Tumgik
#tracy family
lenfantdeverone · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
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
124 notes · View notes
darkestwolfx · 12 days
Text
TAG Transcripts | Masterpost
So, I'm making a start on organising all of my previous content and I'm starting with Transcripts!
And the reason I'm starting with these is because when I came back and was able to look at messages etc (as opposed to the late night reading I made fanfics) there were a lot asking about these with quite a few questions - so firstly, Q & A;
Where can the transcripts be found? They can now be found on this masterpost, but also back on my 2016 post!
Are all the episodes available? Series 1 is complete, Series 2 is mostly complete, Series 3 is unstarted
Will I finish them? Yes, if there is this level of interest of course I will, but episodes can take a while to transcribe so it may not be a quick process!
Do I make a profit? No. This is something I started doing as a fan, for fans as someone who's previously found issues with subtitles not appearing or being incorrect.
Can I download a copy? Yes, from my mediafire links in word or PDF format
Why can't the documents be edited, copy & pasted? The documents are password protected, yes, because a lot of work goes into them and if they're going to be re-distributed I would appreciate the credit or an update of where they're being shared, so no they cannot be directly copied and pasted
Feel free to reblog and share though, Thunderfam, as these were made for you to enjoy!
Tumblr media
And before there are questions as to where the link can be found on this masterpost, let's put that here!
Above is the link for the TAG transcripts (I have TOS completed but will post this separately).
What can be found here at the moment:
Series 1
in Word & PDF format
25 files per folder
All episodes completed - Ring of Fire is in one combined set
Series 2
in Word & PDF format
Available episodes - 17; Earthbreaker (1) City Under the Sea (4) Colony (5) Up from the Depths I (6) - will be added shortly (amending pieces) Up from the Depths II (7) Volcano (14) Power Play (15) Bolt from the Blue (16) Attack of the Reptiles (17) Grandma Tourismo (18) Clean Sweap (19) The Man from TB5 (20) Home on the Ranch (21) Long Haul (22) Rigged for Disaster (23) Inferno (24) Hyerspeed (25) Brains vs Brawn (26)
I will aim to finish the episodes outstanding here and then start on Series 3, but this will be amongst all my other work but I will do my best to get there!
Okay, I think this is the part of the post where you can cheer for joy :)
Tumblr media
32 notes · View notes
loopstagirl · 11 days
Text
Slippery Slope, Ch 1
Given I'm on a roll at the moment, thought it was time to start posting a new story.
Scott shivered, zipping his coat further up as he stepped out of the car. The frigid temperatures slammed into him, but he tried to control his reaction.
"Friggin' hell!" Gordon didn't have the same restraint.
"What do you expect?" John joined them. "You've been in a heated car for an hour."
Gordon grumbled something under his breath, zipping his own coat, hands in his pockets, as he jumped on the spot.
John rolled his eyes, although it was barely visible with his hat tugged down and scarf pulled up. He seemed to take the cold weather in his stride. Scott wished he'd followed suit: he couldn't feel his ears.
"John?"
John looked over, and Scott nodded towards the driver. John headed over, speaking rapid French as he leant in at the window. Hiding a smirk, Scott turned to the trunk. John wanted to practice his languages, but it also meant Scott didn't have to stumble his way through the conversation.
Virgil fell into step with him. Scott offered a grateful smile, glad someone was giving him a hand. Gordon was still cursing and jumping.
He popped the lid, stepping back as Virgil dived in first.
But his brother didn't go for the top bag. Instead, he grabbed the handle of his own – from the bottom of the pile – and proceeded to try to drag it out, huffing and swearing as he did so. Scott was glad only the cab driver was around to hear them, given both Virgil and Gordon's language since arriving.
Virgil finally pulled his bag free, dropping it to the ground and looking at Scott.
"Could've helped," he panted.
Scott laughed. "Or you could've waited five seconds and helped me shift the ones on top."
Virgil stared at him. His hat was almost as low as John's, but Scott still saw the flush spreading across his cheeks.
More ->
19 notes · View notes
dontcallme-johnny · 4 months
Text
Y'now, that one song by wheatus.
Was originally thinking scott cuz the line in high strung where Brandon asks Scott whether he did anything crazy as a teenager and Scott replies with "uhhh" (real smooth there Scooter), but Alan is technically the only teenager of the gang, then there's Gordon... So yea, I can't stop thinking about this ;-;
21 notes · View notes
squiddokiddo · 4 months
Text
.⊹*𖦹 Squirt's first Christmas with the Tracys 𖦹*⊹.
🌲 • Learning about Tracy family traditions. It's been a very long time since anyone new has joined them at Christmas and they're all excited to show off.
🍂 • Being lifted up to put decorations on the tree. The family always get a massive tree to go in the lounge. Squirt tries their best not to drop any baubles.
🌲• Untangling Alan from the lights.
🍂 • Untangling Gordon from the lights.
🌲 • Untangling M.A.X from the lights.
🍂 • Untangling themself from the lights.
🌲 • John coming down from 5, seeing the chaos and immediately regretting his choice.
🍂 • Being told stories of past Christmases and sharing their own.
🌲 • The whole family helping make dinner and Grandma rapidly losing her patience with side dishes being picked at. The next hand she sees creeping towards a plate gets a good whack with a spoon.
🍂 • Spending time away from the island browsing various Christmas markets and visiting the Tracy family cabin. It's the first time that Squirt will have a summery Christmas so the family let them spend time indulging in the wintery side of the holidays.
🌲 • Supply runs and Christmas shopping.
Squirt: **picks out the world's ugliest Christmas jumper** Hey check this out!!
Gordon: **feeling the fabric** Omg yess!!!
Virgil: **lifts the jumper out of their hands and puts it back on the rack** No...
🍂 • Going out on forest walks as a family to collect pinecones and holly to make decorations with.
🌲 • Grandma teaching Squirt about foraging for mushrooms and identifying edible ones to go in her famous chicken pot pie.
𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹
Will probably come up with more but that's all I've got right now. (;^^)
15 notes · View notes
drileyf · 2 months
Text
Opposites Attract- Written in the Stars - Chapter 1 - WillowDragonCat - Thunderbirds [Archive of Our Own]
Happy TAG: Love and Thunderbirds month! Posting a link to the romance fic that defines John Tracy for me, @willow-salix Opposites Attract
I love that she gives us an adult, no fake drama, no tropes, respectful, deeply loving relationship between equals. And the bonus of Scott and Selene being best friends without the ridiculous tropes that men and women can't be friends because sex, jealousy, blah blah blah... THANK YOU!
I love them; I love Selene; I love the Tracy family she creates.
10 notes · View notes
yarol2075 · 29 days
Text
Rainbows, Rockets, and Did Someone Say Pie?
Chapter 17: Breaking
AO3
John was the one to make the call to the hotel penthouse suite where their family was staying. Conrad didn't trust himself, and besides that, Scott had made it as empathically clear as he could that he wanted Conrad with him. It had been the only thing that had cause his pain-killer hazed eyes to briefly return to their normal laser like focus when one of the doctors had suggest Conrad leave. John was surprised the woman didn't have third degree burns from that glare.
Scott wanted Conrad there, no discussion required, or allowed. It would have taken an act of god to pry Conrad away anyway, once Scott made his wishes clear.
“Scott's awake,” John started without preamble, aware his entire family were collectively holding its breath, “and fairly lucid, better than hoped for, and there's a eighty-five percent chance he'll keep his leg.”
He waited until the explosions of relieved sobs and frightened laughter died down before continuing.
“Scott can have a single visitor for ten minutes, with a half hour between visitors, butVirgilisn'tallowed,” John's stomach dropped as he rushed through that last part, glad he had chosen to call rather than deliver that news in person.
To his relief it was Gordon who got the question in the first:
“What? Why?”
“Because Scott indicated he didn't want to see him yet,” John explained, “he's...”
“Scott? Or Conrad?” Virgil interrupted with a snarl.
“Scott, Virgil,” John used his 'you will listen to me, and like with it' voice that he used with people who interfered with rescues or dithered about unimportant things like property values instead of people's lives, “Conrad hasn't said much of anything since Scott regained consciousness.”
Nothing much beyond 'I love you' and 'Don't leave me' on repeat.
Virgil deflated, big brown eyes confused. (Alan's glare unwittingly mimicking their injured oldest brother when he had made that decision.)
“Why?” echoing Gordon in a much more heartbroken tone.
“Virgil,” John answered as kindly as he could, now wishing he was there to wrap an arm around Virgil's shoulders, “you know why.”
8 notes · View notes
rawyld · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
From Thunderbirds 2004 movie. Here we see our first picture of Lucy Tracy with the boys before the avalanche accident which also killed Jeff Tracy's father as well. @myladykayo
16 notes · View notes
janetm74fics · 6 months
Text
Mistaken Identity
@whumptober Day 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”/Mistaken Identity 
This one refused to be written! But these lyrics helped.
Lyrics:
See, the thing about these days Is I really need - call up my mum Saw my father cry one time And I must admit, it really twisted me up And it hurts you, and it burns you Learnin' everything ain't what it seems That's the thing about these days I need something to sew me up by the seams again
Characters: Scott, OC, John, Tracy family
Warnings: Restrained, tasered, Vomiting, Emotional whump, Shock
‘Mom?’
But the woman didn’t turn around. She kept walking as if she hadn’t heard.
All thoughts of getting back to TI were forgotten completely in the need to double-check, and Scott weaved in and out of the busy New York streets.
It had been just a glance at a passing woman, but it was all Scott needed. She looked so much like his Mom his heart had stopped completely. The accompanying smell of lilac and lavender hit him just as hard.
She was dressed in a cream mac belted tight against the wind. A bright green bucket hat sat on her auburn hair and she strode purposely along the street in knee-high dark red boots. Scott could clearly see her, his Mom’s height and choice of hat keeping her in his sights.
He followed her for quite a while, never quite catching up but not losing her once either. As they walked Scott thoughts turned inwards. 
What was going on? How could this be his Mom? How could she not be? That quick glimpse of her face had been enough to convince him. Something wasn’t right, wasn’t what it seemed to be, and Scott needed to know what was going on.
Watching her turn down a side street, Scott came to a decision. He would stop her and talk to her, work out who she was. He quickened his pace as she stopped at a building and keyed in a code, and he just made it in time to stop the door from shutting.
He hadn’t noticed the building or what kind of place it was.
The walls were marble and the floor was a deep blue carpet. Neither her shoes nor his made a sound. She made it to the elevator and turned around just as the doors slid shut.
Scott’s knees suddenly gave way and he almost fell forward, but he managed to catch himself.
It was her. 
It was his Mom.
He watched the numbers climb until they stopped on the 41st floor. That stop released him from being frozen, and he pressed for the elevator to return.
But he didn’t get that far.
A heavy hand on his shoulder was all he knew before a taser was thrust into his side and Scott knew no more.
~
John was having a good day. Earth was, for once, relatively peaceful. There was a potential tropical storm brewing in the Atlantic and some flooding in India that so far was being handled by local rescue teams, EOS was keeping an eye on things while John took some precious time out and stargazed. 
iR had been busy recently and he’d not had the time to be the astronomer he was, and he’d trained Five’s telescope into an area of space that he had found the Tracy Quasar in.  He sighed contentedly as he made notes and fully immersed himself in his task.
The beeping of an incoming call was an irritation he could do without, but John put his notes aside and answered the comms. Not an emergency, then, so he was slightly puzzled when Scott’s PA was on the line.
‘George! What can I do for you?’
‘Hey, John. I’m sorry to bother you, but have you heard from Scott?’
‘No…Isn’t he with you for the investor’s meeting?’
‘I’m afraid he went out for a short walk and we haven’t seen him since. Neither he nor his security team have returned.’
‘How overdue is he?’
‘An hour. I’m so sorry for waiting, but…’
‘It’s fine, George. Are the investors all there?’
‘They are, they’re getting fractious.’
‘Give me five minutes and then I’ll join the meeting remotely.’
‘Thank you, John.’
John’s blood run cold at the thought of both Scott and his security team being missing, and he hit the emergency klaxon. His family were there in seconds.
‘Guys, we have a situation. Scott’s gone AWOL along with his security team. EOS will be looking for the route he took. Kayo…you know what to do. Virgil, Alan, I’m putting you on standby. Gordon – with Kayo please.’
There were a chorus of ‘FAB’ and they all scattered. John didn’t need to tell them what to do, they were a well-oiled machine, and as he dressed for the investor’s meeting John tried hard not to worry too much. 
