#rustwrites

[mason-rust]

Christmas Blaze - Secret Santa

Merry Christmas @writerdarkflamespyre! Sorry it’s so delayed, this ended up much longer than I intended it to be. In the spirit of Christmas traditions, I went with an Australian summer staple, the bush fire. CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE. 

The Tracy family Christmas tree was a digital affair, cast above the living room table in green and tinseled glory. Virgil leant against the wall and, like every year, couldn’t help but notice that the computer generated fir needles were perfectly symmetrical. He had never commented on it because it didn’t seem to bother anyone else. John had whipped it up with Alan’s help, and between jobs had been glowing softly for the last month. Despite how it always disappointed Virgil with its regularity, the glow was a comforting one. Pushing off the wall, Virgil wandered through the dark room, until he was close enough to run his hand through the branches made of light. He stood there, feeling the light start to hurt his eyes and waiting for whatever had driven him out of bed at the devils hour to pass so he could go back to bed. Virgil walked around the tree a couple of times, but it lingered like a mouse scratching in the back of his head. Over the last few years it had become impossible to tell whether it was the professional mouse or the paranoid mouse. Eyes smarting from the bright tree in the dark room, Virgil turned away and started off towards his room, deciding that it was simply restlessness. He was almost at the door when the alert rang through the room, making him wince. It was the professional mouse after all.

The holiday period always had lots of work – usually stupid mistakes that led to hot air balloon disasters; capsized rowboats and all manner of holiday-related incidents. But it was the big ones that needed to be watched, and this one was a big one indeed. Virgil could feel it. Natural disasters that struck near Christmas promised mess: everyone in their homes, everyone at risk. He pulled up John, the Christmas tree dissolving into his brothers features, for a second making John look like a kind of demented Christmas spirit. Before John could even open his mouth, Scott barreled into the room, fully dressed. “What's the situation John?” “There's huge forest fire in the works, moving towards settlements. It's currently burning its way through the Blue Mountains, just outside Sydney.” “Severity?” “Extreme. Local authorities were handling it, but sudden warm winds have blown it out of control. They need us to try and stop it from reaching any populated areas.” “How fast?” “Get going.” Virgil didn't even have time to shiver as he sprinted towards the chute. Somewhere in the back of his head, he heard Scott shouting for Gordon to join Virgil in the ship. Then the painting turned and all he could hear was the whirring of machines and the rush of air.

His land in the cockpit seemed to rattle all the way through his bones, and Virgil noted that he was just a little too tired for this. Not enough to jeopardise anyone's safety but enough to watch. He was already strapped in by the time Gordon appeared, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes but clearly wide awake. “What's the plan.” “Usual. We'll take a dip and dump. If we need to do evac, the authorities will contact us but Scott will take care of most of it.” “Cool.” Gordon strapped in and Virgil initiated the launch sequence. Somehow it went both too fast and not fast enough. A fire right before Christmas was always a bad sign. Once Two was in the air, Virgil punched in the coordinates. The fire was in the Blue Mountains and was hardly the first one they’d helped out with in the area. “Australia again?” “It is a forest fire, and they’ve got an awful lot of forest.” “Awful lot’a bush you mean.” “That’s a terrible accent Gordon.” “Wanna hear my Russian?” “No.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Gordon treated Virgil to the accent anyway, and he couldn’t help but wonder where the hell Gordon had found his energy. Maybe, a little voice parroted at the back of his head, it’s because he sleeps. Virgil told it to shut up. “Hey Virgil, were you and Scott already up?” “I was. He seemed to be.” “I swear man, your sixth sense is freaky. You’re always up right before a big one.” “So is Scott.” “Yeah, but that's because he’s never down.” He couldn’t think of something to respond with, and the cabin fell silent but for the humming of the engines. “Hey Virgil, Why did the manager hire the marsupial?” Virgil cast his eyes to the heavens and offered a brief prayer. When he did speak he ground it out between his teeth. “Why?” “Because he was koala-fied. Get it?” “I’m not even going to respond to that.” “Hey Virgil, what music do kangaroos listen to?” “Do you just have a mental list of these for every country we go for?” “Yup. Imagine what I’d be capable of if I turned that to better uses.” “I tremble in fear.” “By the way, what music do kangaroos listen to?” “Just, please be quiet.”

