch up. They all helped with catching up a lot. As much as they grew up with boundless belief in each other (that and an elaborate array of superstitions, given their respective specializations). And a firm conviction Mom was an angel up in heaven, watching over them. It all made sense when a brother's comms were silent in the danger zone or a brother's hand was limp and cold over hospital covers. Unbeknowest to them, through the endless night alone in outer space, their father always had but one prayer: "Look after them, my love! Keep them all safe as I can't!"
In a rare arrangement of circumstances, they were all at the farm for Easter weekend, for a change. Some issues needed to be dealt with the estate. And it was an unspoken opportunity to visit Mom's grave. (And Dad's headstone over an empty casket, right next to her). Virgil found Scott at the backporch, seated on the stairs overlooking the meadow. Alone. As he suspected he would. Virgil would have been happy to just plop down and sit it out with biggest brother shoulder to shoulder till dusk, giving him room to just be and a friendly ear, should he want one. Scott had been in a mood all day, maybe all week. So much so even John was worried, who didn't get to observe Scott in his natural brooding state up close often. Biggest brother was obviously not forthcoming with any conversation starters. Virgil took his chances and nudged a flannel clad shoulder to his right. In their childhood home Scott always dug out old, broken in flannel, albeit in blue.
"I think about going to Mom's church tomorrow morning. You wanna come with?"
It was a multi-layered invitation and Virgil knew it. It would imply quality time away from the general mayhem for just the two of them, a chance to gather one's thoughts and to connect to Mom in a way that was special to her, even a chance to bring home a decent breakfast from the diner in the town, across the church. They would then all pack up in two cars, make a trip to the cemetery, pay their respects, and have an Easter dinner all together as a family. Virgil nudged his brother's shoulder again, looking up with hope. Scott's gaze was still far away.
"You wanna go to Easter mass?"
Virgil felt self-conscious suddenly. He loved the music and the spirit of celebration. Generally loved the idea of connecting to something bigger. Connecting to Mom. He tried another angle.
"You don't believe?"
Mom did - left unspoken over the evening meadow. Scott hummed at that, blue eyes finally landing on his brother. The sadness there left Virgil breathless.
"What? Whether a guy could resurrect in three days? I don't honestly know if I believe that, Virg. But I do believe one could die for all of himanity."
Dad did - another silent echo over the meadow.
That, right there, was Virgil's deepest fear. That one day Scott would leave him behind, crying and helpless, on the sideway of his own via dolorosa, dragging a crucifix through the dust and grime of a danger zone. By Dad's unspoken command.
"Please go with me to Mom's church tomorrow! We can have waffles after."
That was blatant food bribery (aka a tried and true way to get Scott to go to concerts and art galleries). But desperate times called for desperate measures.
Scott responded with an amused chuckle and lifted an arm to invite his brother into a hug. Virgil didn't need to be asked twice. Scott's old flannel shirt smelled of old machine oil from the farm tractor, fabric softener and the inextinguishable odor of his very first, hideous aftershave from way back in basic training. Virgil closed his eyes against the steady heartbeat. "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from him."
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edorazzi · 8 months
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More Thunderbirds Are Go comics! 💖✨
A couple of belated Pride Month pieces plus Gordon giving Kayo a heart attack. Alan's lucky he's the baby of the family! 🌈
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teapotteringabout · 9 months
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Idea isnt mine, this is the comic version of a snippet by @willow-salix / @selene-tempest a couple years ago (told you I'd draw this...one day!)
(Also I'm really sorry, I cant find the link to it!)
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chenria · 3 months
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Admittedly, this is an unspectacular image of Virgil Tracy just sitting around... but I had fun drawing it and playing around. Perspective is a little off... but oh well. I don't care too much to be honest. 
You might have expected something more exciting when I teased the sketch thing... But I just wanted something cozy - Virgil between missions relaxing on the sofa and playing on his phone (though I am not even sure they have mobile phones anymore ... it was easier to draw than a holo communicator thingy ... 🤷‍♀️ I just take the liberty for my small fanart). 