They would find Scott.
He woke up some indeterminate time later in what Scott could only describe as an interrogation room. Plain room, large one-way mirror, simple wood table bolted to the floor with a metal bar running down the width to which one of his wrists was handcuffed to. An empty chair opposite him.
Scott stay still, head on the table, while he woke up and took stock of his situation. He wasn’t wearing his jacket or coat; his cuffs were rolled up and the cufflinks missing. He couldn’t feel his collar so his tie was probably missing too.
There was no way to contact John.
Sitting upright was painful. His muscles let him know he’d been in that position for some time. His side protested when he went to stretch it out, the muscles still not happy at the electrical charge used, and his adjusted his movements accordingly.
He could cry out, complain at being held, but Scott knew that this was a waiting game. They would let him stew as long as possible before coming in all superior. He’d been through this before. Might as well make good use of the time.
He folded his arm on the table and pillowed his head on it and went to sleep.
The door opened pretty quickly after that, and Scott smiled to himself. He didn’t move until someone sat down and kicked his foot. Slowly he sat up, taking in the person before him.
If this had been a movie it would have been a particularly bad cop scene. The man sitting in front of him was wearing a black suit. It was ill-fitting along the shoulders and cuffs. The white shirt had seen better days, a slight fraying at the collar tips. A knock-off Rolex was on his wrist and a plain brown folder of paper was in front of him.
But as Scott examined him he began to see that he was mistaken. There was military in his stance, his fingernails were manicured, his teeth perfect in the way that screamed money. This was not some dead-beat cop. This was a professional pretending to be a dead-beat cop.
And that worried Scott more than anything. What had he walked into?
‘Mr Tracy. My name is Detective Myers.’
‘Ok, sure. I’ll go along with that. What can I do for you, Detective?’
‘You can explain what you were doing in the lobby.’
Scott eyed the man. He could hardly say he had been following his dead Mother and ended up here, they’d never believe him. Nothing he could say would give them a satisfactory answer, so he stayed silent for now. From the man’s response it was the reaction they had expected.
‘No answer? Very well. I must assume you know full well where you are and what we are doing here. This means there has been a security breach of the highest order.’
The man stood up, placed his hands on the desk and leant forward.
‘Mr Tracy, I do not think you realise what kind of trouble you are in.’
‘Breach of National Security, I heard you.’
‘Who told you about this place?’
‘No one. I followed someone in I thought I knew.’
‘You really expect me to believe that?’
‘Believe what you want – I’m telling the truth and nothing is going to change that.’
‘We’ll soon see about that.’
He moved over to the door and knocked on it. It opened silently and Scott watched as the man turned to speak to him one last time.
‘I’ll give you some time to consider your answer more fully before I return.’
And he was gone. But Scott’s attention was focussed on the file in front of him. He waited a moment, just in case the man came back, but soon pulled the file over and opened it.
The first thing he saw was a photo of his Mom. And then one of his Dad. Scott’s stomach clenched and bile flooded his mouth, threatening to overwhelm his self-control. His eyes watered as he tried to make out the words, but all he could see was his Mom and Dad.
He recognised the outfits. It was on the ski slope. If the picture had been taken at another angle baby Alan would be at her feet…and so would he be, helping Alan to build a snowman. His Dad would have been with John and Virgil. Grandam had had charge of Gordon because the fish hadn’t wanted to ski or board that day and had demanded to go swimming in the pool…
The shock realisation that this would have been taken the day of the avalanche caused him physical pain and he clenched his stomach with his free hand, still fighting to control himself.
He lost.
Scott vomited over the floor and continued until he was dry heaving. By the time he could form a coherent thought he was shaking. He wiped his eyes and then his mouth, sat back utterly exhausted and waited. He felt like he needed his stomach stitched back together, like his heart had been ripped apart at the seams. He needed answers.
What the hell was going on?
On the other side of the glass the woman he’d followed was biting her lip. She’d known what they were asking her to do, hadn’t really wanted to be a party to this…but she’d had no choice. Not really.
Her boss had wanted Scott Tracy and Scott Tracy she had snared. The method may have been underhand, but there was good reasoning behind the how they had employed. She watched with growing concern and a small amount of guilt as the man threw up after seeing the photos in the file.
She knew what seeing them would have done to him and she ached for him. 
Not long after she was joined by the man who had been questioning Scott. He stood beside her and watched two, smiling cruelly as he noticed the vomit. He looked to his watch.
‘Time to make Scott Tracy disappear.’
‘Do you think he’ll do what the Boss wants?’
‘Doesn’t matter what I think or even what Tracy thinks. As of now Scott Tracy has officially  been detained under the Patriot Act and he’ll never see his brothers or be a free man again if he doesn’t undertake the mission.’ 
‘His family will fight it.’
‘Who cares? By the time they even realise there’s a problem Tracy will be on a plane and we will be long gone.’
She nodded. Her role in this…mission was not yet over, and the part she had to play was going to cause heartache to the man she was watching. There literally was nothing she could do about that, though. So she turned on her heel and followed her colleague out to finalise their transport.
It was EOS who spotted Scott weaving through the crowded pavement. It was John who spotted who he was following. As his mouth fell open and his blood pressure dropped as adrenaline flooded his system. If it wasn’t for being in Zero-G John would have fallen to the ground.
As it was EOS had called Virgil and Grandma in a panic when he didn’t answer her repeated calls. Eventually their combined voices got through to John and he pulled himself together. Getting Kayo and Gordon on the comms too John proceeded to show everyone who Scott had been following using an amalgamation of camera angles.
There was stunned silence.
‘John…was that…’
‘No. It can’t have been.’
‘But it looks so much like her!’
‘I know, I know. Something else is going on here.’
They watched the two enter the building. Immediately John’s fingers were flying. He frowned as he couldn’t get the answers he sought from his searches. EOS wasn’t having much luck either.
‘Kayo, are you nearly there? There’s something suspicious about that building. I can’t find out what it is.’
‘FAB, John. Five minutes.’
There was a chime of an incoming call, and John almost swiped it away. But it was their Godmother, and maybe, just maybe she could have the answers they needed. But it was Colonel Casey who spoke first.
‘John, why are you investigating a building belonging to the NSA? They have called me to demand an explanation.’
‘NSA? What do they want with Scott?’
Their Godmother paled immediately.
‘John – tell me everything.’
14 notes · View notes
whatgaviiformes · 1 year
Text
Fic: Mistakes Were Made (Oneshot)
Hallo! This is a Christmas gift for the amazing @the-original-sineater who went from fandom friend, to RPG friend, to really just all around friend. You’re awesome, thank you for all your support. 
She and I had a good cackle over this ficlet, so I hope the rest of you enjoy :) 
I promise I am not too evil.... 
*****
Summary: You know that trope where a brother turns evil and forces another family member to choose between the others? Yeah, that’s not *exactly* this, but it’s also not *not* this. A Christmas gift of fic for SinEater
Characters: Tracy Bros. 
Words: 1.8K
This is also on Ao3, posted here if you like. 
Mistakes Were Made
John’s eyes held a darkness Gordon had never seen before, at least not directed towards his family. This was beyond even the time Gordon released a stink bomb on Thunderbird Five. His mouth flat, his eyes firm, John gave his brothers no mind as he stared down their eldest brother. 
Gordon gaped, glancing between himself and Alan. His spacebound brother knew exactly what choice he was giving Scott. It was a no-win scenario, and an unfathomable choice that put the kobayashi maru to shame. 
“John! No!” Virgil protested, shaking his head from side to side in defiance. “Don’t do this.”
 “Choose, Scott.” John's words were ice.
“I can’t!” Scott closed his eyes. 
“Choose! Or it’s all of you instead.” His eyes narrowed into daggers, “Three…Two…”
“You’re maniacal,” Gordon whispered, his hands shaking while his older brother incited panic among them.
“...One-”
“Gordon! I choose Gordon!” 
He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath, and it released in a gasp. He knew it was coming. Scott would never have chosen Alan in a million years.
 Scott couldn’t meet his eyes, crossing his arms around himself with regret, while John’s form twisted towards Gordon.
He wouldn’t give John the satisfaction, his chin raised, his eyes blazing as turquoise pierced through him. 
“Do what you’re gonna do.” 
And the room exploded. 
Earlier that Day
“Because,” Virgil drawled, “We help people. This town has a need, and we have the capabilities to eradicate it.”
“Why are we doing this?” Alan asked for the fourth time, the mud from the rainy morning causing his boots to squelch as they trekked through the woods.
“Goblins though? Aren’t we” - he gestured among the four of them- “a little above goblins?”
“They are terrorizing the town, Al,” Scott fell into step beside him, clasping his hand on his shoulder.
“Would you three shush!”  Gordon whispered from the front, glancing back at his three companions bumbling through the brush like they’d only just started taking bounties. None of them were particularly quiet, and Alan’s armor gave away their position like the ding of a bell, but they had agreed they’d at least try to approach with some manner of stealth.
He had his own concerns around their youngest member's line of questioning  - Alan was young, and he'd learn eventually that you shouldn't assume anything would be simple when it was your life and the lives of your friends on the line. But for the sake of staying silent now was not the time. Their lack of stealth had already alerted a giant boar along the road, and Gordon was still feeling the ache in his side as a result of Alan's volume the first time he'd mentioned it.
He could only focus on one spell of this type at a time, and he regretted that he couldn’t cast the ability to pass without detection on his friends while he had his tracking spell still up. But he was lucky he hadn’t lost focus from the damage taken from the boar.
His green cape fluttered silently with the wind, and he pulled the hood forward to obscure the gold of his hair. The rest of his protective armor was finely worked leather, browns and greens to blend into the forest as he checked for traps along the trail and made a path for his companions to avoid getting lost. At his side, his magical ukulele vibrated, as his calling was both towards that of a tracker and that of a minstrel.
He nodded, pleased to hear the forest settle around them once his siblings went quiet. He reached out with his senses for the faint magical tether to the goblin he’d found stealing chickens from a farmhouse earlier, and he was rewarded with the tracking mark coursing through him, directing his feet to move southward.
This way , he gestured, putting his finger up to his lips to remind them that they were closing in.
He kept his hand on the hilt at his side, his double short swords at the ready in case they were ambushed through the brush or from the trees. He and Alan both had a crossbow in case they needed to fight at a distance, but they’d be more beneficial to the team in direct combat. Scott and Virgil had the spells to fire at range, and they did often - Scott favoring his magical darts while Virgil, as their healer, favored buffing them in support. Both of them had cards up their sleeves, and new spells to try.
Alan was their soldier with heavy plated armor in gleaming bronze. For once, it made Virgil look small, as their tank of an older brother had chosen to stick with light protection considering Scott’s cover and his more distant position in times of combat. He would cover Scott in return too, as their eldest brother wore no armor at all. It interfered with his enchanter magic and  the ripple of energy always present in the stone at the top of his quarterstaff.
One heavy fighter, two magical nukes, and Gordon, who straddled both worlds. It had worked for them so far, though he also attributed it to three rules he abided by before leaving a town 1) never depart without a healing potion 2) always have 50 feet of rope on you and 3) know that it will never be a “simple” quest.
The good thing about goblins, however, was that they were still quite dumb. With sharp eyes looking for signs of their camp, Gordon quickly found the blaze of their cooking fire, made near the mouth of a cave, as they had no notion of the possibility they might have been followed.
He held up his hand to motion for his siblings to halt. At his side Virgil pressed forward to touch his shoulder, and he felt Virgil’s guiding presence course through him.
They continued to stealth forward, surrounding the cavemouth to prepare for their attack.
Then, in a catastrophic failure to their intent, Alan’s boot got caught in a deep section of mud, and in his scramble to remain balanced his armor created a clamor of sound so loud it alerted the collection of goblins in the interior that they had company.
“Whoops,” Gordon said. “I guess it’s go time.”
Many things happened at once.
Virgil ran inside to be able to see who he was fighting.  He raised one arm toward the sky as a streak of radiant light descended from above towards one unfortunate goblin closest to where it blocked the entrance, then with his other arm he threw up a protective divine weapon in the form of a translucent harp which bludgeoned into the goblin behind the first.
Quickly, Gordon slid past his arms, deeper into the cave, his swords whirling in a dervish of slashing.
Inside, the creatures descended on him. He saw not just goblins, but hobgoblins too, the tracking magic pinging around him as they raised their weapons.