They were almost at the destination, and Gordon had just run out of jokes when the communication line opened and John’s voice filled the cockpit. "Thunderbird 2? "Almost there John. Any evac? "Scott's handling that. I've entered the coordinates for the most pressing fire zones. "I'm inputting them into the system now The ships computer beeped to notify Virgil that the coordinates had been accepted. Virgil pulled them up and set off.

Forest fires were as terrifying as they were beautiful. It was a wild, dangerous kind of beauty, only from a distance. As the ship drew closer Virgil could see the fire shooting up the branches, devouring tree after tree faster than could almost be imagined. Sealed inside the cockpit of TB2, Virgil couldn't actually feel the heat on his skin, but he could imagine it. It wasn't the first time they'd been in fires, but this one certainly was looking like one of the largest. "I'm going to patch you through to the head firefighter, Thunderbird 2.” "Copy Thunderbird 5.” "International Rescue this is Jacob McCawley.” "Tell us where you need us Jacob.” "This is one bloody big bushfire. Our copters are doing their best but they need extinguishing help. There also needs to be some emergency evac." "That's me Jacob, Thunderbird 2 will pick up any extinguishing slack.” Scott's voice rang through the comm line, short and professional. Virgil started to peel away towards one of the nastier sections of fire. It was going to be a long, long night.

Virgil was on his 8th trip back from the water, 2 almost at its load capacity for water. They were making progress, but it was slow going. “Almost done there Scott?” “Still picking up some life signs, but at least people evacuate here. Remember California last year?” “I prefer not to. Hurry it up, John said that the wind’s picking up. Keep an open channel.” “FAB. I’ve got what looks like someone in a basement. Entering the dwelling now.” Virgil pulled Two around, one ear on Scott, the other listening to Jacob coordinate the fire-fighters. “God it’s smoky in here. I’m trying to find my way into the basement. John, scan the build-“ “Already done. The entrance is through the second door on your nine. Watch yourself Scott, you’ve got about 10 minutes before that fire overwhelms your location.” “I can feel that John.” Virgil started back towards the water when he heard an alarm through the comm channel. He instantly ran a scan of his systems, which came up blank. Before Virgil had the chance to ask John what was up, John was already speaking. “Scott, that fires right on top of you, get out now.” If you didn’t know John, then he would have sounded the same as he always did. But Virgil did, and he could hear the tension underlying the calm tone. “I’m aware of that John, but I can’t find anyone. Run the scans.” “It’s getting too hot, I can’t pick anything up.” “Maybe it never picked anything up.” Gordon frowned at the comms and Virgil couldn’t help but silently agree with his concern. He joined the conversation. “Just get out of there.” “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. John, that fires right on top of me, I’m going to have to stay in the house.” Adrenaline flooded Virgil’s system at those words. Despite his heart rate going through the roof, he somehow lost his voice as he listened to Scott and John. “Scott are you-“ “Yes, I’m sure, dammit.” “Stay away from the windows. If the heat gets too much-“ “Get outside into an area that’s already burnt. I know John.” Virgil desperately wanted to turn off the channel, his hands paralysed at the controls when they should be moving. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes for a moment before trying to banish the line to the corner of his mind. Instead Virgil put two back into motion and went back towards the fire.

Each minute was agony, the seconds ticking by as Virgil tried to ignore them and focus on his job. He knew that the front would probably pass in 15 minutes, and then Scott might be alright. If the heat hadn’t gotten to him. Another five minutes down, then there was a yelp through the channel. “Shit.” “Scott-“ He cut Virgil off before he even started speaking. “The fucking windows are gone. I’ve got embers inside the house.” “Scott get out of there.” “I’m trying, but I can’t fucking see anything.” There was a long pause on the line and more than one bang, probably as Scott walked into furniture. Virgil could hear the whine of wood and the rush of fire. “I’m outside, taking shelter, most of the front seems-“ The crack was explosively loud, and the silence that followed oppressively silent. “Scott?” Hissing filled the channel and Virgil resisted the urge to swing Thunderbird two around before he dumped his water. “Scott, come in.” If there was one sound that haunted Virgil, it was the sound of radio silence. He heard it in his nightmares, the vacuum of silence swallowing him up. Taking a breath deep into his lungs, Virgil opened his channel. “Scott, come in.” His voice sounded different to John’s, the carefully cultivated calm only a thin veneer over the panic in his chest. “Vitals aren’t showing, but that’s mechanical.” John’s voice was almost as mechanical as the read outs behind him. “John, keep trying to get him on the line. I’m going over.” “FAB.” Another counted breath, 3 in and 3 hold and 3 out, Virgil squashed the panic up into a box and went to work.

