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thebirdfantasy · 2 days ago

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OMFG WAIT I JUST DISCOVERED THIS IS A FULL FANFICTION WITH SEVERAL CHAPTERS????

IM ABOUTA WASTE MY DAY AWAY

Meet Cute

I'm in the final stages of an international move, but I didn't want to miss ThunderPride Month. I'm reposting the first chapter of my first foray into ThunderPride writing, Meet Cute.

It started as a simple one-shot and then grew into eleven chapters. I have been working on an epilogue, which might become a two-part epilogue (if Stephen remains cooperative).

I love the rare!pairing of Virgil Tracy & Stephen Furnier. I hope you do too.

Chapter One

“Virgil?”

The voice behind him in the Sydney coffee shop caught Virgil Tracy’s ear. He turned towards a familiar person.

“Dr Furnier?”

Stephen Furnier smiled. “Hello, Virgil.”

“Hello, Dr Furnier.” Virgil smiled in return.

The men shook hands.

“You saved my life. I think you should call me Stephen.” He remembered how nice Virgil Tracy smelled when the IR operative had carried him onto Thunderbird Two. His cologne scent was light but very appealing. Stephen hadn’t been able to get it out of his head for weeks afterwards.

“Okay…Stephen.” The two men smiled. “You’re looking good.”

“So are you.”

Virgil chuckled. “I meant since the last time I saw you, but thank you.”

“Oh!” Stephen blushed and then, scratching the back of his neck, chuckled. “How embarrassing.

Stephen Furnier was just as Virgil remembered him. Attractive, trim, and neatly attired, with that full head of blond hair he wanted to run his fingers through. Virgil was a sucker for blonds. Not wanting to get distracted and keen to put the other man at ease, Virgil asked, “So, what brings you to the wilds of Sydney?”

“Ah. I’m in Sydney for work. I plan to be here roughly a year.”

“There are certainly enough spiders here to keep you busy.”

The line moved, and the two men moved forward.

“There are!”

Virgil chuckled. “Deadly and otherwise.”

“Actually, Australia has more non-lethal spiders than people think.”

They moved forward with the line.

“Oh. It probably doesn’t help that we only hear about the deadly ones.”

Stephen chuckled. “No.”

“Are you looking for any spiders in particular?”

“Not this time. I’m doing work for the Australian government. They’ve asked a group of arachnologists and herpetologists to study the effect of climate change on the ecosystems of spiders, lizards and snakes.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“It is!”

“Will you be working in Sydney?”

“Not the entire time. We’ll be going around the country. We’re trekking into Western Australia for a month in a couple of weeks.”

“What can I get for you two?”

Stephen and Virgil looked in surprise at the barista. They hadn’t noticed that the line had progressed so far. They looked at each other.

Virgil tilted his head and held out his hand. “What do you say, doc? My treat.”

Stephen raised his hands in protest. “No, no. You saved my life. It’s my treat.”

“But you saved my life capturing the creepy spider.”

“Creeping banana spider.”

“Guys.”

The two men looked in the direction of the voice. The barista stood with their eyebrows raised.

“Lumberjack, let the doc buy you coffee; you can buy him dinner, but let’s keep the line moving, okay?”

The two men blushed. “Um, sure.” “Yes, okay.”

“What’ll you have, Lumberjack?”

“I prefer Logistical Tree Feller.”

“Yeah, but it’s too wordy.”

Virgil shrugged. “Okay. Lumberjack it is. I’ll have a Long Black, please.”

“Okay.” The barista typed his order into the computer. They looked at Stephen. “And you, big spender?”

“Yes, um… may I please have a flat white?”

“Right-o.” The barista rang up their order.

Stephen touched his thumb to the pay pad, causing a soft beep, indicating that he had paid.

“We’ll call when your order is ready.”

Stephen stopped them. “Wait. Don’t you need our names?”

The barista cocked their head. “Do ya think there are more than one Doc and Lumberjack in here?”

Stephen frowned. “Umm…”

Virgil chuckled. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out…doc.”

Stephen blushed and chuckled. “Oh, yes. Of course.”

They moved away from the counter and stood together. Virgil was enjoying talking to Stephen and wished to continue their conversation. He hoped Stephen felt the same.

“Shall we find a table? We can keep talking…unless you have to go….”

“No!” Stephen blushed again. He glanced at Virgil from beneath his eyelashes. “No, my afternoon is free…and I want to continue our conversation.” He smiled when Virgil’s face lit up at his reply.

“Okay.”

They found a table near a window and sat.

“I’ve been terribly rude. Virgil, I neglected to ask what you were doing in Sydney.”

“That’s okay, doc-”

“Stephen, please, Virgil.”

Virgil nodded. “That’s okay, Stephen…I have a few days of R&R. I’m taking in a couple of museum exhibits, and I managed to get tickets for tomorrow to see Ming Ha at the Opera House.”

“Ming Ha? I’m not familiar with them.”