The potted plants are once again a CSP asset - asset makers make artists's lives so much easier sometimes. Bless them! 
P.S. Patrons get the high res version of personal art as well as "process snapshots" and other behind the scenes information ;) (Link in header.)
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flyboytracy · 22 days
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Heeeeey flyboy,
Did you ever make a gif of that moment at the end of ROF2 where everyone GASP IN HORROR reacts to Grandma’s nice family dinner suggestion (just before they all make excuses to leave)? If not… pleeeease would you have a look and see if the urge-to-gif arises?
(I tried it once ages back when I got mildly obsessed with the scene but it was appalling quality because I had no idea what I was doing… would be amazing to have a PROPER one living on tumblr to use in Situations where GASP is the appropriate reaction 😁)
💙
Hola :D The world always needs more GIFs from Ring of Fire
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<333
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lenfantdeverone · 4 months
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I think this one picture on Jeff's desk in the movie isn't talked about enough, it's so cute and silly and Jeff has the classic dad™️ pose
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katblu42 · 21 days
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Symphony
Been thinking about this one a bit over the last few days, so I thought I'd give it a bit of a re-run.
It's just a bit of fluffy, music-related Earth and Sky.
Scott tore his eyes away from the unread emails, stretched his arms above his head, let out a long breath and turned the chair away from the desk to face Virgil at the piano.
“I like this one.  What’s it called?”
“It doesn’t really have a name.”
“I’ve heard you play it before, though.  Did you write it?”
There was the slightest hint of hesitation in Virgil’s response, although the music never wavered.
“I guess you could say that.  I haven’t ever really thought about notating it.”
“Aren’t you concerned you might forget it?”
A wry smile crept across the musician’s features, but he said nothing. 
“You should write it down.  And come up with a name for it.”
Virgil tilted his head a little by way of considering the notion, then asked “Why do you like it?  What does it make you think of?”
Scott stood, stretching more muscles, letting the music carry his thoughts away from TI paperwork as his gaze drifted upwards.
“Well, I like the way the melody climbs and swirls.  It kind of reminds me of flying.  And there’s a feeling of constant motion, fast, easy – sort of free.”  He closed his eyes for a moment before returning his gaze to his brother.  “In some ways it kinda reminds me of Dad.”
Virgil’s response began with the quirk of an eyebrow and the hint of a smile.
“Funny you should say that . . .”
“Why?  Is it about Dad?”
Virgil finished the last phrase, letting the final chord hang in the air before taking a slow breath and looking up at his big brother.
“No.  It’s you.”
“Me?”  Sapphire eyes widened with surprise bordering on shock, and his forehead creased in puzzlement.  “You wrote a song about me?”
Virgil looked back at the piano. 
“Not exactly.  It’s more like . . .” His gaze drifted upward.  “It’s hard to explain.  It’s sort of how I hear your presence, or your essence or something . . . I don’t know.”  His voice trailed off into mumbles and a shrug.
Scott was left speechless, staring at his brother’s awkward uncertainty, as the significance of his own interpretation of the music and what it represented really hit home.  It took him a moment, and he had to work to bring moisture back into his mouth before he finally found his voice again.
“Do . . .  do you have something like this for all of us?”
Virgil felt the heat of a blush rising in his cheeks, and he didn’t look up from the piano.
“Uh, yeah.  I sort of do.”  His hands drifted back to the keys and a new piece of music began, one with a complimentary theme to Scott’s.  It was in the same key, had the same tempo, and still embodied that sense of soaring movement, but this one felt somehow bigger, more far-reaching – almost heroic.
Scott let out a gasp.  “Is that . . .?  This one is . . . It’s Dad, isn’t it?”
Virgil gave a single nod.
“It fits with yours.  Like the second theme in a sonata-allegro.”  Virgil glanced over at his brother, taking in the blank look at the musical term.  “That’s the usual form for the opening movement of a symphony.”  His eyes drifted closed as he played, and he sighed.  “I can hear them both in counterpoint, but I can’t play both at the same time and do them justice.  I’d need an orchestra for that.”