On the black soot and among the charcoaled wood, the blue of Scott’s uniform stood out like a torch. “It looks like he’s trapped John, not moving.” “Probably unconscious.” That or the other thing that Virgil knew he shouldn’t be thinking about. He pulled Two into hover, the fire front having pulled away. The trees were smoking, the air thick and almost tangible. Virgil could almost taste the smoke in his mouth, and he stood up from the controls. “Gordon, I’ll take the jaws down and pry him out. You’re in control.” “Oh yeah.” Virgil chose to ignore the edge underneath the humour, tucking it away at the back of his head for a later conversation. “Don’t break it Gordon.” “Don’t count on it Virgil. Off you go now.” “You’ve made me feel nervous Gordon.” “Shoo shoo.” But it had also made him feel slightly more relaxed. There was nothing like stress and nervousness to make a mission go haywire. Virgil headed down to the POD bay, grabbing the jaws as he did. Gordon’s voice over the comms was forcibly chipper. “Ready for deployment Virgil?” “FAB.”

Thanks to the whipping wind, the smoke was slightly clearer than it could have been after a fire. Virgil could feel the heat through his suit and, despite his helmet, his eyes smarted at the memory of smoke. The brown, singed grass crunched under his feet, and the black, scorched trees loomed over and around him. If he didn’t know better, Virgil would swear that it felt like they were watching him. He made his way towards the house. “Structure seems intact John. Looks like the verandah collapsed.” It had been wood, the verandah, and it hadn’t survived the flames. “I have a visual on Scott.” Virgil paced closer, carefully circling the broken beams. Scott was face down, not moving, with a support beam crossing his body. In a different place, it would have looked like he was sleeping, the beam just resting across him instead of crushing him. And Virgil had no doubt that it was crushing him. He started forwards, moving some of the smaller pieces out of his way, a piece of fence, a piece of the deck. Merely kindling for the fire. “John, are you reading any injuries?” There was a scene in the back of Virgil’s head, after an earthquake in Japan. A man lying under the concrete, limbs splayed to the sides.   “I’ve got nothing on him. The heat must have fried his suit.” “Or the wood crushed it.” “Either way, be careful when you try and free him.” “I know.” When the concrete was lifted, the man had coughed, blood splattering across his chin. Virgil didn’t know if he died from the pieces of metal embedded in him. That part was out of their control, the bit afterwards. The clean-up. He shook the memory out from behind his eyes and pulled away another few pieces. There was just the large one, just the one that was the problem. Sometimes, the pressure didn’t kill them but the removal did. Virgil tested the beam, lifting it slightly to test its weight. It wasn’t too heavy, and Virgil kept a grip on it. For a moment, he considered asking John if he should do it, abdicate the decision. Shifting, he lifted it slightly more, and it came away easily. Scott groaned, shifting in the rubble. Virgil lifted the piece and moved it to the side just enough to see Scott fully. There was blood on the blue fabric, and Virgil moved over as quickly as he could. He wanted to turn Scott over, to shake him until he opened his eyes but instead he found his wrist and waited for a pulse. Still trying to breathe carefully, he moved his fingers around until he felt up. “I have a pulse.” There was an almost audible release over the comm line, and Virgil could imagine the expression on John’s face. Gordon laughed. “Tough fucker.” “Language.” John’s voice lacked any edge that might have given the command some weight. “Yes mum.” “I’m going to get Scott into 2. How are the fires going John?” “There’s still more to be done, but let’s see what Scott’s condition is.” “FAB.” There was a click as John dropped his channel and Gordon’s voice chirped over the line. “Anything you need Virgil?” “I’m going to steady him, and be ready to receive us.” It was an arduous process, trying to keep Scott’s neck and head straight while manhandling him onto the stretcher. Thankfully the thing had wheels because one person was not enough to move it where Gordon could retrieve it. As Virgil stood next to the stretcher, he looked up into the sky. He had barely noticed that the sun had risen, that the night had bled into day. It wasn’t a surprise, given that the smoke was so thick that the sun stared down like a large red eye. Virgil suppressed a shiver, something about the red ball and the looming, bare black trees more menacing than it had a right to be. He wasn’t a superstitious person, but somewhere deep inside his chest, Virgil hoped that it wasn’t an omen.