“She’s a classical pianist.”

“Oh. Classical music isn’t really my thing.” Stephen hesitated, wondering if he had said the wrong thing. He cleared his throat and spoke quickly. “Do you like classical music?”

“I do! I enjoy playing it on the piano, but I prefer jazz.”

Stephen’s face lit up. “I like jazz too!”

The men smiled at each other.

“Doc and Lumberjack!”

“I’ll get it.” Stephen rose and went to collect their coffees.

Virgil looked out the window, watching passersby until his companion returned with the nectar of life coffee. An idea occurred to him, and he tapped a message into his phone. A moment later, his phone tinged. Reading the reply, he smiled and looked up in time to see Stephen returning with their coffees.

“A tall black for the tall black-haired gentleman and a flat white for the spider guy.” Stephen grinned at Virgil while he set the cups on the table and retook his seat. “What are you grinning at?”

“I’m not grinning.”

“Virgil, you look like a cat who’s eaten a canary. What is it?”

“The coffee is called a long black, not tall black.”

“Oh.” The blond blushed. “Australian coffee rituals are very confusing.”

“They are if you aren’t familiar with them. You did okay ordering your coffee. Unless you didn’t actually want a flat white.”

Stephen sipped his coffee. “Mmm, this is exactly what I wanted.”

“Now you’re prepared for next time.”

“And I’ll try to remember it’s long black, not tall.” He sipped his coffee again and noticed Virgil grinning at him. “What? You’re grinning again…do I have foam on my lip?” He swiped his hand across his lips.

“No, you’re fine.” Virgil paused, staring at Stephen’s lips. “Um….” He shook himself. “I checked on Ms Ha’s program, and she’s performing works by Jean-Michel Blais.”

“I’m not familiar with him.”

“He’s a modern Canadian composer. I think he’s still alive. Philip Glass was one of his influences, and some of his works have a jazzy feel.”

Stephen made a face. “Jazzy?”

Virgil laughed. “Oh no, don’t make that face. Okay, jazzy is a bad description. But his work is interesting, and Ms Ha is a talented pianist.”

“You don’t have to sell me on your evening plans, Virgil.”

“Yeah, about that.”

Stephen looked expectantly at him.

“I was wondering if you might like to come with me tomorrow night.”

“To see Ms Ha perform?”

“Yes, I have an extra ticket…” Virgil briefly wondered if he had misread Stephen’s interest. “Unless you have other plans, or there’s someone you’re seeing, then….”

“No.”

“No?” Virgil wilted slightly in disappointment.

Stephen’s eyes widened at his companion’s obvious disappointment. “No, that’s not what I meant. No, I don’t have plans…and there isn’t anyone at the moment….”

The two men looked at each other; neither had misread anything.

Stephen smiled shyly. “I’d love to join you.”

Virgil smiled. “Excellent.” He sipped his nectar of life coffee. It was very good. “So, Stephen, what are your plans for this afternoon?”

“I haven’t any.”

A black eyebrow rose at this information. “There’s an exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art I’ve been dying to see, and it’s leaving after this week. Would you like to spend the afternoon with me?”

“I’d like that very much, Virgil.”

They grinned at each other and sipped their coffees.

-fin-

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thebirdfantasy · 2 days ago

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OOOOO YEEEEEEEEEEEESSSS

Meet Cute

I'm in the final stages of an international move, but I didn't want to miss ThunderPride Month. I'm reposting the first chapter of my first foray into ThunderPride writing, Meet Cute.

It started as a simple one-shot and then grew into eleven chapters. I have been working on an epilogue, which might become a two-part epilogue (if Stephen remains cooperative).

I love the rare!pairing of Virgil Tracy & Stephen Furnier. I hope you do too.

Chapter One

“Virgil?”

The voice behind him in the Sydney coffee shop caught Virgil Tracy’s ear. He turned towards a familiar person.

“Dr Furnier?”

Stephen Furnier smiled. “Hello, Virgil.”

“Hello, Dr Furnier.” Virgil smiled in return.

The men shook hands.

“Okay…Stephen.” The two men smiled. “You’re looking good.”

“So are you.”

Virgil chuckled. “I meant since the last time I saw you, but thank you.”

“Oh!” Stephen blushed and then, scratching the back of his neck, chuckled. “How embarrassing.

“Ah. I’m in Sydney for work. I plan to be here roughly a year.”

“There are certainly enough spiders here to keep you busy.”

The line moved, and the two men moved forward.

“There are!”

Virgil chuckled. “Deadly and otherwise.”

“Actually, Australia has more non-lethal spiders than people think.”

They moved forward with the line.

“Oh. It probably doesn’t help that we only hear about the deadly ones.”

Stephen chuckled. “No.”

“Are you looking for any spiders in particular?”

“That sounds interesting.”

“It is!”

“Will you be working in Sydney?”

“Not the entire time. We’ll be going around the country. We’re trekking into Western Australia for a month in a couple of weeks.”