Gordon felt their swords catch upon his armor, and some sliced into his skin.
Alan ran forward on the other side of the cave, his long sword approaching one of the hobgoblins.
“I can end this,” Scott said confidently, suddenly right behind Virgil at the mouth of the cave. “I cast fire sphere.”
“No!” Virgil’s shout reverberated around the small cave. But it was far too late. The magic had been cast.
~*~
The table fell into chaos.
“What is wrong with you?!”
Scott narrowed his eyes at the spell card in his hand. “What do you mean, Virg? Just look at all the damage. It’s gonna get all of them in one go.”
“Who’s idea was it to let Scott have the nukes again?” Gordon joked, reaching for the bowl of chips at the center of the table. He’d liked this character too.
“You idiot. It’s gonna get more than just all of them.” Virgil pointed towards the virtual board where the figures that represented themselves had all moved into the cave. “It’s gonna hit all of us too, dingbat. Read. Your. Spells.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh .”
Behind the DM screen, John just smiled at them.
“I should’ve healed us along the road.”
"Yeah, but you didn't," Gordon mumbled mid chew at Virgil. He'd covered his mouth with his hand at least.
“Maybe you can change it,” Alan assured Scott, his eyes glancing over the board, calculating the area of effect, the small space.  “John, can’t you -?”
“Absolutely not.” John shook his head, his arms crossed. “This isn’t Scott’s first time playing a spell caster. Kid’s gloves are off, folks.” He glanced between the players at his table - Gordon’s chewing to try to break the tension, and Alan’s crestfallen expression, and Virgil angrily padding through his inventory for what healing he had at his disposal, and Scott hurriedly trying to re-read his spell card. “Here’s what I will do. Magic’s cast, so what’s done is done. But you haven’t placed it yet.” He narrowed his eyes. “Choose wisely.”
The four of them pressed closer to the board, studying their positions and possibilities, calculating how the 20 foot ball of flame could descend on their position without hurting all of them. Except there wasn’t a way out, and John knew it.
“I’m going to hit either Alan or Gordon no matter where I place it.”
“I have potions. I have healing. It will be fine! How low are you?”
“Low,” Gordon and Alan chorused.
"Why didn't you tell me!" Virgil moaned.
Alan shot back, "You should've asked."
“If the damage is high enough, it could kill us outright,” Gordon explained. That’s the way the game rolled sometimes, and Gordon had been playing long enough to know that.
And he’d been playing with John long enough to know his brother would be unwavering. John was a fair game master, not a merciful one. He grimaced at Virgil’s last ditch effort to sway him to let Scott reconsider the spell, and then John gave him his final call to make a decision.
"What are you gonna do, Scott?" John steepled his fingers.
Scott wavered, of course he did. But as soon as it came down to risking a TPK for their folly, it hadn't taken but a moment. Time stopped after hearing his own name. Gordon's heart beat slowly, hard in his chest, and he steeled himself for whatever John had cooked up for this moment in the brief time of their exchange.
“Gordon,” John said, his voice even. “A flaming sphere of magic descends on you and everyone around you, so fast you don’t even have time to feel the heat before you hear the screams. I need you to make an agility save."
Brutal.
“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”  He rubbed his hands on his lounge pants to remove the crumbs on his finger and picked up his favorite 20-sided dice - blue like the sea. He blew on it for luck as he rolled it in his hand for a few seconds longer than necessary,  then released it onto the table, holding his breath as it rolled…
“I can’t watch!” Virgil turned away.
…bounced
…and the number was far, far too low.
"It envelops you." John turned to their oldest brother. “Roll for damage.”
End Note: You decide what happens next! For those with a d20, if you have one. 1-10, the damage is BRUTAL and his character dies, 11-20, he survives but goes unconscious and Virgil has to use one of those fancy healing potions. If you don't have a d20, you probably have a d6. Roll that baby - 1-3 the worst happens, 4,5,6 all ends well. <3 Isn't the world of RPG's fuuuuuuun?
57 notes · View notes
mariashades · 11 months
Text
Friends and Enemies, Chapter Eleven
Ao3 link here My thanks to @the-original-sineater for the technical support
Belah smirked to himself as the golden door of his place between places swung open to let in the blushing pink light of sunrise and the warm, tropical air of Tracy Island. His brother had been careful, very, very careful, but not quite careful enough. Kyrano had warded every door on Tracy Island bar one- a half-tumbled storage shed on the far eastern side of the island, long overlooked from when it had been put there during the construction phase at Tracy Island. It’d taken him almost a day to find it without setting off the wards, but he’d finally discovered the chink in the proverbial armour.
Unfortunately, finding enough fighters for the assault had been harder than either of them had anticipated and they’d only finished gathering them together just an hour ago. 
Despite his silver tongue, Q’aumok had only been able to sway a handful of Sol warriors over to him- evidently in the past, Sol-fae royalty who’d previously sickened and then recovered had taken an extremely dim view of those who had too quickly given their support to the next in line before the incumbent had passed on. 
The Hood grimaced at the memory of his own efforts at gathering forces. He’d forgotten how hard recruitment was when you couldn’t simply speak a wyrding of command and overlay someone’s will with your own. Word had somehow gotten out about that little trick of his and the bulk of the mercenary organisations he’d contacted had refused to even answer his calls. He’d had to resort to the lower tier organisations and offer full payment up front. 
The only bright spot was it wasn’t his gold and jewels, but some of the pickings from A’aumi’s collection. Q’aumok hadn’t been pleased about that in the slightest- he coveted everything of his sister’s, including the contents of her jewel boxes, and had reluctantly parted with some of the lesser ornaments. 
“My lord,” one of the Sol-fae warriors saluted to Q’aumok in their fashion- passing the right hand down over the face. “We are ready, do you give the word?” 
“It is given.” Q’aumok purred. “Remember, the humans and the fae are to be captured, kill the rest.” 
“Yes, my lord.” The commander nodded to him and led his six fighters through the doorway and onto Tracy Island. 
The Hood turned to his ten mercenaries. “Your orders are the same as the fae, but your main concern is capturing the facilities.” 
“Sir.” The leader of the mercenaries, a swarthy, bull-necked chap in jungle-camo fatigues who looked like he belonged in the front row of a rugby team, nodded curtly and jerked his head for his team of nine to follow, splitting into two groups as soon as they crossed the threshold to take the villa from above and below.
Once everyone was through, Belah turned to his ally and smiled, stepping back to allow the fae through the doorway he’d opened. “Well, we can’t let them have all the fun, can we?” 
“No, no we cannot.” Q’aumok fingered the pommel of the heavy obsidian knife tucked into the sash of his robes. “Let us go. I do not wish to miss this.”
 0o0o0
Jeff had been in the kitchen, getting the coffees lined up and ready while Gordon had his morning swim, when two things happened at once- the network of familial links seemed to unkink somehow, and that spot between his shoulder blades suddenly flared up like he’d been struck. “GORDON, GET OUT OF THE WATER! EVERYONE UP!” Jeff bellowed out the orders and bolted for the lounge just moments before the klaxon of the intruder alarm started wailing.
Reaching the desk, Jeff activated the comms point with a swipe of his hand and started barking out orders as he dug out his iron hatchet from the desk drawer. “Ma, get Brains and Hope and go down to the bunker! EOS, lock-down protocol and tell the GDF we’re under attack! Alan, John, get into your suits in case we have to get the iron sand out. Virgil, Kayo, Kyrano, lounge! Gordon, go tell White-Scales to take her pod and clear outta here.”
“F.A.B!” Gordon shouted back over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs and bolted for his launch tube- quickest access to the bay from here was from Four’s tank.
“Dad!” John translocated into the lounge, and to Jeff’s shock the fae was half carrying Scott! The actual Scott, not the eagle! He was still in his uniform, half opened, scuffed and dirtied from the mountain rescue, and he looked ready to collapse, but Jeff wasn’t about to complain about his state, his son was back! “Take him!” John stayed just long enough to pass Scott over and he was gone again. 
“Scott!” Jeff immediately wrapped his eldest up in his arms and held him close. He knew that he probably couldn’t spare the time, but after what they’d been through and the thought that he’d never get to do this again, he was going to take the chance and use a moment to hold his boy. 
“Dad…” Pale and weak, Scott sagged into his arms, knees buckling and fingers clutching at his shirt.
If Scott’s trembling was from exhaustion, emotion or both, Jeff just couldn’t tell, but he knew that Scott wasn’t in any shape for a fight. He gently guided Scott over to the chair and helped him sit. “Scott, stay here and co-ordinate from the desk, we’ll take care of things. Clear?” He asked. It killed him to let go of Scott, but he had to get to the concealed weapons locker behind the reading nook just off from Virgil’s launch tube.
“F.A.B.” It was reluctant, but for once Scott recognised that he’d hit his limit and had to stand back this time.
Jeff rested a gentle hand on his shoulder in reassurance and comfort, then went back to issuing orders through the comms point. “Penny, Parker, find where they’re coming from and dump iron sand on it before they can bring in more fae. If you can blow it up, even better.” 
“F.A.B, we’re on our way.” Penelope’s voice was cool and crisp, but in the background he could hear Parker busy inventing new curses. Jeff couldn’t help the grim half-smile at the creativity on display. With any luck, some of those curses would stick to their targets.
In the meantime, a gesture from Scott brought up a map of the Island, and Jeff was pleased to see the coded dots of people moving to their positions. There was a momentary glimpse of three, maybe four groups of intruders, then the map fritzed and cut out. 
Apologies, they found a sensor node and have attached a scrambler. Our internal communications array has also been affected. EOS’ icon popped up. I am attempting to work around it. 
“Do what you can, otherwise get John onto relaying messages,” Jeff ordered. He gave Scott’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, then ran to the reading nook. He found the concealed access panel, pressed his hand on it and waited for the double beep that confirmed his identity. A hardback-sized section of wall popped out to let him into the small weapons locker. 
Eighteen years ago, he wouldn't have dreamed of having concealed weapons caches in the main areas of the house. 
Eighteen years ago, his family hadn't been attacked by a megalomaniac fae. 
The 10 gauge pump action shotgun was first. A handful of hand-loaded iron deer slug shells went into his pockets and five went into the shotgun. His iron hatchet was already tucked into the back of his belt, a sheathed iron knife and 22. calibre pistol (it looked the easiest for him to handle right now) would go to Scott, along with two 10-round clips with more hand-loaded iron bullets.
Then his eyes lit upon the other item he was considering taking from the locker. In the act of reaching for it, Jeff paused.  
Iron hurt fae. It weakened the connection between flesh and soul, distancing them from their power and making them weaker and vulnerable. It was possible to kill a fae just with iron, but it took a lot of work. What would be fatal to a human wouldn't kill a fae, it'd take a lot more than just the one hit to a vital organ or two. Even if you shot a fae in the head it wouldn’t kill them.
Obsidian killed fae. It cut the soul right out of them. A fae wounded in a vital area with obsidian would bleed and die just like a human would. 
Jeff reached into the back of the locker and took out the crude obsidian dagger, the leaf-shaped blade roughly hafted to a wooden handle with glue and strips of leather. 
This wasn't the knife that killed Lucille. That knife was deep in one of the storage caves, wrapped in rags and locked in an old ammo crate he'd found in the barn. This one he’d made himself, shortly after Lucille had been taken from them. He'd been going through a dark place after the funeral, and then John had told him that stranger fae were lurking around the borders of the farm. 
Not in the mood to play around with even potential threats to his wounded and hurting family, he had immediately bought some chunks of obsidian from the local rockhound club, taught himself how to knap and crafted a rough blade. Then he'd gone to the most recent spot that John had sensed the fae at and left a handful of obsidian flakes there. The message was clear- I know you're there, and I am prepared to kill you. 
John hadn't reported any other lurking fae after that. 
Jeff hefted the knife, watching the light play off the stone. Obsidian frightened John and Alan. Because of that deeply ingrained fear he wouldn't have pulled out the knife if it was anyone else, but this was Q’aumok. He’d murdered Lucille, tried to kidnap Alan, was almost Scott’s murderer, and he’d stolen over a decade of time together from Tanusha and Kyrano. 
With that in mind, the decision was a lot easier to make. 
Jeff tucked the knife into the simple sheath for it and strapped it around his waist. If he had any say in it, Q’aumok wasn't going to make it home today. 
18 notes · View notes
oneyeartowrite · 2 years
Text
Eight Steps. Five Years.
Thought I’d try something a little more light-hearted with John. 
Behold, John on drugs...