There was a long crack in the helmet, and Virgil carefully pulled it off, making sure Scott’s neck was straight. He patted down the sides, making sure that everything seemed in place. The blood was concerning, but there wasn’t a huge amount of it, and it didn’t seem to be growing. Virgil grabbed a pair of scissors and cut away the ruined uniform, careful not to pull it away to sharply. The cuts were relatively minor, and Vigil tidied them up as quickly as he could. Broken ribs were likely, and Virgil grabbed the scanner to make sure there was nothing poking into a lung. The scan came up clear, thankfully the ribs were more fractured than broken. There was nothing more unpleasant than very broken ribs, something Virgil could definitely attest to. Carefully swabbing everything up, Virgil tried not to fuss more than necessary. The main issue was only going to become apparent when Scott woke up, and that was a wait that Virgil was not looking forward to. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to Scott, staring through his brother. There was tiredness pushing at the inside of his eyelids, and suddenly Virgil felt every ache and pain in his body. He was exhausted, muscles and bones aching. Virgil had to chuckle to himself at the thoughts in his head, thoughts that belonged to someone at least 30. Wiping a hand down his face, Virgil leant over and opened the comms. “Gordon?” “How’s he going Virge?” Virgil almost felt like he needed to lie down thanks to Gordon’s driving, but he didn’t say anything. That was for later. “He’ll be fine, but won’t be too happy when he wakes up. Broken ribs, lacerations, smoke inhalation, plenty of bruising but nothing too serious.” “Great. I bags not being around him for the next three days.” “Unfortunately for you, it’s Christmas. So we’re going to all get a good dose of him.” “Just pump him full of painkillers. He’s great fun then.” “I don’t know if that’s what I’d call fun.” “It’s fun. Jacob says that the situation is under control, and if we need to go we can.” “I’ll just strap Scott in and get on the line Gordon.” “Don’t believe me? I’m offended.” Virgil stood and washed his hands before pulling his gloves back on. He patted Scott’s shoulder once and started towards the door. “I’m on my way up. I’ve had enough of your driving.” Gordon’s cackle almost echoed through the ship.

There were presents sitting on the table under the tree by the time Virgil stumbled into the living room. Scott was downstairs with Brains and a promise to keep a close eye. Gordon had passed out on top of his sheets, and Virgil was struggling not to do the same on the couch. He smelt of soot and sweat, and Virgil could barely keep a straight thought in his head now that the adrenaline and caffeine had worn off. The presents were neatly wrapped, labels stuck onto the sides. Walking over, he read through a couple, Alan’s handwriting scrawled across the paper. Virgil grinned to himself and looked up at the tree. There was something different about it. After a long second, he realised that small pixels of snow were drifting down around the branches. He watched them for a long time, little bits of white building up slowly on the green. Shaking his head to break the spell, Virgil used the wall to stumble up to bed. He was going to sleep like the dead.

#thunderbirds are go #rustwrites #secretsanta #thunderbirds #john tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy

[mason-rust]

Devils Advocate

Here we go, part 2 of the TAG brawl challenge for @artisticrainey. Part one is Mediator. 

Scott sat staring down at the glossy red of the desk, managing to think about everything and nothing at all.  His head throbbed, his nose ached and he couldn’t quite sort out one thought from another. Fingers running back and forth across the surface, Scott noticed a smattering of dried blood near his hand. He scratched at it with his nails, the rusty red coming of in tiny flakes. The feeling of guilt he was used to but not the nausea deep in his body and the dread sunk deep into his bones. 

Pursing his lips even tighter, Scott felt pain throb back through his head. The lights seemed too bright and he dimmed them, almost reducing the room to darkness. He could see the moon through the windows, tonight a crescent so sharp it looked like it could cut. Scott could always see the moon when he sat at the desk, but the moon held a different fascination than it had for his father. But Scott couldn’t sit and watch it tonight, not without seeing things behind his eyes that he didn’t want to see. Pulling out the drawer, Scott loaded up the mission files. They displayed across the air, files after files after files lighting the room is a blue-green glow. He paged up through them, going backwards until he reached the first file. Looking at the small image Scott didn’t think, he just clicked.