Dumbfounded at this revelation, Scott could only marvel at his brother’s musicality.  Here he was listening to these amazing musical creations that rendered larger than life, full-colour images in his mind, and Virgil was complaining that what he could do with the piano alone was not enough.  He didn’t think he could even imagine what this music must sound like inside Virgil’s head.
The music came to a stop and Virgil turned again to look up at Scott.
“The variations on these two themes would encompass something like what I hear for Grandma and Kayo, a little of Brains, some of Grandpa . . .” he turned away again, “then everything would come back to you and Dad.”
For a moment silence hung between them.  Virgil’s fingers flexed, as though the music within him was searching for a way out as they reached once again for the piano keys.  A new piece of music began.  This one slower, gentler, quieter in terms of movement if not exactly in terms of volume.  Scott felt this one was more thoughtful and emotional.  It brought to mind light and colour and had a sense of space, but it also somehow felt warm.
“Mom?” The smallest possible upward inflection made it a question, which was answered with another nod and the soft smile that made his little brother look so much like her.
The melody moved and changed, built, swelled, adding a complexity in the musical patterns reminiscent of a conversation, an exchanging of information.  The lightness now sparked imagery of stars. The feeling of space changed from that of a breeze in an open field to the vastness beyond Earth’s atmosphere. The gentleness was now reinforced with a sense of almost hidden strength – Scott thought that might’ve come from a stronger bass line, but he wasn’t sure.
“Is this . . . John?”
Virgil’s smile brightened.  “You’re good at this.”
“No, the music speaks for itself.  You’re the one painting these images of our family with notes and chords.”
The smile faltered as Virgil held the last chord, then he let his shoulders sink a little.  Scott silently cursed himself for bringing back that awkward self-consciousness in his brilliant brother, but before he could say anything Virgil spoke again.
“I guess they would be the second movement if this were a symphony.”  There was a brief pause, then he straightened back into his playing posture.  “No prizes for guessing who the third movement is.”
This piece of music was a jaunty, up-beat number that seemed designed to make people move – to dance, to tap their feet or clap along.  It definitely felt like a dance of some sort, and it contained hints of sea shanties, or maybe a sailor’s hornpipe.  It was the musical equivalent of laughter, sunshine, pure happiness, and it had a lilt that moved like the sea.
“Gordon!” Scott exclaimed with a laugh.
The comparatively brief third movement came to its conclusion, but Virgil barely paused before beginning what Scott guessed to be the fourth.
“And that leaves . . .” Virgil spoke softly as he began the final theme.
This one was in march tempo, strong, bright, driving forward with a sense of heroic purpose, and bringing back some of that swirling, soaring movement from earlier.  Scott could pick out hints of his own theme, and a faster version of parts of John’s, but the piece definitely had its own identity. There was a sense of urgency to it, as though the melody was trying to push the tempo into moving faster.
“Wow.  Alan would love this,” Scott found himself thinking aloud.
Virgil stopped playing after the end of the next phrase.
“There would be more.  If this was a symphony, I mean.  The fourth movement would bring in some more of the other main themes, tie everything together, finish with a bit of fanfare.”  Virgil was once again looking up at Scott, a mixture of curiosity and self-consciousness etched into his features.  “You really think Alan would like it?”
“Virgil,” Scott answered with a sigh and a shake of his head as he took the few strides over towards the piano stool, “it’s amazing.  All of it.  The whole symphony.”
Virgil gave a shrug and his brow creased a little.
“There’s a lot more to it in my mind.  Only so much can be translated through the piano.”
“Then orchestrate it.”
A sigh, a shake of the head and a hint of a smile was the only response.  Scott firmly planted a hand on his brother’s shoulder and piercing blue eyes locked gaze with warm brown ones.
“I mean it, Virgil.  Write your symphony.  Give it the life it deserves.”
Scott could see the struggle to find the right words as Virgil’s eyes struggled to hold with his.