“What can I get for you two?”

Stephen and Virgil looked in surprise at the barista. They hadn’t noticed that the line had progressed so far. They looked at each other.

Virgil tilted his head and held out his hand. “What do you say, doc? My treat.”

Stephen raised his hands in protest. “No, no. You saved my life. It’s my treat.”

“But you saved my life capturing the creepy spider.”

“Creeping banana spider.”

“Guys.”

The two men looked in the direction of the voice. The barista stood with their eyebrows raised.

“Lumberjack, let the doc buy you coffee; you can buy him dinner, but let’s keep the line moving, okay?”

The two men blushed. “Um, sure.” “Yes, okay.”

“What’ll you have, Lumberjack?”

“I prefer Logistical Tree Feller.”

“Yeah, but it’s too wordy.”

Virgil shrugged. “Okay. Lumberjack it is. I’ll have a Long Black, please.”

“Okay.” The barista typed his order into the computer. They looked at Stephen. “And you, big spender?”

“Yes, um… may I please have a flat white?”

“Right-o.” The barista rang up their order.

Stephen touched his thumb to the pay pad, causing a soft beep, indicating that he had paid.

“We’ll call when your order is ready.”

Stephen stopped them. “Wait. Don’t you need our names?”

The barista cocked their head. “Do ya think there are more than one Doc and Lumberjack in here?”

Stephen frowned. “Umm…”

Virgil chuckled. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out…doc.”

Stephen blushed and chuckled. “Oh, yes. Of course.”

They moved away from the counter and stood together. Virgil was enjoying talking to Stephen and wished to continue their conversation. He hoped Stephen felt the same.

“Shall we find a table? We can keep talking…unless you have to go….”

“Okay.”

They found a table near a window and sat.

“I’ve been terribly rude. Virgil, I neglected to ask what you were doing in Sydney.”

“That’s okay, doc-”

“Stephen, please, Virgil.”

Virgil nodded. “That’s okay, Stephen…I have a few days of R&R. I’m taking in a couple of museum exhibits, and I managed to get tickets for tomorrow to see Ming Ha at the Opera House.”

“Ming Ha? I’m not familiar with them.”

“She’s a classical pianist.”

“Oh. Classical music isn’t really my thing.” Stephen hesitated, wondering if he had said the wrong thing. He cleared his throat and spoke quickly. “Do you like classical music?”

“I do! I enjoy playing it on the piano, but I prefer jazz.”

Stephen’s face lit up. “I like jazz too!”

The men smiled at each other.

“Doc and Lumberjack!”

“I’ll get it.” Stephen rose and went to collect their coffees.

“I’m not grinning.”

“Virgil, you look like a cat who’s eaten a canary. What is it?”

“The coffee is called a long black, not tall black.”

“Oh.” The blond blushed. “Australian coffee rituals are very confusing.”

“They are if you aren’t familiar with them. You did okay ordering your coffee. Unless you didn’t actually want a flat white.”

Stephen sipped his coffee. “Mmm, this is exactly what I wanted.”

“Now you’re prepared for next time.”

“No, you’re fine.” Virgil paused, staring at Stephen’s lips. “Um….” He shook himself. “I checked on Ms Ha’s program, and she’s performing works by Jean-Michel Blais.”

“I’m not familiar with him.”

“He’s a modern Canadian composer. I think he’s still alive. Philip Glass was one of his influences, and some of his works have a jazzy feel.”

Stephen made a face. “Jazzy?”

Virgil laughed. “Oh no, don’t make that face. Okay, jazzy is a bad description. But his work is interesting, and Ms Ha is a talented pianist.”

“You don’t have to sell me on your evening plans, Virgil.”

“Yeah, about that.”

Stephen looked expectantly at him.

“I was wondering if you might like to come with me tomorrow night.”

“To see Ms Ha perform?”

“Yes, I have an extra ticket…” Virgil briefly wondered if he had misread Stephen’s interest. “Unless you have other plans, or there’s someone you’re seeing, then….”

“No.”

“No?” Virgil wilted slightly in disappointment.

Stephen’s eyes widened at his companion’s obvious disappointment. “No, that’s not what I meant. No, I don’t have plans…and there isn’t anyone at the moment….”

The two men looked at each other; neither had misread anything.

Stephen smiled shyly. “I’d love to join you.”

Virgil smiled. “Excellent.” He sipped his nectar of life coffee. It was very good. “So, Stephen, what are your plans for this afternoon?”

“I haven’t any.”

“I’d like that very much, Virgil.”

They grinned at each other and sipped their coffees.

-fin-

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thebirdfantasy · 2 days ago

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THIS IS AWESOME!!

Rest In Peace Gordon ‘Tiny’ Tracy, who decided to take an unscheduled and unnoticed crash dive in the middle of London this afternoon.

He had a great 2 weeks.. getting rescued from a charity shop bag, then going to Slough. He will be missed 😔

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thebirdfantasy · 2 days ago

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“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.”