By the time John appeared in the room the moon was almost out of sight behind the rock. The light from the computer glowed green across the room, and through it he could see Scott half-asleep where he sat, head tilted forwards onto his chest. “Scott?” “Huh?” Scott shook his head and jerked upright. Pain lanced through his skull and Scott put his head in his hands with a groan. “You should be in bed and asleep Scott.” “I was –“ “Doing neither of those things.” Scott dropped a hand down on the table and almost knocked off one of the statues. “Shit.” Reaching out to steady it Scott pursed his lips again. “John, I’m busy.” “Scott, you’ve had a couple of knocks to the head and you need to rest.” “John, don’t patronize me. I have things to do.” “If you’re not in bed in the next 3 hours I’ll put you there myself.” “You and what army?” “Kayo.” John started to walk from the room and Scott turned back to his screen. “I’ve gone through every mission, every file and I just can’t work it out.” John paused and Scott ignored the small smile at the side of his lips as he returned. “Work what out?” “What he would do. I just … I just need to know.” Scott couldn’t breathe properly and he felt like there was a stone in his throat. The world blurred and he couldn’t even make out John’s expression. “I need to know if I was wrong John. I need to know.” “I think you already do.” John had moved closer and Scott could feel his hand on his shoulder. It was warm and stronger than Scott remembered, and Scott put his head back into his hands. There was something running down his face and Scott wiped at it. “Is it my fault? Is it all my fault? I tried- I tried so hard. I just tried to be like him and everything’s FUCKING UP.” Scott hit the table and felt his blood boil but he knew it wasn’t anger. “I JUST KEEP FUCKING UP and… I CAN SEE THE WAY VIRGIL LOOKS AT ME JOHN! “Scott-“ “HE FUCKING HATES ME, HE THINKS I’M INCOMPETANT, I’M STUPID, I’M RECKLESS, I’M A FUCKING MONSTER!”   “Scott!” John grabbed him by the shoulders and Scott just looked at him. He felt everything drain out of his body and Scott’s shoulders sagged. Whatever was holding him upright was gone and he almost flopped onto John. “Scott he doesn’t hate you.” “What am I doing wrong John?” “That’s not for me-“ “Just tell me.” “You’re trying to be like Dad. You’re not Dad Scott, and paging through every single mission file isn’t going to help. If you keep doing this then you’re going to stay a reflection, an imitation and you will keep fucking it up Scott.” “So I did fuck up.” “We all do. But it was Gordon’s decision. It was Dad’s decision to let him go into the field, and you know it. This decision is for you Scott.” Scott looked at John for a long moment and wondered what had made him so wise. “And now, you get some rest.” John released his shoulder but one hand lingered. Then John walked away. Scott looked into the blue files and pressed the screen off. The moon was gone and he could see the sky beginning to lighten. He stood up and rested a hand on his throbbing head before turning towards his room. Scott would sleep, but he already knew his decision.

#rustwrites #tag-brawl #writing #thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #john tracy

[mason-rust]

Halloween Part 1 - The Preparation

@scribbles97 Part one of the requested Halloween extravaganza. Fearful pranks will ensue.

There are many types of Halloween lovers in the world on a ranging scale from mild to extreme, and Gordon fell on the extreme end of the scale. If there was something Gordon loved, it was dressing up and scaring people. Or pranking people, or anything that would result in fun for him and embarrassment for them. And while in the past he’d had trouble carrying out his desired plans this year chaos and terror would reign. Gordon finished drawing up this years scheme, carefully mapped out the traditional way in ink on paper. He sat back in his chair and gazed at his work, feeling quite proud of himself.

The 30th began with a stealth attack, the difficulty being setting up without anyone noticing. He woke early and had his swim before dripping back into his bedroom and waking up his computer. Gordon sipped on a glass of water as he worked, carefully setting up the audio and distributing it on a timer to the array of speakers across the island. While they were perfect for music and announcements, Gordon doubted that his father approved of what they were going to be used for. But that was half the fun. The other half was evading John for two whole days, keeping him unaware of the pieces falling into place. The next step was lighting, and he opened up the code for the islands lighting. Gordon almost gave up hope at what looked to be over 16 pages of solid code but instead took another gulp of his water and prayed that no rescues would fall in the next hour.

If there was one thing that John could be relied upon for it was documentation. Every step in his process was carefully laid out, carefully documented for whatever poor sap happened to inherit the almost overly complex coding for the light timers. Gordon didn’t know where John had picked it up: all his early stuff was a complete mess, and it used to take him hours to trawl through to find the good bits, but Gordon was thankful that he had. Opening his own document, he began the alterations, carefully inserting and modifying the little lines of code until they formed the tapestry of what was going to conspire.