“I . . . It’s not mine, Scott, it’s . . .” Virgil lost the battle to keep looking at the determined pride in his big brother’s blue eyes.  His gaze lowered and he focused on his hands.  “I mean . . . it’s all of you.  It’s not music I’ve created, it’s the music that you are.”  Then, almost too quiet to hear, “At least to me.”
“So, you don’t want to share it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said this symphony isn’t yours.  I think you’re wrong.  It’s very much yours.  Something that you maybe want to hang onto, keeping it all for yourself.  And that’s okay.”  Scott shifted his grip, pulling his brother close.  “After all, this is family – The Tracy Family Symphony.  And if I’m the only one who ever gets to hear even this glimpse of what you carry in your heart, then I consider myself privileged.”
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forest-falcon · 5 months
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Earthbreaker
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gumnut-logic · 2 months
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Five pick ups and one drop off (Pick up 4)
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Pick up 1 | Pick up 2 | Pick up 3 | Pick up 4
Scott is tired and a little pissed off, so watch for language. Again, kinda crack just for fun.
I hope you enjoy.
-o-o-o-
Scott Tracy needed to re-apply his deodorant.
He was beginning to get a bit whiffy. But that’s what happens went you cut halfway across the planet after pulling a dozen people out from under a building in Taiwan.
As it was, he’d had to leave Virgil to liaise with local services to make it in time.
Thunderbird One wasn’t known for her shower facilities, but he had foreseen that in the past and his office in New York was set up with all the amenities including a spare business suit or two.
But that was a good five hours ago. If there was one advantage of crossing the dateline, it was the preservation of sunlight. He had the great pleasure of living the same day over again. With less concrete dust.
But more numbers and more annoying people.
One thing about rescue sites, bar the occasional asshole, was that the people there were usually very, very happy to see Scott and his brothers.
Here in the board room he received the distinct impression that at least several of the members would be much happier with his absence so they could do exactly what they wanted.
Which was what had been happening and why he was here.
“Sir, why the higher expenditure? Their employees are not our responsibility.”
Scott grit his teeth and his blood pressure sung in his ears. “We are saving the company and its employees. I believe with the correct financial support, they can become a solid division of Tracy Industries. We are not in the business of destroying lives.”
“This is not a rescue site, Tracy, this is business!”
Scott straightened from where he had been bent over the conference table, glaring at Martin at the far end, and pulled himself up to his full height before turning to glare at Landers on his left. “Not the way we conduct it.” His tone turned acid. “Do you think caring makes us soft, Landers?”
“Yes, it does. You are destroying our profit margin.”
Scott could not give a fuck about this particular profit margin. They were absorbing a large manufacturing business with its heart in country USA. If they didn’t handle the situation carefully, a good hundred thousand employees looked to lose lifetime jobs. The impact on the people and society would be massive. Not to mention a foolish move as TI’s most important asset was its talent. And there was good talent out there. The business had been struggling, but only to out compete TI, which it could no longer.
Its product was excellent. Brains and Virgil had done an assessment and agreed that the teams had potential. All they needed to do was absorb them into TI and then manage them into a better working culture in order to support that talent.
But it was obvious certain members of the board did not see things the same way as the Tracy brothers. Yes, the profit margin would suffer, may even go into cost in the short term, but it was the long term Scott Tracy was interested in and not lining his pockets at the cost of other people’s lives.
Tracy Industries was big and stable enough to take a hit for the common good.
“Landers…” Scott really wished his head wasn’t hurting so much. “…just go.”
“What? Go where?”
“Out.” Scott waved an irritated hand at the door. “Get out!”
“You can’t-“
“GO!”
The whole room jumped.
Landers glared everything at Scott, swore under his breath, and made a scene of gathering his tablet and collection of paraphernalia off the table and stomping towards the exit.
The moment he left, murmured protests rumbled around the room.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Carly, his EA, talking into her headset. A moment later Jeremy, his personal security guard, stepped into the room and took up a position quite casually just inside the door.