************************************************************************
“Are you ready, Scott Tracy?” The Hood’s eyes gleamed. “Are you ready to watch the world burn?”
Scott struggled to free himself from the men holding his arms. One cock of a gun aimed at Alan’s head, and he gave up the fight, sagging forward in the men’s grip. Virgil and Gordon were being held in a similar manner, and the fight left them too. They shared a look of doom, passing it around each other one by one, but when they turned to John, he burst out laughing and covered his mouth.
The Hood had his finger hovering over a button. A button to launch a nuclear bomb, the catalyst to the world’s annihilation. He had them trapped in his bunker, poised to watch the end of the world play out in front of them. The horror weighing down in Scott’s gut attempted to pull him to the floor. Virgil looked to Scott for answers, Gordon eyed the gunman in front of Alan, Alan was pale-faced, muttering pleas under his breath.
They were done. Defeated. Yet…
John laughed again and slapped his hands over his mouth. He slipped them down, making his bottom lip pop. “I’m so sorry. I know I’m being rude, I’m trying not to be though. It’s hard, really fucking hard. Fuck, that’s a lot of swearing isn’t it?”
Scott double-took, and gawped at his brother. He couldn’t find any words, and neither could the rest of his family. John was unsteady on his feet, drifting forward, only to lurch back again.
The Hood lifted his finger and stabbed it in John’s direction. “What the hell is wrong with that one.”
Scott flexed his eyebrows at Virgil. Virgil mouthed ‘shock’ back but finished his silent diagnosis with a frown. John wasn’t one to break under pressure, and if this was his breaking point, it was a little alarming it came with a dose of hysteria.
One of the men holding Gordon sighed, “I kind of…. mixed up his dose.”
The Hood glared. “Care to elaborate?”
“I was supposed to give him a sedative to get him here like the others, but…I may have given him something else. Something,” the man coughed. “I use for recreational purposes.”
“It’s LSD,” John said. “I remember. It’s like my brain is crawling. It kinda tickles.”
“You’ve taken LSD before?” Gordon squawked.
“I was curious. Lady Penelope was curious…”
“Lady Penelope took LSD!”
John gasped, and tried to catch a speck of dust in the air. “Dust. Human-made stars. How fascinating.” He cupped it in his hand. “This is definitely one of Scott’s, it screams of stress. It’s okay little speck of dust, Johnny’s got you now.”
The Hood waved his hand. “Gag him or something. I don’t want him ruining his moment. This is when the world becomes mine.” He held his finger aloft, smiling to himself, but before he could press the button, John made a wrong answer noise. The buzzer sound echoed, and all eyes fell on him.
“I thought I said to gag that one!”
“World domination is never as easy as flipping a switch, trust me, I know. I tried the whole nuclear explosion, world war three route when I was ten. “ John dodged the gag coming towards him, knocking into Virgil who attempted to grab him. “I mean, it’s dramatic, kind of exciting, but you fuck the planet, you don’t kill everybody, and you’ll be long dead before it’s safe to leave the bunker. Like…your kids, kids, kids might get out of here, but they’ll have issues when they get to the surface. What’s the point in ruling the world, when there’s nothing of it left?”
Silence descended on the room. Broken only when John decided to act out a missile launch and subsequent explosion with his hand.
“KABOOM!”
The Hood stepped away from the button, gawping. He went to speak, but John got there first.
“What’s your second step?”
“Second step?”
“Yeah,” John stumbled forward, pointing at the button. “That’s step one.”
“No.” The Hood said slowly. “That’s the final step—
“No, no, no.” John scrubbed his face. He groaned and threw a look at Scott. “Can you believe the absolute idiocy of this man?”
Scott startled, “Um—
“You’ve gone about this completely the wrong way if that’s your final step. Call yourself a villain. What a disorganised mess. Genuinely, makes my blood boil. Look.” He wiped his brow. “Look at that, exasperation. What the hell were you thinking? Sometimes I think the only way a villain can win is if I become one.”
The Hood folded his arms. “I suppose you’ve got the full plan?”
John studied his nails with a pout. “I don’t mean to brag but….”
“John,” Scott said, carefully. His brother turned to him sharply, and he recoiled at his pupils, covering all of the turquoise in his eyes. John’s orange hair darkened with sweat, and trails ran down his flushed skin. “I…I think you should be quiet now.”
John’s face scrunched up.
“Most of the time I’m told I’m too quiet. I need to be more social, I need to talk, and be articulate,” he waved his arms, knocking the gunman trained on Alan. “But when I’m like that, it’s wrong. I’m not doing it right. Tell me, Scott, is there a right and wrong way of being social? I’m anti-social, that suggests I’ve made the choice to become anti, but that’s not true, I don’t like the anxiety, and the panic, and the self-consciousness, and the fear—"
“I would like to hear your plan.” The Hood said, carefully. “If you don’t mind.”
“Give me an incentive to share it.”
The Hood clicked his fingers. A gun was pressed against John’s forehead. Scott began struggling against the men holding him again, but stilled at the sound of the gun cocking.
John clacked his tongue. He cracked his fingers, then reached for the gun, not smacking it away, he grabbed it and pressed it to his head. “That plan is in here, in my racing, chaotic, brain, and sometimes I think blowing it out is the best option. “ The gunman darted panicked glances in the Hood direction.  His eyes widened. His bottom lip trembled. John sighed, swiftly moved his fingers, and the clip from the gun dropped onto the floor.  The loud thud was enough of a distraction for John to swing back his arm and punch him in the face.
He stepped over him and headed closer to the Hood.
The Hood retreated, giving John plenty of room. “It’s really hot in here. I’m sweating.” John wiped the back of his arm over his forehead and shook the sweat onto the floor. “That’s disgusting. Is there no aircon down here?”
“World. Domination.”
The Hood said, clicking his fingers in front of John’s blown eyes. John tried to bat them like a playful cat.
“Right, yeah. First, you’ve got to ask yourself what kind of world domination you’re after. You’ve got to think of time frame, and sustainability, and repercussions, but you just think, look at that shiny button, and the big rocket, and the explosives, and really, they are minor points in the grand scheme of things,” John threw his arms out wide, slapping a man in the face. He spun around, and the Hood ducked to avoid a palm to the cheek. “There are questions you need to ask yourself before you think about shiny buttons.”
“What questions?”
“Do you want a fully functioning society, or do you want a wreck.”
“Fully functioning—”
“Then no pretty, shinny, little buttons.” John crouched down in front of it. He touched it, tapped his finger against it, and everyone inhaled sharply. He rested his chin against the desk, stroking the button. “Pressing buttons is always so tempting though, right?”
No one dared breathe.
“How something so small can trigger something so huge? It’s amazing, isn’t it.”
Scott coughed awkwardly. “Maybe…move away from it.”
“Do you think so?” John asked.
“I absolutely think it’s a good idea,” Virgil said in a rush of words.
John cupped his ear. “What’s that Gordon? I should totally push it?”
Gordon launched into the air. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Sorry, that’s my inner Gordon speaking.”
John dropped to the floor, laughing. The Hood nudged him with his foot. “Let's hear it.”
“Hear what?”
“Your plan.”
John rolled onto his front and held up his fingers. “I’ve got it down to eight steps, five years, and I’m happy with that. Eos, three steps, one year, but she kills at will, and I won’t do that so mine takes a little longer, but you know, I don’t wipe out mankind with my eight-step plan I just,” John swiped at another speck of dust. “Move them elsewhere.”
The Hood crouched over John. “Move them?”
“Yeah, it really is hot in here, like, even the concrete feels like it's bubbling. Why is it so hot?”
Everyone except John startled at a piercing alarm. The source. Virgil’s wrist strap flashing up dangerous readings coming from John’s suit.
“How did you get them to…move on?” The Hood asked.
“No, no, no. That’s my plan, you’ve got to think of your own.”
The Hood pointed at the hologram of the globe turning in front of him. “I have—
“Nothing but a button. No plan.” John reached out and grabbed the hologram. It disappeared. One of the Hood's advisors yelled out in protest, but the Hood’s glare sealed his lips.
John twisted towards one of the many computers. “Let’s have a little thinking session between us, and see what we can come up with, hmmm?”
No one spoke. Virgil shuffled, showing Scott John’s readings. Scott widened his eyes and cursed under his breath.
John groaned. “Seriously, nothing? Alan, throw me a bone, you’ve got a brain cell and a sadistic streak, start us off.”
Alan glanced at Scott for permission. “Urm. A virus.”
“Brilliant Alan.”
He beamed at John’s praise.
“There are lots of different viruses, but you’ve got to make allowances for immunity. Some people will naturally be immune. There are also pesky scientists working against you, so I suggest you deal with them before releasing the virus. Some mass assassination, but that’s time and money, but then when we get past that, we’ve got to think about the type of virus.”
One of the Hood’s men cleared his throat. “When you say a virus, do you mean….like a zombie virus?”
Gordon pipped up, “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no zombie virus.”
John clutched the back of his neck. “Keep telling yourself that and you’ll sleep at night.”
Gordon recoiled. “What?”
“Let's release the zombie virus,” John said with mock cheer. “Now, we’ve got problems from the start—
“Yeah, Zombies!” Gordon shouted.
“No, the zombies are the solution, people are the problem. They’re resilient, not to mention some people have prepared for that eventuality. There are courses and everything, let's say we wipe out eighty percent.” John brought up a pie chart displaying eighty percent. “We come out of hiding, and the world, well, it stinks. Literally, all that rotting flesh and corpses are everywhere, and there are not enough people for the place to function. Then starts the infighting and the gangs, and the cannibalism because it’s far easier to hunt humans than anything else, and I for one don’t want to chow down on Scotty, he looks tough and bitter.”
“Hey!” Scott snapped. “I’d eat your scrawny ass first.”
“Virgil on the other hand, if I had to eat one of my brothers, it would be him.”
Virgil rubbed his temple. “Thanks, I guess.”
The Hood sighed. “Forget the zombies, and the viruses, I don’t want the world to be that much of a state. I need everyone to do as I say, that’s all.”
“Says Mr shiny button.” John folded his arms. “Anyone going to offer up any other ideas?”
Virgil cleared his throat. “Why dominate? Won’t being likeable and respected earn you the same rewards in the long run?”
John smiled at Virgil. “And that is why you’ve got the softest soul of anyone I know.”
Virgil flashed a shy yet confused smile.
“That will never work.” The Hood snapped.
“It will,” John answered, “But you’re talking about….” He tapped away on a different computer until a number appeared as a hologram. It climbed higher in front of them. “About thirty-six years for that to take effect.” He glanced at the Hood. “I’d say you have thirty-two, and I’m scarily accurate. I freak myself out with it. Genuinely. But thirty-two years for you.”
The Hood looked away, mouthing thirty-two.
“So we need a balance between the outright terror of a virus and the destruction that comes with it, and the nice guy smoothing out the ragged issues of the world, and that’s where my eight steps come in, but I’m not going to hand them to you. Work them out for yourself.”
“I’m starting to understand why Jeff kept you hidden away…”
John launched himself at a chair on wheels and whizzed round in circles. He stopped suddenly. “He hid me away because out of all my brothers, he liked me the least.”
Scott made a protesting noise, but John cut across him.
“It’s okay, Scotty.”
“Your father was an idiot for not valuing you.” The Hood wandered closer. “If you were my son, I’d be proud of you.”
John tilted his head, considering.
“That’s flattering and disturbing all in one.” He looked into the Hood's eyes, then hummed. “But it would never have worked out.”
“What?”
“If I was your son.”
“Why not?”
“Well,” John sighed. “I’d be the brains behind your schemes, and the world would be ours,  easily I might add, but then you’d grow paranoid knowing I could take it from you. Which I could because I’m a genius. You’d plot to have me killed, and because I would’ve already foreseen that, I’d kill you first.” He shrugged. “See. It wouldn’t work out, but thanks though, it’s nice to feel appreciated and I imagine for a few years you would be proud of me, and maybe there is a part of me that craves that, but everything has a time limit. Tick-tock.”
John leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. “Now, I’m tired. Hush everyone. Wake me up when you’ve figured it out.”
The door burst open. A SWAT team entered, shouting out commands. The Hood’s men dropped to their knees with their hands on their heads, but The Hood lunged, flicking the button.
The hologram of the world appeared again.
Everyone stared at it, waiting, but nothing changed.
John cracked an eye open. “That’s another thing about buttons, a snip of a wire and they’re useless…” He grinned at the Hood’s shocked face. “You have no plan, and now you have no button. Night night.”