— Pablo Neruda

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thebirdfantasy · 2 days ago

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would be cool if it was for doing covert rescue operations on war grounds

Not sure if anyone knows about this existence but it seems there was an alternate version to the Thunderbirds figurines that has them in black and grey uniforms? and according to the boxes, it says "Covert Operations"

I wonder what they would've done if this made it into the show?

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thebirdfantasy · 2 days ago

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AHHH THIS WAS INTENSE

Hide and Seek

For @Febuwhump day 18: Living Weapon

“You’ve got point, Gordon.”

“F.A.B.”

Gordon glanced at his brothers. The looks on their faces said they all felt the same as him: angry, determined, and afraid to get their hopes up.

“John, keep scanning for any signals. Communications, life-signs, anything, got it?”

“They’ve shielded the place,” John retorted, the bite of impatience giving away how many times he’d said that since they learnt this compound existed. Gordon would usually have a quip on hand to respond, but the weight of leadership wasn’t one he took lightly. He only arched an eyebrow and John sighed, nodding.

“Virgil, you’re covering my back. Al, you’re watching John’s. Whatever happens, we stay together. Understood?”

“F.A.B.”

It was weird. Gordon didn’t like the three of them looking at him like that. But he would take any discomfort if it meant finding their eldest brother. Their dad was right by putting him in charge. This wasn’t the first raid Gordon had taken point on, although he doubted anyone other than his father knew that.

He turned back to the small side-door John had found as an entry point, and pulled his weapon from the holster on his thigh. It might only have the power to stun, but giving his enemy a headache would have to do for now. Revenge wasn’t the mission here.

Rescuing Scott was.

Gordon entered first, snapping on his flashlight, checking there was nothing lying in wait for them, and gesturing for the others to follow. Once all four were inside, the silence was even more obvious than before. Gordon glanced at John, who was staring at a device in his hand. But his brother shook his head: all quiet.

He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. While it hopefully meant they weren’t about to walk in on an army lying in wait, Gordon wasn’t sure if they could handle another false lead.

For three months they’d been chasing their tails since Scott had disappeared on a rescue. They knew the Hood was behind it, but knowing didn’t help them. For weeks, they found no trace of their brother and it was mainly Virgil’s insistence that he’d know if Scott had been killed that stopped the rest of them giving in to their deepest fears.

Then John had got something. It was so far off the radar that Gordon had initially been surprised John had found it, before remembering this was John. More importantly, it was a grieving and furious John, and nothing could be hidden from him.

Gordon had no idea what parts of the dark web and forbidden sources John had tapped before he’d found evidence that Scott was alive. The tiniest snapshot from a camera in the back of beyond, but it had given them a lead, something to go on.

They hadn’t been subtle: rushing to the location in Thunderbird Two, searching every inch of the surrounding area. Gordon now realised they’d overplayed their hand. The Hood had realised they’d found something, and he’d spent the last two months baiting them. Images of Scott had been glimpsed at various places, but he’d always been gone by the time they got there. The Hood had been toying with them, letting them know their brother was alive. Injured, captive, and at one point definitely drugged, but he was alive – and out of their reach.

John hadn’t waited for the next clue to drop, though. Gordon didn’t know what evidence he’d been piecing together while the rest of them had been running in circles, but he'd found a pattern to the locations the Hood had dangled in front of them. This place hadn’t been identified by a conveniently placed bread-crumb, but by cunning on John’s behalf.

“Everyone still with me?” Gordon whispered into the darkness. He received three confirmations from behind and pressed on. It didn’t take long before he reached a junction and glanced at his team.

“Which way?”

“Left,” Virgil said.

“Right,” Alan commented.

Gordon looked at John.

“Left?” John hedged.

“Left’s have it.”

Without another word, Gordon plunged deeper into the maze of corridors. Whatever this place had once been, it had been deserted long ago. The was an air of abandonment about it that made Gordon shiver, although that could’ve also been the less-than-tropical-island temperatures. In any other situation, Gordon would’ve been cracking jokes just to cut through the oppressiveness.

“Wait,” John suddenly hissed. Gordon stopped so suddenly that Virgil walked into him.

“Thought you were watching my back?”

“Didn’t think you meant literally,” Virgil grumbled.

They didn’t take it any further, though, both turning to look at John. As they did so, he smacked the sensor into the palm of his hand, before giving it a shake and looking at it again.

“I thought I-,” He trailed off. “Bring that light closer, would you?”

Gordon obliged. He might be taking point, but only because he had the background of how to walk into an ambush without being, well, ambushed. John knew everything else.

John dropped to his knees, prising off the back of the sensor. Virgil dropped beside him, pulling out a mini set of tools from a jacket pocket that made Gordon and Alan exchange startled looks. Alan’s lips twitched but Gordon shook his head. They’d mock Virgil after, unless said mini tool kit saved their lives – and Scott’s - in which case, they’d be praising him.