Great.
Not the best politic move, Tracy. But Landers was a dick and he had had it coming for a long time.
Scott had just needed to be irritated enough to follow through.
He leant over the table again. “Do we have any further objections?”
Martin at the far end was noting furiously on his tablet. Yeah, more trouble would come from that direction.
Scott sighed. He really wasn’t at his best. He needed sleep. The Virgil at the back of his head was jumping up and down on his neurons demanding he stop growling at staff and come home.
There was a knock at the door and that same brother, still dressed in his IR uniform, stuck his head through. “Hey, excuse me, I need to borrow the President for a moment.”
The room was still rumbling and didn’t really respond. Scott strode over to his brother. “What is it?”
“Come out here for a sec.”
“I can’t leave right now.”
“Yes, you can.” A heavy lifting arm reached in and yanked him out into the hall.
“Virgil, what the hell?”
But his brother was busy staring at him, dark eyes assessing him as if he was capable of medically scanning him with the melanin in his eyeballs. “You’re coming with me.” And before Scott could react - a definite sign of exhaustion if there was one - Virgil lifted him in one quick move and threw him over his shoulder.
“Virgil, what the fuck?!” He struggled, but Virgil was known for his iron grip and even in Scott’s worst moments, he couldn’t hurt his brother.
“We are going home.”
“It’s an important meeting!” The view of the floor and his brother’s butt was infuriating.
“I know. Which is why we let you go initially. However, that was hours ago, and before you disassemble the board one by one, we are intervening.”
“We?”
“Hi, Scott.”
He cranked his head up just in time to see John walk past in a crisp turquoise-grey suit. “What? John? Virgil, put me down!”
“Nope.” They entered an elevator…going up, no doubt to the roof.
“Virgil, please. John will eviscerate them.”
“Yep.” They stepped out into sunlight.
“Aww, c’mon. They’re scared of him.”
“Yep.” A big green shadow loomed over them and Virgil stepped onto her elevator, giving Scott a fantastic view of checkerplate and nothing else. “It will do them good.”
“Virg-“
“Nope. Bed.”
“Please?”
His brother kicked the wall of the cockpit and folded down one of the stretchers. He rolled Scott gently off his shoulder, carefully catching his head and neck and let him sink into the soft medical support.
Every muscle cheered in gratitude.
“Virg…” God, he was tired.
His brother responded by brushing a hair out of his eyes, his gloved hand pushing Scott’s mess of hair back from his forehead. Kind eyes looked down at him. “You need rest, big brother.”
Sure fingers darted over his body, doing up safety straps and securing him in place, and for some reason Scott did not have the energy to protest.
He fell asleep halfway across the Pacific lulled to rest by the comforting roar of his brother’s ‘bird.
-o-o-o-
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lenle-g · 2 months
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I'm having a feeling, and that feeling is called Virgil Tracy, artist, pianist, getting into engineering because his little brother crashed a hydrofoil, and he wants to make things that are bigger, better, and safer to keep anything like it from ever happening again
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idontknowreallywhy · 21 days
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Resurface 2 - React
Smashed out some more words on the old commute. Am writing poor Virgil’s story from both ends now - this sits somewhere in the future where it all comes back to bite him (and happens immediately after this scene).
Train fic means unedited for now so please forgive heinous errors. Also it was a toss up between “solar flare” and “rare earth minerals” (thanks @gumnut-logic) for what is hampering Five and EOS for tension purposes - had to hamper them somehow else they are a bit OP. Also one of the other Thunderbirds has Magic so… *fudges everything*
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“HOW CAN HE HAVE DISAPPEARED? WE LIVE ON AN ISLAND!!”
“I’m doing my best, Scott, but the solar flare is overwhelming some of Five’s sensors… there are only so many overrides EOS and I can…”
“Sorry. Yes. I’m sorry, John, it’s just…”
“I know.” The precise set of John’s jaw revealed his tension but otherwise he was projecting calm, sympathetic professionalism.