He promptly fell asleep.
And upon waking in a bed on Tracy island, hooked up to a load of machinery,  with four worried brothers hovering over him, remembered nothing.
Scott ruffled his hair.
John looked up at him. Dazed, and still not one hundred percent on the planet. “Why am I here?”
“You had a little trip to the land of crazy,” Gordon announced. “That’s putting it mildly.”
Alan nodded. “It was totally awesome.”
“Scary,” Virgil mumbled, closing his hand around John's wrist to feel his pulse. “For multiple reasons.”
“But we’re really proud of you.” Scott kept stroking John’s hair. “You distracted the Hood with your manic talk of world domination, severed a wire under the desk to the kill switch and got an SOS out to Eos via the Hood’s network…”
“Eight steps. Five years.” John said dreamily. He closed his eyes. “And no use of zombies like Eos’s plan…” he sighed, “Then the world will be mine.”
The brothers passed around another worried look between them.
Scott continued stroking John’s hair. “I’m so relieved you’re not a villain.”
69 notes · View notes
darkestwolfx · 3 days
Text
It's a Long Story about the Topiary
I have nothing to say about this that hasn't already been said. @tsarinatorment as I promised you this series was always going to have more written, and as you requested it, I got straight on with it!
I'll add fanfiction.net link once it generates! Notes: I don’t know how long awaited this may be for everyone who reads it, but I know for some it will be very important to them! So I hope you enjoy whether you are new or old to this little universe (that will not be staying little at all)!
This was something I fully intended to write before going away, so I’m pleased to have the chance to finish it and bring it to you all now. It seemed like the appropriate next add-on, but there are a few others also that I want to add also.
Might be best read after ‘A Seed Once Sown’ and ‘Afternoon Tea’ but it’s not a necessity as this fic will contain everything you’d need to make this a stand-alone read also.
And if anyone had noticed, yes, the title is a play on the song “long way to Tipperary”.
Also ages don’t particularly matter, but I’ve worked out based on what rough idea TAG did give us that when the boys rescued Jeff they were around the following give or take: Scott - 28, John - 25, Virgil – 23, Gordon – 20, Alan – 17 In case this is something people like to have in mind when reading.
Words:  6226
Summary: After Jeff returned home, there were a few things that needed explaining. Like the intriguing garden furniture…Chronologically, this is looking to be part 6 of International Gardening Services, but for now it's only the 3rd part written.
----------------------------------------
There were many things to get used to again by being back on Earth.
Gravity was a noticeable first and combined with sunlight – a noticeable second – they had quickly become his bane for several days. Jeff had never had the same struggle with returning to gravity that John did as a young man, but now he felt a little of his second son’s difficulty. No– a lot, he understood it a lot.
He knew the boys had worried, but after a week or so, he’d managed to prove to them that he was right as rain (if not a little unsteady if he rose too fast, but that resolved itself again in another week).
The third – almost sadly – was his mother’s cooking. After surviving on rations, the thought of a meal was heavenly, until it was “meatloaf surprise” served up before him. This was a new take on the dish, something his mother had obviously developed in his absence, but it was no improvement to her known poor cooking - nor the standard “meatloaf” which had come before it - and Jeff had to admit he (momentarily) wondered if he would be better off on rations again.
The fourth, was the realisation that his boys… weren’t really boys anymore, not even the youngest. In his absence, they’d grown up by themselves, taught each other what they needed to, and – whilst he could look upon them now with as much love and pride as he ever had – the realisation that they didn’t need him anymore was (more than) a little soul-breaking. He couldn’t say that to them either, not after everything those developments had allowed them to achieve, which included rescuing me.
No, it would be an insult to say he wished for the sons he left behind, but… he did miss– no, regret what he’d lost. He supposed the boys likely felt the same way, to have lost him for eight years, only to gain him back now when… well, when they didn’t really need him anymore.
Logically, he knew that wasn’t really true. Although he may have missed the formative years to still play the role of father, he would always be their father, and they would desire he be around as much as he wanted them to outlast him. That was the truth, but emotionally, it hit hard still.
That’s why he’d tried so hard, desperately fought to think of anyway to get home, and yet, no matter how much he tried, he still wondered whether it would be too late – for him or the boys, or the years they’d have lost.
It could’ve been worse: it could’ve been better, of course, also.
You could’ve never gone…
No, Jeff knew – as much as he knew his family did – that he could never have not taken that mission to stop The Hood, no matter what it cost. But if things could be different, just one time…
That was no longer worth torturing themselves with.
The fifth – and well, everything else that came after – was a mix of the more little things. Letting former friends know that he was alive and a bit less of the “former” could come back into play.
Making time to see all such people was a head-rush and not something he’d yet got round to even thinking about arranging. Except for Lee was going to return to the island. Jeff had been intrigued to hear the tales of the adventures his sons had with his old friend in his absence and Alan had eagerly agreed that he could make the trip to pick the Captain up as soon as the weather conditions on Mars cleared up again.
There was redoing his wardrobe, because for all he’d tried to keep his physique, it hadn’t been an easy mission and some of his shape had dwindled away, if not his strength.
There was learning all about the “new” things that had come into play over the last eight years, like home-made AI’s and Hypercars, and gecko gloves and deadly space lasers. Not to mention weather drones and giant allegators!
The drama wasn’t just limited to the field either, as apparently there was quite the stack of films he’d missed the release of that the family had watched on their movie nights (sometimes afternoons – “depending on the type of week we were having”, he’d been informed by Gordon) that they now needed to rewatch with him. The first of such had been two weeks into his return when the holo-screen just about looked straight, and it had been enjoyable to spend such effortless time with his family again, even if he didn’t understand why Virgil and Scott no longer shared the popcorn, each having to have a bowl of their own instead, nor why John had to sit tediously (it seemed) in the middle of them both whilst Gordon seemed to snigger even when the movie didn’t prompt it.
No, he didn’t understand that, but then, it was another thing he knew he must’ve missed.
------
It was in his third week of being back – balance and vision somewhat back in coordination – that he ventured outside. The poolside smelt of chlorine and chemicals, and yet it was welcoming in its own odd way. The deck chairs were still covered the same and clearly hadn’t taken anymore burning’s from Scott’s launches of Thunderbird One. Jeff supposed he was thinking quite some way back to when the eldest was first learning to pilot the craft: and of course there would no longer be such issues. There barely had been when he left!
It seemed easier to remember the past, because he’d not made many memories over the last 8 years, only the previous twenty lived on repeat for him: from the day Scott was born to the moment he left them to go on the Zero X mission.
Only those years had existed for him.
Sitting beneath the sun, feeling the warmth on his face was glorious and something else he soon realised he’d missed. Moving their lives to the island had been necessary for so many reasons – for International Rescue to be possible, for the secrecy, and for them to start again. And the sun and the sea had seemed a good thing to encourage some of that healing.
He felt it now keenly.
It was only after a while sunbathing that he opened his eyes, blinked twice and finally took in the growth of trees opposite the pool. The island was full of trees, yes, an entire jungle worth of assorted sprouts to be more specific, so these shouldn’t be anything worth noting, but there was something… they hadn’t been there when he… left.
They seemed now to border and block in the little garden area he’d cut aside for his mother when she’d insisted if they were moving to a tropical island that she still wanted a normal garden. So he and Kyrano had put some paving stones down from the stairway he’d made around the back of the buildings, and maintained a lawn amongst all the fast growing greenery. Kyrano had planted a couple shrubs in the centre and some plants around the edges, but that was the best Jeff knew he could manage to maintain. It wasn’t really a garden as such, but it had worked to keep his mum happy.
He’d wondered, maybe once or twice, how the boys would maintain it, considering they seemed to inherit his skill in gardening from what he’d remembered and so the last thing he’d expected to see were trees.
Curiosity piqued, he rose and strode around the pool’s edge to take a closer look.
The stone pathway still seemed to run towards the stairs and through to a gap in the trees near the pool, but once you stepped through, the enclosed space originally set aside seemed to double in size. The middle of the path was now replaced with a pond, but the slabs of stone curved around the circular feature and broke off to each side, making four straight paths away from the pond. There were a series of chairs on one part of the lawn and a rockery to the far side that seemed to be full of an army of– were those geraniums?
He hadn’t been aware when he left of any of his family having strong feelings about the pink flower, but hey, he’d missed eight years’ worth of development and choices.
It was better maintained than he’d expected from the boys and some of the plant varieties Jeff couldn’t even name! It was fascinating, and intriguing. From everything he knew and all that he’d recently seen, he didn’t doubt the boys had the artistry and heavy lifting to make such a thing, he was just… bemused, he supposed. Last he remembered, Scott couldn’t even keep a cactus alive, so this much had to be a challenge.
Maybe he was giving the credit to the boys when it had all been his mother’s or Brains’ work. Although, saying that, neither of them would have been able to do something like this alone he didn’t think.
It was all a mystery, but it had a nice view!
He’d made a note to ask the boys, but that evening also brought in the revelation of Kip Harris when he rang on the holo-channel to confirm when he was next coming for dinner, and that was the start of a whole new conversation – led mostly by Gordon (for Virgil was a little starstruck and Jeff didn’t think his mother was faring better) with Alan and Scott chipping in obligatory sound effects and John rolling his eyes from where he didn’t think he could be seen, tuning in up on Five as he ran a check of all the monitoring systems and caught up with EOS.
Apparently, the red head had only come away for a few days at a time in recent years, but from the day Jeff returned with the boys until early this morning, his second child had remained firmly on the ground with them all and he’d promised to be back on the morrow.
Jeff knew John loved Thunderbird Five from the moment it successfully found orbit in space, but he hadn’t ever thought the boy would take to spending so much time up there in recent years.
But then, once again, you haven’t been here for eight years.
------
It wasn’t until the week almost turned into the fourth one since his “return to earth” – as Alan and Gordon had begun to tell time on the calendar, using “before leaving earth” and “since returning to earth” to reference pieces of conversations (and it was helpful for him, not that Jeff would admit that to his trickster pair of children) – that he remembered he’d never asked about the garden.
They’d been swept up in Alan’s graduation and a proper catch up with Lady Penelope and Parker. The old chap never changed and told him all about how he’d taught “Mr Gordon and Mr h’Alan Sir, to drive”, both of which were interesting tales.
Then, Colonel Casey had finally dropped by to visit – after Scott bashfully explained how the island’s location got revealed to her, but Jeff assured him he didn’t care about all that. In all honesty, the woman was a family friend, and he should’ve told her long ago, and most importantly, he was just glad to hear his family came off safe from their encounter with The Hood finding the island.
He and Casey had spoken for a while up in the roundhouse and by the time he headed back in, he was surprised to still hear the chatter of the boys coming from the lounge. Not surprised because that was unusual at all – the five of them had always known how to make noise when together and that didn’t seem to have stopped. It was joyful, a cacophony that he missed in his solitary grey cavern. No, what was surprising about it was that the boys were being so loud so near to dinner time! If there was one thing he’d learnt since being home, it was that the boys were hard to find (unless there was a rescue call) in that dangerous hour their Grandma occupied the kitchen before serving.
So, curious, he carried on up past the kitchen and into the lounge, trying to see if he could earwig what was captivating the boys so, and that was when he heard it.
The sixth voice.
It wasn’t his mother, or Kayo or Brains. They were all voices he was familiar with. Even The Mechanic, who had remained with them for a short stay, had gruff tones that would sound less surprising to hear than the odd, chirp reaching his ears.
As he walked in, it was easy to see his sons gathered round; Alan lounging across the leather chairs with John sat on the sofa beside him whilst Virgil and Gordon sat across from him. Scott was perched on the table and, stood between the eldest and John, taking up the centre of the room, was a complete stranger.
‘Oh, hey dad!’ Gordon called, spotting him first with the vantage of being directly opposite him. Alan promptly dropped his head back as though to confirm that his brother was right, looking at him upside down before blinking in recognition and slinging himself back up with enough speed to give him head rush, Jeff was sure.
‘Hey.’ Alan waved, almost as a way of recovering his near plummet to the floor as he barely managed to catch his grip on the side of the chair.
Gordon and Virgil were sniggering, Scott and John smiling, and the stranger… well, he seemed to fit in amongst his sons… seemed amused at the scene before them also.
For all he seemed an odd fellow, there didn’t see to be anything immediately harmful about the man and from the conversation he’d heard on the way in, it seemed like the boys had met him before. But how did he get here?