Gordon watched, silently, as the two of them worked, Virgil seamlessly handing over what John needed. Eventually, he closed it back up, switched it on, and the loud beep made them all jump.

“What did you just do?”

“I got a flicker,” John said. “Like something was here but blocked. That got me thinking, and I was right.”

“About?” Alan said.

“There’s some kind of shielding device being used. That’s why there was no reading at all.”

“So, are we about to walk into an army?” Gordon’s tone was light, but the grip on his gun tightened.

John shook his head. “No. There’s only one life-signal.”

They all looked at each other. Gordon knew they were all thinking the same thing. Could they have, finally, found Scott?

“Which way?”

“Straight on, next left, first right, then straight,” John said promptly.

Gordon didn’t need telling again. He sat off, pace faster than before, but no one complained as they hurried to keep up with him. The compound no longer felt quite so much like a maze now that he had an actual heading and it wasn’t long before Gordon reached the last part of John’s instructions.

He slowed. All four of them paused. The corridor was leading to a darkened doorway. There were no other rooms off this stretch. Gordon glanced at John, who looked at his sensor and nodded.

“There’s someone in there,” he whispered.

Gordon snapped off his flashlight.

“We go fast, and we go quiet,” he instructed. “Spread out once we get through that door. “Alan, Virgil, go left. Virg, keep going until you reach the far wall; Alan, stay central. John, go right. I’ll cover the door.”

He just had to hope there were no other exits. They hadn’t had the chance to properly canvas the building. They’d been two steps behind for the last few months and none of them had wanted to delay with proper planning if they had a chance of catching up for once. Gordon knew in any other situation, he’d be furious with himself for being so lax, but this was his brother on the line. He figured that excused them from being a little rash on this occasion.

“What if he’s in there?” Alan whispered.

Gordon looked at him. He wasn’t sure which ‘he’ Alan meant: Scott or the Hood?

“We end this,” Virgil said, “whoever is waiting for us.”

It wasn’t uncommon to hear a protective note in Virgil’s voice, but it was unusual to hear him sound so fierce about it. It made Gordon nod in agreement.

“Let’s go,” he ordered.

He took the lead again. He stepped into the room, holding up his hand for the others to wait. It was dark, but he relaxed his gaze, searching the shadows for any sort of movement. Although the entire complex was in darkness, he’d be obvious standing in the doorway. There was a scuff of feet on the far side of the room, but no one tried to shoot him.

He stepped aside, allowing his brothers in. Gordon was proud of the way they instantly fanned out, following his instructions. Only the light from John’s sensor gave any illumination. Gordon kept a close eye on it, aware that it made his brother a target.

Gordon moved further in, although made sure he was still covering the door. No one was getting past on his watch. Not through this exit, anyway. Once he’d gone a few steps, he snapped on his flashlight without warning, sending the beam straight across to where he’d heard the shuffle of feet.

A figure darted from the light, moving back into the darkness.

“Scott!”

Virgil’s cry meant stealth didn’t matter anymore. Gordon’s heart leapt, his breath catching in his chest before he shoved the emotions away. They still had to get Scott out of here before they could celebrate.

Hurried footsteps disappeared into the darkness and John swore.

“There’s another exit,” he cried, “he’s running!”

“Scott, stop! It’s us! We’ve come to take you home.”

Virgil set off in hot pursuit, and Gordon wasn’t the only one to give chase. He could hear John panting behind him as they dashed across the room and through another door on the far side. The corridor split, and Scott’s echoing footsteps seemed to come from all directions at once. Gordon glanced at John.

“Still just him,” John said.

“Why’s he running?” Alan asked, sounding hurt. Virgil’s hand squeezed his shoulder but although Gordon knew they were thinking the same thing, Virgil couldn’t find the words.

“We don’t know what the Hood has done to him,” Gordon said softly. “He may not even realise it’s us.”

“But don’t worry.” Virgil’s voice hadn’t lost its fierceness. “We’re bringing him home.”

Gordon hadn’t heard him sound like that for months. Seeing Scott, in the flesh, had done something to Virgil, however fleeting that glance might’ve been.

“He’s stopped moving,” John said, eyes still fixed on the scanner. “He’s not far from us.”

Gordon frowned. Scott had the same training as him. If he planned to run, he’d get as far away as possible, taking every twist and turn to lose whoever was pursuing him. Unless...

“He’s hurt,” Gordon said softly. “He can’t keep going.”

They all shared a look in the darkness. They’d all seen the snippets the Hood had teased them with. They’d seen the blood and bruises, the glazed look in Scott’s eye revealing some sort of drug. It was a miracle Scott was still standing, let alone running, if that evidence was anything to go by.

“John, tell us where he is.”

John obliged. Gordon ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“We go fast, and we go silent,” he said. “No lights, no noise. Just hope there’s not another way out of that room. If he’s hurt, he can’t keep this up. We need to bring him do-,” he caught himself. “Bring him home before he hurts himself further.”