Scott looked around at the various shades of brave face the remainder of his family were wearing. Allie looked sick as a dog but stood tall and his shoulders were squared. Gordon was muttering aggressively and glaring at the island infographic as if it was deliberately withholding information. Brains was whispering to MAX and recalibrating scans at the speed of desperation. Kayo’s expression had set into neutral with the slightest tension in her frame which he recognised as her readiness to spring to their defence against… whatever was happening.
What WAS happening? It had been so fast and Scott had been so absorbed in his own thoughts he didn’t have any answer for what happened in the seconds between Virgil cheerily entering the room bearing coffee and him bolting like a startled hare.
“And he’s not been hiding an illness? His vitals were…”
“Entirely within normal range until 14 minutes ago when there was a sharp spike in heart rate and blood pressure for 6 minutes then he…”
“Disappeared.”
“Became invisible to Five’s scans, yes.”
“Maybe he took one of the boats?” Gordon ventured.
“Negative, EOS has scanned the dry dock, they are all still down there.”
“And no unexplained life signs?” Scott knew they’d covered this but he just couldn’t accept the answer.
John sighed but answered patiently “No, Scott that was the first thing we checked.”
Scott paced and tried to drag his mind out of the spiral of imagining the various scenarios in which his brother could be somewhere a life sign wasn’t. He needed to compartmentalise. This was just another search and rescue mission.
Rescue. Not recovery. Please not recovery.
“Ok. Manual search it is. Brains, you and Max use the drones to access the caldera and the more remote parts of the western slopes. Kayo, Gordon take Thunderbird Four on a clockwise sweep to check the beaches. Alan, you and I will…”
“JOHN!” EOS‘s voice was shrill and Scott’s heart froze.
“Thunderbird Shadow has commenced her launch sequence!”
Kayo’s eyes widened in shock.
“SHADOW? What? Why?”
Everyone looked blank.
“Is Virgil in there? Can you reach him?”
“Sorry Scott, she’s already cloaked and there’s no reply on comms.”
“Stop the launch then!”
“I can’t, we’re locked out.”
“I can.” Kayo, pulled up her remote access and wrestled with the controls for a few seconds before breathing a sigh of relief. “Ok, she’s not going anywhere. Um…”
Scott was already heading for the elevator to the hangars when his sister’s uncharacteristic uncertainty arrested him. He looked back. She swallowed.
“We may have a slight problem.”
“What? What is it Kayo??” Scott knew he was raising his voice but it was that or burst into frustrated tears which was… not an option.
EOS answered first.
“Thunderbird Shadow halted her sequence on the outside of the cliff face.”
Virgil was suspended over a death drop.
“Can we lock him inside?” Gordon had clearly reached the same horrified conclusion as his eldest brother had. Kayo shook her head.
Brains stepped forward “Unf-fortunately n-not as currently configured. The p-pilot’s ability to exit is always p-prioritised over remote a-access in c-case of… c-compromise.”
“I get it. Not your fault Brains. EOS?”
“I’m working on it Scott.”
“Good, in the meantime I’ll grab a couple of jet packs.” Scott headed for the hangar again.
“SCOTT! Wait!” John had dropped the professionalism which arrested Scott’s momentum faster than a brick wall.
“What now John??”
“Let the others go. You have to change.”
“WHAT?!”
“He can’t see you wearing… that.”
Scott looked down at the dress uniform he had forgotten he was wearing and ice crept down his spine. This… was the problem? He suddenly realised John knew something that he didn’t and cursed himself for not finding out what it was already. But now wasn’t the time.
“Right. You three, take jetpacks and get up there but don’t let him get out before I’m with you. I’ll be there asap.”
“FAB.”
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womble1 · 4 months
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Virgil Tracy?
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edorazzi · 5 months
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Happy Halloween!!! 🎃
Little Tracys all dressed up and examining their haul. Featuring uniforms from Captain Scarlet, Fireball XL5, UFO, Stingray, and of course classic Thunderbirds! 💖
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