‘Uh, dad?’ Virgil’s question floated over to him, and Jeff jolted himself back into the present in time to see his middle child levering himself from the sofa, ‘You ok?’
‘I’m fine, Virgil,’ He held up a hand to halt his boy from approaching. He knew they all worried about him since his return, but he genuinely couldn’t be better. But if Virgil got started now on vitals and temperature there’d be no stopping him. No, he was fine. He was just trying to understand the conundrum of– ‘There’s a man holding a pot plant in my lounge.’
‘Ha, yeah,’ Scott started, filling him with confidence (not), ‘That’s Gladys.’
‘Him?’ He knew it was 2063, and their world had come on leaps and bounds, but–but by the laughter of his sons he’d very much misjudged this one.
‘No, the plant.’ Virgil corrected, motioning to the pot which the man extended further from his chest in response.
‘The– Boys...’ Jeff drawled, lost beyond belief, and wondering a little if he could be dreaming. None of this was making sense.
‘Dad, this is Ned Tedford.’ Finally, he supposed his second son had seen his confusion and John made the formal introduction, rising to stand beside the darker skinned man. ‘He’s our gardener.’
‘Gardener?’
Maybe that made a little bit more sense of the design that seemed to have gone into the outgrow.
‘Yep! That’s me!’ The man – Ned – cheered again, voice loud and bright, before he seemed to stumble, eyes almost visually backtracking over his words. ‘Sir.’
‘You don’t have to call him Sir!’ Gordon chastised, but the gardener was already passing off the pot plant to Scott who fumbled a moment over gripping the ceramic and all the boys seemed to start at the possibility of him dropping it (and it didn’t seem to be over concern for the soil going on the carpet, for goodness sake) whilst Ned – completely unaware of the chaos behind him – held out a hand.
‘Ned Tedford, Sir, at your gardening service.’
‘Right…’
It would be rude not to shake the man’s hand, but he was still trying to process all of this information. Of all the things he’d expected his sons to do in the time he was gone, finding a gardener, hadn’t struck him as one of them.
‘Ned,’ John continued, pulling him back into the room once more, ‘This is our dad, Jeff Tracy.’
Quickly he reached out and shook the man’s hand. He could feel Virgil’s eyes hovering heavily on him with clear question.
‘Jeff Tracy.’ He affirmed, surprised to find that the man had a stronger grip than he’d expected.
‘Mr Tracy. Ned Tedford.’
‘Yes, you said.’
‘Oh, yes, I did, didn’t I.’
But maybe the man wasn’t as confident as he tried to be, given the current bashful display, his eyes suddenly searching round until they landed on his pot plant again, which Scott seemed hasty to return to him and the rest of the boys breathed a sigh of relief at it being returned to the gardener’s hands.
The next thing he knew though, “Gladys” was before his nose.
‘This is Gladys.’
Scott had said… but when the man seemed to feel a little awkward, that seemed a little rude to say. Besides, he couldn’t deny that he still felt a little baffled himself.
‘A geranium?’
‘Yep! The world’s best travelled geranium, Sir!’
Gordon’s palm hit his face, with the mutter of, “you don’t have to call him Sir” again, just about audible.
‘Travelled?’
‘Gladys goes everywhere.’ Alan explained. ‘Like everywhere.’
‘Like, boys?’
‘You know,’ Alan continued, ‘Space.’
‘Underwater.’ Gordon added.
Virgil nodded. ‘The military.’
‘Back to space.’ Scott’s eyes were almost rolling.
‘The North Pole.’ John contributed.
‘And back to space!’ Alan finished.
‘It’s a long story.’ Ned added for himself.
Jeff was just trying to keep up with the brief explanations bouncing between his sons, aware there were many stories he was missing concerning this Ned Tedford.
‘And now earth?’ He assumed given the man’s presence before them.
‘Firmly planted, Sir.’ Ned reassured. Gordon sputtered into laughter that needed Virgil to whack him on the back to steady. ‘It’s all gardening now for us, isn’t that right, Gladys?’
Jeff felt himself blanch. Scott had risen from the table and now passed beside him, close enough for him to mutter, ‘He talks to the plant?’
‘Ah, you get used to it.’ The eldest dismissed, like it was an everyday occurrence.
Scott’s exit didn’t go unnoticed by the youngest who was craning his neck to follow the elder’s steps, his eyes narrowing as the brunette turned towards the stairs before widening as he suddenly vaulted over the back of the chair and zoomed past him.
‘Scott, keep your hands off!’
‘I’m getting the plates, Alan. Just the plates.’
‘If I catch you with a fork in your hand…’
Jeff blinked again.
He knew his boys liked food – in all honesty, they’d probably inherited that from him – but this was his mother’s cooking they were talking about. And he’d been back for a good few weeks: if she’d learnt to cook, he thought he would’ve tasted the difference by now. Which begged the question why an argument seemed to be brewing over what, no doubt, was more “meatloaf surprise”.
‘Alright, have I missed something?’ He asked finally, knowing he had no chance of working this out alone.
‘Uh, yeah!’ Gordon cheered. ‘Ned, can cook.’
Well, that was another revelation he hadn’t been expecting, but it seemed to be something else his boys were accustomed to with the same ease as they were Ned being their gardener.
The man nodded, the pot plant swaying with the motion, still held tightly in his grasp. ‘I brought lasagna. It’s in the oven at the moment.’
‘Lasagna…’ Jeff muttered, feeling more like gravity had done a number on him in these last five minutes than in the five hours immediately after his first foot was back on solid earth.
‘Family favourite.’ Ned pointed out. ‘So I’m told.’
‘Right!’ Gordon cheered, ‘You can’t go wrong with lasagna.’
‘Unless it’s Grandma’s.’ Virgil added and Gordon’s nose scrunched up as the pair of them rose and followed Ned – and Gladys - towards the kitchen.
‘Should be ready about now.’ The gardener agreed as they headed for the stairs. ‘Oh, how’s Gloria and the family doing? Gladys has been wondering.’
‘Oh, they’re doing great!’ Gordon replied immediately, seeming to be well aware who this apparent “Gloria and family” were meant to be, ‘I’ve been following what you said about watering in tropical climates…’
Because that didn’t leave him with more questions than answers at all…
‘Come on dad,’ John encouraged, setting a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to the world of the lounge. ‘Scott and Alan shouldn’t be left in the kitchen alone.’
No, that much he did remember.
------
It was, several hours later, when Jeff was laying in bed that he remembered the pink geraniums in the garden.
But no, surely… maybe he had to consider that the boys had named them.
Yes, Gloria and family indeed.
Although, it was also as he lay there, contemplating sleep, that he had to agree with the boys. Ned could cook.
And it seemed his mother – “do call me Sally, Ned” – didn’t seem to mind being outdone for once.
------
Ned, and Gladys, were still on the island the following morning and serving breakfast he discovered!
And breakfast seemed to be a civilised affair for once with china teacups, and plates of assorted cakes. Well – civilised besides from Scott swatting at the hands of the youngest two every time they tried to reach for a cake, insisting they needed to finish their breakfast first.
Ned seemed to be most in synch with John, but he had his own way of interacting with each of the boys and Jeff was surprised to see someone from outside the family fitting in so well. The air of secrecy to their lives and of living so far out from civilisation were both his doing, and though his sons had never seemed to mind, he’d still had reservations over their schooling and whether they’d have the chance to make any solid friends in life like he had found in Lee and Casey. But it seemed after all this, those reservations had been needlessly placed, for every son was a graduate and seemed to have found their own friends.
(Even if that was a grown man and a pot plant).
Each son was also highly skilled at what they did in the rescue business, yet that one went without saying or concern after all they did for him, to bring him back.
They’d never given up.
And he couldn’t be prouder of them for that.
Now, it felt foreign to eat food without worry or horror for the second time in a row, and to wonder instead at the taste of it.
He learnt that Colonel Casey had brought Ned to the island with her, the boys quoting that it was best for keeping the island secret. He could agree there, but he wasn’t born yesterday and sensed there was something unsaid. It was – when they were finally on the cakes (to Alan and Gordon’s delight) that he got the rest of that story.
Ned was something of a “magnet for trouble”, Gordon had explained, to which Alan had merrily chipped in, “more so than me”!
After initially being hired by John it seemed and working on the garden for a while to turn it from a “jungle-lawn” into what it was today, Ned had made fortnightly, then monthly trips to the island to manage the upkeep of the garden. Scott had explained that if Colonel Casey wasn’t stopping by, he tended to pick Ned up.
‘Can’t the man get a plane?’ He’d asked, and that seemed to be his foolish mistake, but even Ned was laughing.
Scott was outraged, ‘Dad, you’ve got to be joking! International rescue would only be called out to it.’
‘Ned here has a loyalty badge.’ Gordon quipped, and it was then Jeff realised there was clearly a lot more to his son’s acquaintance with this man than he knew, what with so many stories on hold to be told in full.
‘We are sorry about that, aren’t we Gladys?’
Jeff wondered if the man was actually thinking the plant would reply when he left these pauses.
‘We know, Ned.’ John reassured.
‘Besides, it is our job.’ Virgil added.
‘And we haven’t rescued you since you went back to gardening!’
‘Don’t jinx it, Alan!’
‘I’m just saying Gordon–’
‘Well don’t!’ The four elders chorused and even Ned seemed to blanch at the thought.
‘Okay, okay!’ Alan insisted, ‘I’m just saying–’
‘More cake?’ Ned offered quickly, holding a plate of Battenburg round to Alan who took one immediately, previous thought track forgotten.
‘It’s nice of you to bring all this every time you visit, Ned.’ Virgil praised. Jeff wondered just how many visits there had been for this to seem as easy as daily routine to the boys.
‘Yeah,’ Scott agreed quickly. ‘It’s gets us away from the mercy of Grandma’s cooking.’
‘I heard that young man.’ It was Scott’s poor luck it seemed that the very woman was on her way past as he spoke. Jeff saw the way the eldest’s eyes rolled as the youngest pair sniggered.
‘Why is it always me!’
‘Why do you put yourself in that position, Scott?’ John questioned instead, and he wasn’t wrong. For though the eldest could keep himself out of trouble, Jeff remembered Scott had always had a tendency to accidentally fall into the mix. Just like now.
Ned chuckled. ‘Well, after all you’ve done for us, it’s the least we can do for you. Isn’t that right, Gladys?’
The plant didn’t answer. The plant wouldn’t answer! It was infuriating and Jeff was trying to mind his manners not to roll his eyes every time. It was true testament that his boys were used to this as not one of them seemed to blink at the plant being drawn into the folds of conversation. Maybe more concerning should have been that his son’s didn’t tend to speak in these immediate pauses either…
‘I’m just glad you’re not hiding it all away on Thunderbird Five.’ Gordon stated, taking two slices of cake from the proffered plate.
‘That was one time.’ John answered firmly as Ned set the plate down and rose with the kettle to refill their cups. Jeff noted that the man seemed to know exactly how his sons liked their relevant teas and coffees, moving round them and serving faultlessly.
‘Um, I count Two.’
‘They’re never letting you live it down, bro.’ Scott murmured.
‘Its’s a good thing Thunderbird Three was refuelled!’
‘It was a good thing you didn’t crash it in your rush, Alan.’ Virgil stated, bringing the volume of the younger right down as Scott’s eyes flicked over also.
‘You guys wanted cake too.’ Alan mumbled in a moan, arms folding over his chest in a – compared to what Jeff remembered of him – contained strop.
‘How is Gladys’ good friend?’ Ned asked finally and Jeff blinked, frowning. What friend could a pot plant possibly have?
‘EOS is good, thank you.’
John’s AI. Of course. That only made sense, the father supposed.
‘Gladys can’t wait to come back up. Try out our space legs again!’
Jeff wondered if he should be worried about the man going up to Thunderbird Five – given all the stories he’d half-heard about the boys rescuing him, but John didn’t seem bothered by the man inviting himself back (which wasn’t like the red head not to bat an eye at) – because without needing to be told, he could hear it wouldn’t be the first time.
‘EOS will be glad to have you. She’s got a timer set to remind me about the plants.’
‘I still can’t believe you’re managing to grow space flora.’ Scott muttered, his tone saying everything he thought about it.
‘You’re just annoyed they’ve proved you wrong.’
‘Of course I am, Virge! It’s space and flowers. When have those two ever gone together?’
‘Well–’
‘I don’t need the science again, John.’ Scott ceased the younger promptly. ‘It gave me a bad enough headache last time.’