Virgil gave him a sharp look. “You’re planning something,” he said, tone accusing.

Gordon shifted his grip on his weapon.

“No!” Alan gasped, “you can’t.”

“I don’t want to,” Gordon said vehemently. “But it’s set to stun. I’d rather knock him out and end this than risk him hurting himself. If he doesn’t realise it’s us, we can’t let him fight us.”

Even injured, Scott would put up a heck of a fight.

“But-,”

“Think of what it would do to him if he gave you a black eye,” John interrupted Alan. Gordon gave him a nod of gratitude. If anyone was going to have his back on this course of action, it would be John.

“He’s still there?”

John nodded. He gave them clear directions to the area where Scott was sheltering.

“Remember,” Gordon said, “not a sound.”

He was proud of them as they stole forward. They all kept a hand on one another, making sure no one got lost in the dark. When John tapped him on the shoulder, Gordon stopped. They were in front of a doorway and at Gordon’s signal, they fanned out around it. Providing there wasn’t another exit again, Scott wasn’t getting out.

He stepped forward. Looked at John. Waited for the nod. Did it again. Repeated the process. In that manner, they advanced on silent feet into the room, checking after every step that Scott hadn’t bolted again.

Sharp, ragged breaths came from the darkness. Gordon winced. No wonder Scott couldn’t run: that sounded like a broken rib at least. He was clearly trying to be quiet, but was in no state to actually do so.

“Now!” Gordon cried. All four of them switched on their flashlights, pointing them in the same direction, pinning the man sheltering on the far side of the room in their glare.

“Scott.” It came out as a breath more than a word. They’d actually found him.

But as the light rested on the man, Gordon’s knuckles went white around both the gun and the flashlight. He fought to keep his breathing under control.

Scott was shying away from the light, an involuntary cry escaping him as if it was too bright. More than one beam immediately angled away. But there was still enough to be able to see him by.

He was ghostly pale, only making the two black eyes look even more prominent. His upper body was bare, revealing a scattering of bruises: some fresh, some almost healed. He looked as if he’d been beaten repeatedly on a regular basis. Even in this dim light, Gordon could see he’d lost a lot of weight; his cheeks hollow and sunken, his hip bones sharp against the top of torn and stained pants.

“Scotty.” Virgil stepped forward, his free hand outstretched, voice calm as if he was addressing a startled animal. “It’s okay. We’re here, big brother. It’s us. We’ve come to take you home.”

“Get away!” Scott’s voice was hoarse, cracking on that one cry.

Gordon looked quickly at Alan. While his little brother looked devastated, nothing in his expression gave away that he understood why Scott sounded like that. But Gordon did. Too long alternating between not speaking at all and screaming.

“It’s your brothers,” Alan started.

“I know! That’s why you have to get out. Go. Now! Get out of here.”

“Scott-,” Alan sounded heartbroken. “What’s he done to you?”

But Gordon exchanged looks with Virgil. While Scott’s words didn’t sound like his own, his tone was far too familiar. Stubborn protectiveness, regardless of the cost.

Both Gordon and Virgil redirected their lights onto Scott, who flinched back. But it was too late. They’d all seen the thick strap wrapped around Scott’s waist, the LED lights flashing rhythmically. Gordon let his beam travel, eyes narrowing as he took in the wires disappearing behind Scott’s back.

Scott wasn’t trying to get away from them. He was trying to get them away from him. Away from the bomb locked around his body. The Hood had turned him into a living weapon.

John cursed while Virgil sucked in a sharp in-take of breath.

“He heard you coming,” Scott said in his broken voice. “I fought him. He wasn’t set up to move me again, he didn’t have another safe house ready. He said he’d make sure that not only would it be impossible to rescue me, but that I wouldn’t want you to.”

Gordon, to his surprise, felt his nerves settle. All of his WASP training flooded back. While he hadn’t seen that much active duty thanks to his accident and the subsequent setting up of International Rescue, he’d done the training.

He shoved his gun back in its holster. “Let me see.”

Scott drew back, but there was nowhere for him to go as Gordon stalked forward. His brother gave a sharp intake of breath as Gordon brushed a featherlight touch over his ribs. At least one was definitely broken.

But then he turned his brother gently. The device had been secured at the base of Scott’s back, locked there by thin yet strong chains and secured with a digital lock. Impossible for Scott to get off himself without being able to see what he was doing.

“Don’t touch it,” John was suddenly at his side. His own fingers grazed the device and he gave a low whistle. “I’ve seen the schematics for this before. Even if we put in the correct code to get it off him, it will still trigger the countdown.”

He looked meaningfully at Gordon, who understood. Knowing the Hood, the countdown would be mere seconds. They’d never be able to get it off Scott and get clear, not without losing at least him and whoever released him.

“You have to go,” Scott begged them.

“Not a chance.” Virgil moved forward, hands cradling Scott’s neck gently, his gaze running over his brother before he drew him into a gentle hug, ignoring the incendiary device between them. “Not without you.”

“You can’t,” Scott said.

“Have you met us?” Gordon scoffed. “We do the impossible every day.”

He couldn’t stop looking at his big brother though, drinking in the sight of him, alive. Hurt and weak, yes, still currently at risk of being killed any second, but right now: alive.

“Virg?” John tilted his head, gesturing for Virgil to step away. He did, and the two of them bent their heads together, whispering furiously. Gordon looked at Scott, and saw him watching their brothers with a soft expression.

“We’ve missed you,” Gordon said quietly, “like you wouldn’t believe. We never gave up-,”

“I know,” Scott said. He gave a weak smile. “I know what he was doing to you guys.”

Gordon looked away. Scott had been this maniac’s prisoner, his body paying the price of their inability to find him. But the Hood hadn’t just been torturing Scott. Every glimpse, every time they didn’t get their quick enough, had been like a hot knife twisting in each of them.

“But you were driving him mad.” Scott broke off, coughing, biting back a cry as it clearly jostled his ribs. “You were getting closer each time,” he wheezed. “He knew he was running out of time.”

“Easy, big brother,” Gordon put a gentle hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Just focusing on breathing. We’ll discuss how awesome I am at being annoying that I even managed to wind up that creep once we’re out of here.”

As if his words were a signal, Virgil and John came back. Virgil took a deep breath.

“We’ve got a plan.”

“Good!” Alan moved forward. “What is it?”

John shook his head.

“You trust us, right?” He wasn’t talking to Alan, but Scott. “Because we can either stand around telling you the plan-,”

“- or you can do it,” Scott said. Gordon could tell how hard his brother was fighting to remain upright and he subtly shifted his body until he could slip his shoulder under Scott’s, supporting him.

John nodded.

“Do it,” Scott said.

“F.A.B.”

Virgil’s mini tool kit came out and John once again whacked the back off the sensor. This time, he linked it up to his watch, doing who-knew-what for a few moments. Alan shifted impatiently, but Gordon was more concerned that he seemed to be taking more of Scott’s weight with each passing moment.

“Okay,” John suddenly said. “Let’s move.”

Virgil slipped into position the other side of Scott.

“I can walk,” Scott muttered. But as he took a step forward, his left leg buckled and he had to grab on to Virgil to stop from falling.

They ignored him and continued to take his weight as John motioned for Alan to go ahead and lead the way out.

“I have to stay close,” he explained, walking so close behind them that he kept catching the back of Gordon’s heels. “He’d blocked the signal before, but he’d only blocked our signal. He’d worked out what frequency we were on. I’ve rewired the sensor into a transmitter. Now I’m the one shielding, on every signal.”

“He can’t remotely active the bomb,” Gordon guessed. He didn’t see John’s nod to know it happened. “But how does that help us get it off?”

“Let’s get out of here first,” Virgil muttered.

It took what felt like an age before Gordon was blinking in the daylight. Scott didn’t react to the brightness this time and when Gordon looked at him, he realised it was because his brother was barely conscious. His head was hanging, breathing coming in sharp gasps that were eliciting concerned looks from Virgil.

“Al?” Gordon gestured and Alan took his place supporting their brother.

Gordon straightened up with a groan, hands in the small of his back. He twisted casually, but his gaze was scanning the perimeter, looking for any movement, anything different from before. He didn’t doubt the Hood was close by – he'd have to be if he wanted to either activate the bomb himself or watch the fallout. But nothing caught his attention and he couldn’t exactly leave his brothers exposed while he did a more in-depth sweep. They didn’t have the time.

“Now what?” he asked, slipping his gun back from its holster, gaze still searching.

“Back to Two,” Virgil said.

Gordon spared him a frown and received a quirked eyebrow in response. Shrugging, Gordon led the way. They hadn’t left Virgil’s ‘bird far away: she offered the best cover when they’d approached. That hadn’t stopped Virgil fretting about leaving her until John had reassured him that Brains was monitoring security from the island and anyone not them would be in for a surprise.

None of them spoke as they moved. Gordon was on the constant lookout for any movement, while Virgil and Alan were focused on keeping Scott moving. Gordon couldn’t tell if Scott was helping at all now. John, meanwhile, was dogging their footsteps, making sure his transmitter kept Scott covered no matter what.

Once in the shadow of the giant Thunderbird, Gordon breathed a little easier. He’d never admit it to Virgil, but there was something just safe about Two. Whether it was her size or the sheer amount of equipment she carried but it did feel like she could protect them from anything.

Virgil de-activated security, leaving Alan sagging under Scott’s weight. John quickly propped him up again and Gordon saw their brother look up blearily. Gordon winced. Scott looked even worse in the light of day than he had in that complex.

“What happens next?” Gordon asked. Two might offer safety, but he didn’t like the idea of just standing here. “We’re not-?” He tilted his head towards Thunderbird Two. Surely they weren’t about to just carry a bomb into the heart of Two?