Jeff saw the way John smirked and sneakily accepted the homemade ginger biscuits from Ned as the gardener set the kettle back and snuck behind the second child on the way to his own seat at the table where Gladys still rested on her pedestal. Hmm, yes, whether it was because John was responsible for getting Ned the job (as he’d learnt) or whatever connection the plant and the AI shared, it seemed certain that of all his sons, Ned and John had the strongest of friendship. Jeff was honestly just pleased to see John have a friend outside of the family.
‘It will be one of my great achievements.’ Ned cheered. ‘Me – first gardener in space!’
‘Don’t forget first gardener for International Rescue!’ Gordon chirped in, sounding equally as excited about it, and Alan was nodding around his mouthfuls of cake.
‘International Gardening Services!’
Jeff blinked, confused, but relieved that Ned didn’t seem to be trading under that name. His confusion was clearly noticed as the youngest pair chuckled, and Scott waved it off as another “tell you later”, along with the myriad of rescues they’d clearly undertaken for the man in the years he’d been gone. Gordon – of all the boys! – was adamant it was rude to retell the rescues whilst Ned was with them. Virgil had later suggested to him that what Gordon actually meant was that it would be rude to retell them as they’d come to remember them. Jeff could only imagine what chaos they meant had been ensuing whilst he lived in another galaxy.
‘I am most thankful to you boys for the job.’
‘We’re thankful you took it.’ Virgil replied, and Gordon was all sniggers again.
‘Yeah, before any more plant murders happened.’
‘There could still be one Gordon.’ Scott seethed, but Ned carried on like the argument wasn’t occurring – as was most uncivilised – across the table between his two boys.
‘Oh, it’s been an absolute honour–’
If he spoke to the plant–
‘– Isn’t that right, Gladys?’
–that was it!
------
Jeff was surprised – though relieved - they’d managed to go without receiving a rescue call for the duration of Ned’s stay so far. It wasn’t so much the man knowing their secrets that concerned him at this stage. It was rather the fact that it was nice to see his boys being boys. Well – men for the elder half, but still. These were sights he’d missed for too long, and he’d happily be greedy for once in his life and soak them in as easily as Gordon did the sun when sat by the poolside.
After Scott and Gordon’s argument had been peace kept by John, the eldest had snuck off, insisting he needed to check all the maintenance was done on Thunderbird One, just in case of a call and Gordon had insisted it was time he went for a swim anyway.
“With the amount of cake you’ve eaten, yeah,” Alan had cajoled and Gordon had thrown a tea towel at the younger as he went by, causing the blonde to race after him. John and Ned had headed up to the lounge. John was itching to check in with EOS and make sure everything was okay, and Ned had decided to tag along because “Gladys would love a chance to say hello, wouldn’t you, Gladys?”. And just like that, he and Virgil were left in the quiet of the kitchen, and “with all the dishes too!” as Virgil had pointed out, his very tone sounding wronged.
 A few hours passed before they were all back together. Ned had been waylaid a little while by his mother insisting upon catching up with him also. Jeff soon realised their heading was the kitchen and that gave him some hope that dinner tonight could be edible also, especially when Ned came back with the idea that they would be eating fish pie – which his sons reassured him Grandma didn’t tend to cook.
By then tensions between Scott and Gordon seemed to have defused somewhat and Jeff was ready to be able to tour the gardens with them in peace.
The boys were pleased to show it off to him now, pointing out the places that had been remodelled and anything they’d done to assist. Virgil had drawn up a lot of the plans it seemed with John in charge of the calculations. Scott, Gordon and Alan had ended up on the supply runs, and Ned had done all the real work in telling them what to buy and what would or wouldn’t be plausible.
‘There were many options once I cleared away the jungle, Mr Tracy.’ Ned finally finished the explanation.
‘Was it that bad?’ He asked.
John shrugged. ‘We never took a photo.’
‘I knew we should have!’ Alan moaned.
‘There was nothing photo-worthy.’ Was Virgil’s returning argument.
‘It would have been interesting to look back on.’ Scott mused.
‘What? The results of your murder scene?’
‘Gordon I am serious about the Geraniums!’
‘You leave Gloria, Gillian, Giles, Gerry and Ted alone!’
Yes, Gordon was indeed pointing to the rockery family of pink geraniums, where the potted Gladys was also currently residing. Somehow, it didn’t surprise Jeff that Gordon was the one with the attachment.
‘Scott.’ John cautioned.
‘What? I didn’t start it!’
‘But you don’t have to antagonise him.’
‘Dad, you have to see what we did with the stairway!’ Virgil interrupted, latching onto him and dragging him forward.
‘Mine is the best!’
‘Shh Alan! Don’t ruin the surprise for him.’
‘It is very good, Mr Tracy.’ Ned insisted. The man had finally stopped trying to call him sir, but the formality of the address still hadn’t changed.
‘Oh boy, here we go.’ He heard Scott mutter from behind them as John and Gordon followed along. He noticed that unlike talking about the pond and the geraniums (as the youngest pair had happily done), that this interest seemed to be primarily Virgil’s and it made him wonder what they could be going to look at besides a set of stone stairs. Not that he wanted to say that when the excitement was so palpably felt by his sons and the gardener.
The boys led him to the end of the stone pathway within the garden lawn and towards the stairs on the far side and through the trees that obscured the staircase. And ready as he had been to see this “grand feature”, he’d truly not expected it to be… well, topiary.
And not the topiary you would expect to find in the average garden, he was sure.
It left him more than a little speechless.
Following the stairs up, rows of trees has been planted on each side and, in matching sets, topiaries of the Thunderbirds cut: Thunderbird One all the way up to Thunderbird Five up towards the top of the stairs.
Jeff blinked again but the sight didn’t change.
No, he was actually looking at what he thought he was.
Goodness help him.
‘What do you think, father?’ Virgil asked, face full of glee. ‘I made the Thunderbird Two’s.’
‘They’re very good son.’
‘We each made our own Thunderbirds!’
‘They’re all good, Gordon.’
‘But what if you had to pick a favourite, dad?’
‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly, Alan.’
‘Ned helped. He taught us how to make the shapes.’
‘Virge, you had a head start.’ Gordon grumbled.
‘I learnt nothing from that gardener like I learnt from Ned!’
‘Doesn’t change the fact you made a Thunderbird Two topiary before.’
‘It was smaller than this!’
‘It was still topiary.’
‘Yeah, and I still haven’t forgiven you for–’
‘Is this another long story?’ Jeff muttered to John beside him, for he was the only one (besides Ned) still close enough and of who would avoid the non-sensical answer: for Ned seemed to be torn between laughing and shaking his head, his arms folded as he looked on; Alan was lost to fits of giggles; and Scott had tried to intervene before it became a “scrap” only for Virgil to accuse “you’re just as much to blame!”. To which Scott had retorted, “What did I do? Gordon was driving”. Which had been promptly and unhelpfully followed with “you two always were Parker’s worst students”. And Jeff didn’t think much of anything had been avoided.
‘Yeah dad, it’s a long story about the topiary.’ John answered, ‘Although, the way this is looking, I may have time to tell you.’
‘I’ll save your brothers then shall I, and you can tell me later over cocoa?’
‘I’ll hold you to that, dad.’
Jeff nodded, looking forward to another late evening with the second child. It would remind him of when they used to stargaze together. But first, he was going to be reminded of the days his son’s squabbles were still for dad to resolve.
‘Alright boys, settle down. I don’t need any more “long stories” to add to the list.’
16 notes · View notes
sethizah · 11 months
Text
I know I should be writing the final chapters of In Ashes, but this story here was just begging to be updated. It will have two parts, this is the first part. Hope you like it!
5 notes · View notes
gumnut-logic · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
It wasn’t often that the Tracys got together as a family. Sure, they lived on an island together, saw each other every day and even worked together. But there was a big difference between sharing a room versus sharing an event.
This time around, it wasn’t a special day or anything in particular, but Gordon had decided that the family needed some down time, had sweet talked Grandma who had the power to make it happen and International Rescue had been shut down for an evening.
John was dragged down from orbit a few days earlier so he could actually walk without his gravity assistance. When he complained, Grandma tore him a new one.
He didn’t comment after that, though Gordon swore he heard Eos laughing at him at one point.
Gordon thought it would be somewhat scary to have an AI laughing at you, but John just rolled his eyes and glared laser beams at his fish brother when he realised he was watching.
Johnny was such a soft target, but his revenge was lethal.
Gordon decided on a hasty retreat.
It was a simple barbecue on the beach down by one of the huts. A chance to laze on the sand, chat and just be family.
Now that Dad was home, their family was almost whole.
There would be no daring, to-the-ends-of-the-solar-system rescue for their mother. It just wasn’t something they could fix, so technically they would never be entirely whole again, but things were what they were and Gordon preferred to think positive.
The alternative sucked.
So, barbecue on the beach. Barbecue usually meant Virgil was cooking, but Two had been called out on a rescue just after lunch and that was following the one before lunch and the one after breakfast.
Scott had gone with Virg earlier and Gordon even earlier, but the second eldest waved him away on the third. It was a simple one. He would be back in time to turn the burgers.
He wasn’t.
It was left to John to fend off both Scott and Grandma, as neither were allowed near the barbecue. And while John was a bit more of a connoisseur than Virgil with his burgers perfected rather than barbecued, he still managed a great steak.
Whereas Scott would burn it.
Alan wasn’t allowed near the food otherwise no one else would get any.
Gordon did the salads. He was one to do things to carrots that no one else would think of. Even Virgil admired his radish roses and the salad dressings he created. Kayo sometimes helped him and today was one of those days.
Scott was usually tasked with furniture set up, but today he was hovering in the comms room keeping an eye on Virgil.
After all, three rescues in one day was a hefty workload.
And Dad? Well, Scott got his worry wart genes from somewhere.
“Is he on his way back?” Gordon strode into the comms room to find his father seated at his desk and Scott hovering like a lost soul, both staring at the holoprojector and a hologram of what was obviously Two’s external camera. Virgil was wearing his exo-suit and hauling several large containers onto his ‘bird.
He looked tired.
Gordon frowned. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine, Gordon. Packing up now.” It was still weird when Dad answered a question like that and not Scott.
Especially when there was a furrow on his eldest brother’s forehead.
Dad noticed Gordon’s gaze and looked over at Scott. “He’s fine, son. You worry too much.” Their father swiped at a secondary hologram on the desk, pushed his chair back and stood up. His cane rattled against the chair as he grabbed it to make his way over to Scott.
Who was still frowning. “Sorry, Dad. Just three in a row. He’s supposed to be home.”
“It’s the nature of the business.”
Scott looked at his father as if to say ‘Really?’
Dad cleared his throat. “Hmm, you have a point.” He straightened. “But we have to trust Virgil when he says he is okay.”
Scott’s grunt was non-committal.
Dad dropped a hand onto Scott’s shoulder. “He’s coming home and he’s staying home.”
Scott continued to stare at the hologram of his brother in the centre of the room. It was obvious Scott obviously wanted to skip all that and just have Virgil safe on the Island.
Scott wasn’t very good at waiting.
“Hey, Scotty, can you help Alan with the table?” At least it would have his brother doing something for a few minutes. By then Virgil would be in the air and on his way home.
“Sure.” But it was distracted and those eyes still hadn’t left the hologram.
As if on cue there was the sound of breaking glass and a number of rather offensive words from the kitchen.
As Scott moved almost as fast as his ‘bird, Gordon bit his lip and secretly applauded Kayo’s back up plan.
It worked. By the time Scott felt secure enough to let Kayo loose in the kitchen by herself again – Gordon swore she play acted the scene, any other time a brother would be dead for questioning her capabilities – Thunderbird Two could be heard on approach and all that was left to do was for Scott to run down to the hangars to check on his brother in person.
It was worth the milk jug and the clean-up.
As expected, Virgil was fine. A little tired, yes, but functional and looking forward to the evening on the beach.
He cleaned himself up, donned his flannel civvies and wandered down to the beach.
There was much discussion between John and the tired engineer about burgers until Gordon rounded up Virgil and set him doing fancy things with paper napkins.
If they ended up with fifty swans, twenty parakeets and forty-odd doves, he didn’t care. It was obvious Virgil was beat, running on a post rescue high and just needed something to do. The fact he was somewhat of an origami addict just worked in Gordon’s favour.
It also helped that Grandma sat with Virgil to keep him company.