“Not as such,” John said.

Two’s engines rumbled. Gordon saw the grass nearby ripple as some sort of pulse radiated out. John sighed in relief, his death grip on his transmitter relaxing.

“Two will block the signal,” he said. “Alan, Gordon, get on board.”

Alan hurried in, but Gordon stopped. “What’s the plan?”

There was something in his tone that made John realised he wanted an answer this time. His brother sighed as he shifted Scott.

“Virgil will take off. We’ll lower the platform, and I’ll get Scott on it. Virg will gain a little altitude. I’ll get this damn thing off him, and drop it. Gravity will take it further than any of us can throw it, while Virgil draws us in and flies. Two will shield us against any of the blast that makes it that high.”

It was simple in its effectiveness. Gordon liked it. Apart from one thing.

“I’ll take him.”

“What?”

“I’ll take Scott,” he said. “You might be the numbers guy, John, but I’m better at working under pressure than you. At least out in the field. We can’t risk you choking.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“John, please. I trained for this.”

“You trained to unchain a bomb from your brother while hanging underneath a Thunderbird?” John’s tone was sardonic to say the least. Gordon would’ve shoved him if he wasn’t supporting Scott.

“You got him this far, big brother. Let me finish it.”

He saw the instant John gave in before his brother nodded. Something flickered in his eyes, something akin to relief. He had been worrying, despite what he was telling Gordon.

“Guys?” Virgil’s voice came out through the comms. John gave him a swift nod and hurried inside. Two sealed and Gordon dragged Scott a short distance away, figuring rescuing his brother would lose its shine if he let him be roasted by Two’s engines.

Virgil didn’t go far before dropping the platform.

“C’mon, Scotty,” Gordon told his semi-conscious brother. “Time to go home.”

Dragging one of Scott’s arms over his shoulder, he half-carried, half-supported Scott. He shouldn’t have been able to do it, but it just showed how much weight his brother had lost during three months of captivity.

“Grandma’s going to have a field day,” he said. “You’ll be getting so much pie even you’ll be sick of it.”

Scott trembled in his grip but Gordon just told himself it was a laugh that hadn’t burst free.

He shut the safety rail behind them and quickly secured Scott in one of the harnesses.

“Take us up, big guy,” he said into his watch. Two rumbled in response and Virgil started gaining altitude. The further the bomb had to fall, the more chance they had of escaping its blast radius.

Once he’d got used to the swinging platform, Gordon eased behind Scott, staring at the digital lock.

“Don’t suppose you know the code, do you?”

His hand was already on his watch, preparing to connect through to John. Maybe his brother did have slightly more experience at cracking digital locks than he did. But before he made the connection, Scott whispered something.

Gordon stared at him.

“Are you kidding me?”

Scott shook his head.

Gordon took a deep breath.

“Are you ready, Virgil?”

“F.A.B. On your count.”

“Three. Two.” Gordon stared at the lock. Flexed his fingers, then put them in position. “One.”

He tapped in the code quickly, unable to believe the Hood’s audacity as the lock turned green. At the same time, a shrill beep came from the device and a bright red ‘20’ showed up on the small screen, instantly dropping to 19. 19 seconds to get this thing off his brother and away from them.

The chain had been pulled tight and it took a precious few seconds to unhook it from the lock. Once that was free, Gordon set about undoing the straps that were holding the bomb in place. There seemed to be hundreds of the things! All the while, the timer was counting down...

13.

12.

11.

10.

The bomb fell free. It clattered against the platform with a clang that made Gordon wince, but thankfully, nothing exploded.

He bent to pick it up. But Scott got there first. With more force than Gordon thought his brother had in him, Scott kicked the bomb. For a wild second, Gordon thought it would get stuck in the railing, but it rolled neatly underneath, falling back to earth.

“Go, Virg, go!” He screamed into his comms.

Two’s engines roared as Virgil gave her full thrust. Gordon grabbed onto the platform, hanging on, belatedly realising he hadn’t given himself a harness. But even as Thunderbird Two launched forward with as much speed as she could handle, the platform was being drawn up, up, away from the falling bomb...

The platform rocked violently as far below them, a fire ball shot into the air. But even as the heat washed over them, the platform entered Two and the doors closed beneath them. The ship shuddered a little as it outstripped the blast.

Gordon fell back on the platform. For a moment, all he could do was pant, a hysterical laugh building in him. The Hood had overplayed his hand: so confident that Scott wouldn’t risk them unchaining the bomb that he’d made the code obvious: it was Scott’s birthday.

But he’d underestimated them.

They’d done it.

Three months of torment and anguish. Three months of not knowing.

And now they had Scott back!

Rolling onto his side, Gordon realised his big brother had finally surrendered and lost consciousness. Gently, Gordon unclasped the harness and cradled Scott in his arms as he lowered him to the ground.

“We’ve got you, big brother,” he murmured. “And you’re coming home.”

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