Dinner was cooked and served. There was a bounty of food. If Gordon knew one thing it was that the key to a good get together was food and lots of it.
John’s steaks and burgers were divine as always, though lacking the char Virgil usually gave them. Gordon had a second helping, regardless.
Scott was still keeping an eye on Virgil, but their engineer brother seemed fine, stuffing food in his face at his usual muscle building rate.
Gordon kept an eye on Scott, noting that the eldest couldn’t seem to drop his concern.
Gordon toyed with the idea of asking Grandma to stall IR for the next day as well. The eldest two could do with a day off, obviously.
He’d talk to her later.
Dessert was an ice cream concoction with just enough alcohol and fruit in it to tickle the senses, topped with a crisp meringue. Basically, it was enough sugar to fuel a Thunderbird.
Which it did. All five brothers definitely appeared brighter after the meal and it was Scott of all people who suggested they go for a swim.
Gordon could never say no to that.
Private islands had their uses and the beach hut had change rooms and supplies for exactly this reason. Hiking all the way up the hill to the villa was not needed. Even Grandma had her own stash of swimwear down here and it was with some vivacity that the family descended on the hut and shed their clothing.
Except for Gordon who had come fully prepared because he was Gordon and there was a beach involved. So, it was with some amusement that he volunteered to tidy up the table while everyone changed clothes.
Scott stared at him for a full ten seconds obviously wondering if he needed to fetch a medical scanner.
Gordon just poked out his tongue and started collecting plates.
Their father had spent a great deal of time in the water since he had returned. Gordon actually enjoyed that fact. It gave him the opportunity to spend time with a man who had not only been missing for eight years, but prior to that had been mostly too busy to take a swim with his son.
There had been talks. Lots of talks. Even a few fragile moments.
The water gave his dad physical support that was sorely needed. John was known to take to the pool or the ocean for the same reason. Alan not so much. The baby of the family was not a water one. He enjoyed it, but his preferred environment involved rocket fuel and orbital stats.
Ultimately all the Tracys liked a fun dip in their private lagoon. Though, if he was honest, Gordon wondered if his brothers would be so eager to stick their toes in the water if they knew of the visitors the caldera sometimes received. He smirked to himself as Alan emerged from the hut, ran yelling down the slope, and barrelled into the water.
Gordon grinned. They weren’t dumb, but the aquanaut had installed certain sensors in the lagoon for a reason. It was his job to protect his family in the ocean, after all.
Scott wandered down the slope at an easier pace. He was wearing blue board shorts and displaying far more tanned skin than most of them.
John didn’t even bother and left his t-shirt on. Obviously taking no chances even though the sun was almost setting. His arms and legs still glowed and Gordon was hard put not to poke fun.
His astronaut brother must have picked up the vibes because he glared as he stalked past.
Grandma stepped down lightly beside their father, both wearing shirts. Dad had unspoken issues about the condition of his body and Grandma claimed that she couldn’t compete with the GQ covers surrounding her.
As far as he was concerned, Gordon was just happy they were there and having fun.
Because they were.
Grandma helped their dad onto the beach and then took a running jump into the water, her strong stroke chasing the eldest out into the lagoon.
It was Kayo who stopped at the edge with their father. Beaches were notorious for transmitting sound and, as he gathered dishes, Gordon could hear her soft voice even at this distance.
She was speaking Malay ever so quietly.
His father replied in the same.
Surprised Gordon couldn’t help glancing in their direction. She was looking up at his father with an expression of such gentleness, her hand on his arm. Gordon’s heart swelled and he looked away. He knew his sister had always been close with their father, but she was usually far from demonstrative. Tin’s early life had done so much to shape who she was today.
Gordon had a hate for her uncle that reached far beyond his own personal injury.
He finished stacking the picnic crockery and cutlery to the tune of the playful sounds in the bay. A quick wash of his hands in rainwater and he turned to face the lagoon.
His father was floating beside Tin and they were obviously having a private conversation. Scott, Alan, John and Grandma were apparently having a race. Gordon stared at that activity for a full moment, noting stroke strength and style. As always, Grandma was the most efficient, but the two older brothers outpaced her simply on strength and youth. Alan’s heart didn’t seem to be in it at all, but then Allie was secretly a softie when it came to Grandma and was probably losing on purpose.
He shared that with Virgil but for entirely different reasons. Virgil looked after Grandma. Grandma looked after Allie and was really the only maternal parent his little brother knew.
Not that he would ever admit any of it. Virgil was obvious. Alan was still far too teenager to admit to anything.
Gordon frowned. Speaking of Virgil, where the hell was the big softie?
Gordon’s eyes tracked over the water. What the hell? There was no sign of him.
He had come down, hadn’t he?
Gordon spun on the spot, hackles rising, eyes scanning the beach, the trail and the hut.
He thumbed his collar. “Eos, do you have a location on Virgil?”
“Hello, Gordon. Virgil is in Beach Hut Number Seven. His comms have been removed from his body and hence security-disabled. I really wish you and your brothers wouldn’t do that. It is disconcerting.”
Gordon didn’t acknowledge the AI, instead darting up the path to the hut.
As with everything on Tracy Island, the rustic little structure was more than it seemed. Security sensors recognised him as he touched the door and allowed him entrance. He swung it open and entered what equated to a mixture of storage facility and functional outpost. From here, any member of the family could get to the hangars fast via a hidden monorail system underground. It was one of several collection points dotted around the Island for sudden callouts.
But it also doubled as short-term shelter and basically a place to stash stuff. From swimwear to water sports equipment to art materials, the not so little huts held all sorts of things.
But the one thing Gordon was looking for was a heavy lifting brother.
He poked through the change cubicles. “Virgil?” It was quiet except for the sounds of the breeze and the ocean in the distance echoing through the still open door.
And the soft sound of snoring.
Really?
He found the last cubicle locked and had to jimmy the door to get it open.
Each change cubicle contained a bench and that is where his found his big brother.
Virgil had somehow managed to curl up on the far too small ledge and was fast asleep.
Gordon let out a sigh of relief suddenly realising exactly how worried he had actually been at his brother’s sudden absence.
The sigh fast turned into a fond smile as the worry slipped away. Not only was Virgil asleep in an odd spot, but he appeared to have fallen into slumber while undressing. His boots lay discarded to one side and his flannel shirt hung from a hook along with his grey t-shirt. But his jeans were still half on, down around his knees. It was almost as if he had sat down to remove them and tipped sideways on the bench, curling up against the wall half naked.
Gordon’s smile turned into a frown.
It would have been prime humour material involving photographs and eternal ribbing if it wasn’t for one factor.
Bruises.
His brother had a number of them down one side. What the hell?
Gordon stepped closer. None looked serious by themselves, but there were enough to suggest Virgil had taken a fall of some kind earlier in the day. An unreported fall. Gordon bit his lip. Unless…
A clatter of wet feet and Scott was suddenly there beside him, dripping on the floor. “What happened?”
Gordon shrugged. “Looks like he fell asleep while getting undressed.” He eyed his brother. “Did he report a fall?”
Scott took a step closer, staring at the bruises on Virgil’s torso. “Yes, but none of this.” A frustrated breath. “Hell, Virg.”
As if responding to his name, Virgil snorted in his sleep and tried to roll over.
And promptly fell off the bench.
Both Scott and Gordon lunged in to catch him, awkwardly scooping up limbs and important body parts, desperate to stop him from hitting the concrete. The man did not need any more contusions.
All three ended up on the floor. And while Virgil hadn’t acquired any more bruising, Gordon’s knees certainly had and there was a definite elbow to his collar bone that was likely to sprout something a little purple at least.
“Virg, wake up.” Scott’s voice was definitely in commander mode, but still soft with that brotherly worry that seemed to be ingrained in his personality.
Another snort and dopey brown eyes opened. There was little behind them for a full moment as they stared up at Scott who was still holding his brother against his chest.
Virgil blinked as water dripped on him. “Wha-?”
“You fell asleep, bro. In your underwear.”
“Wha’ the hell? Ugh, you’re all wet.” Virgil struggled to sit up. Both Scott and Gordon sat back and let their brother right himself.
Sitting up, Virgil let his back fall against the bench and sighed. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit, sorry.”
Gordon could hear the creak of his eldest brother’s frown beside him. “And so you should be. What is this?” Scott pointed at the bruises decorating Virgil’s right side.
The engineer blinked and looked down at himself. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh. Why weren’t they reported?”
An arched eyebrow as Virgil looked back up at his brother. “They’re just bruises. It was a busy day.” Those brown eyes latched onto Scott. “I’m okay.”
“You fell asleep while changing your clothes.”
Virgil rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’m a little tired.” But then his eyes turned to Gordon. “I just didn’t want to miss out on the party.”
Gordon’s heart twitched at the honesty in those eyes. “You idiot. We could have done it tomorrow.”
Virgil looked down at his feet. “Probably would have been called out again.”
Gordon huffed. “No, Virgil, because tomorrow is a day off.”
It was Gordon’s turn to be frowned at by Scott, but the aquanaut was having none of it. He held up a hand. “No, Scott, was thinking it would be a good idea earlier and now it is certain. I’m speaking to Grandma.” He pursed his lips. “Or I can skip that step and just convince you here and now while dopey here has his purple decorations on display.”
“Hey!” Virgil got his frown on, but Gordon ignored him, keeping his own determination targeted on Scott.
Defiant blue flared for all of a second before looking down. Scott hated taking International Rescue offline. Gordon understood why and agreed, but there were limits.
Gordon reached out and gripped his big brother’s arm gently. “You need the time off, bro. You’re exhausted as much as dopey here.”
Blue eyes caught his for a moment and Gordon could see the decision being made behind them.
Quiet. “Okay.”
Gordon smiled just a little and squeezed that arm.
“What are you guys doing?” Alan, followed by John poked their heads in the door. “Kayo beat John by a – whoa, Virg, what the hell happened to you?”
Virgil didn’t quite roll his eyes, but he did push himself to his feet. “Work, okay?”
Several sets of eyes landed on Scott expecting a follow up on that statement.
The commander sighed and stood up. “John, can you please notify the GDF that International Rescue will be unavailable for another day at least.”
The space monitor nodded as sharply as usual, despite the fact his hair had obviously been hurriedly scrubbed with a towel and was sticking up in all directions. “FAB.” He slipped out of the room.
Alan was still staring at Virgil.
Another sigh. “Guys, can I finish getting dressed?”
Scott pointed at his brother. “You are going back to the villa to get some shuteye.”
“No, I’d like to go for a swim first and cool down.”
For a moment there, Gordon’s two eldest brothers glared at each other, neither willing to give in.
Virgil’s frown looked to crawl off his face and throttle Scott. “It’s only bruises. A swim, a shower and bed, I promise.”
Scott sighed. “Fine.” His lips twitched a little smugly. “Good luck explaining that lot to Dad and Grandma.” He turned and stalked out of the cubicle, herding Alan with him.
Virgil sagged and sat down with a groan.
He looked so dejected, Gordon felt sorry for him. “Hey, bro. Wear a t-shirt and they will never know.”
His brother grunted and started pulling off his jeans. A sigh. “Thanks, Gords.”
“Not a problem. Gotta look after my wingman after all.” He furnished that statement with a grin.
Virgil arched an eyebrow up at him, but Gordon could see the smile building behind his eyes.
“Go. Get. Let me get dressed.”
“Don’t fall asleep.”
“Get out.”
Gordon cackled and waltzed out of the cubicle.
He didn’t go far. He stopped just outside the beach hut and waited for his brother to finish up. The sun was fast approaching the horizon and everything was a wonderful gold colour.
Down on the beach, Scott was speaking with their father, no doubt reporting the situation. Gordon held back a sigh. Virg was likely in for it despite the t-shirt.
There was more than one way to give a guy a break, for goodness sake.
Dad looked up the hill at Gordon and caught his eyes.
Gordon gave him a mock salute.
If he had to run interference for Virgil, so be it. After all, he meant it when he said he had to look after his ‘wingman’.
Gordon rolled his shoulders and grinned at Scott as his brother looked up frowning.
His wingman needed a break.
So, Gordon would give him one.
-o-o-o-
25 notes · View notes
squiddokiddo · 1 year
Text
Heyo Thunderfam, I had an idea for an interesting experiment.
Tell me your favourite Tracy Bro and your sibling status in your family: oldest, middle, baby, only child ect.
I'll go first: My favourite bro is Gordon and I'm the baby sibling.
84 notes · View notes