Gordon had a set of rules for each of his brothers: five governing factors for keeping them off his tail. Virgil’s had been cemented years ago, Alan’s ever-so-often augmented and Scotts occasionally re-arranged and Kayo had seven. John’s however were hard to pin down and keep track of, but there was one that always held true: he had a spectacular sense of timing. Unfortunately that often didn’t bode well for Gordon, and when the hologram flickered on he barely managed to hide his work in time. “Hey Johnny.” “Gordon I have a job for you.” “Yeah?” “Its solo: we have a trawler taking on water.” “Why is it always a trawler taking on water?” The huff of laughter in reply was enough and Gordon grinned, saved what he was doing and took the steps down to the hangar two at a time.

When he arrived back Gordon showered and just managed to avoid falling into bed, but he swung himself back onto the computer and polished off his code. Carefully hiding it within the neat lines of Johns, Gordon shut off the screen and stretched. It was time for the kitchen.  

Despite the quality of the cooking that often came out of the kitchen, Gordon liked the kitchen. Finding a large enough bowl he raided his small and secret supply of glucose syrup and food dye. The clear liquid drained into the bowl and almost reminded him of science class, back when he’d gone to science class. Gordon had hated everything but the experiments, and he’d taken to those with gusto. Lighting things on fire was always on his agenda. Briefly disturbed by Alan fleeing his homework, Gordon began to stir in the dye. It was a complicated process, and Virgil would probably have been better at mixing up the colours than he was. Gordon tipped in the red and began to drop in the green, bit by bit.  Despite his quest for realism, he was careful to make the blood a little too red and a little too thin.

Bowl carefully under his bed, Gordon returned to John’s code and did some more tweaking, copying the good bits into his compilation. With a yawn he wandered down for some more food, stopping in the living room. Virgil was sitting at the piano, lid up and hands on the keys but not playing. “Hey bro.” Gordon got a grunt in reply and Virgil narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked into the ether. Stuffing a bagel into his mouth Gordon watched him think for a long minute, before Virgil shook his head and returned to earth. “And here I thought that Alan was the astronaut. Welcome back to Earth.” “Very funny.” Virgil grabbed the rest of Gordon’s bagel off his plate before Gordon could intervene. “Hey! Get your own!” “Why would I when I can have yours?” The bite he took was prolonged and the amount of enjoyment over-played, and Gordon gave him the best glare he could. Virgil just grinned and finished the mouthful. “Thanks.” “I hope you enjoyed it.” Gordon returned to the kitchen, this time preparing two instead of one before returning to the piano.

He was lying in bed when the klaxon sounded, and Gordon could stop the long sigh before he rolled out, taking most of the sheets with him. Staggering out into the living room wondering what emergency could possibly have called for klaxons at 11PM, he was met with a grim faced family and an exhausted Alan. “FAB. Time to go Gordon. Alan, you stay as reserve.” For once, Alan was more than happy to curl up on the couch and Gordon couldn’t stop a slight twinge of jealousy as he changed into his uniform.

The next day John was extra lenient thanks to the night that had lasted until midday. Gordon took a couple of hours before wandering into the hangar to make his final preparations. Everything was ready.

#rustwrites #writing #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #taghalloween

[mason-rust]

Halloween Preparations

Halloween fic as requested by @scribbles97 in the works. Have a taste below. 

There are many types of Halloween lovers in the world on a ranging scale from mild to extreme, and Gordon fell on the extreme end of the scale. If there was something Gordon loved, it was dressing up and scaring people. Or pranking people, or anything that would result in fun for him and embarrassment for them. And while in the past he’d had trouble carrying out his desired plans this year chaos and terror would reign. Gordon finished drawing up this years scheme, carefully mapped out the traditional way in ink on paper. He sat back in his chair and gazed at his work, feeling quite proud of himself.

#taghalloween #rustwrites #writing #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #gordon tracy

[mason-rust]

Work it out

Back briefly to drabbles, have some John and Scott.

John hit the bag over and over again, feeling the skin on his knuckles sting as it grated across the bag. He just didn’t want to think, just hit the bag as he worked out his mind across the fabric. Up on Five he could only sleep when he was too exhausted to stay awake, his brain firing never-ending thoughts across his mind. Maybe, John supposed, if he stayed out here long enough he could get a proper nights sleep. Carefully pulling his thoughts back to now, John focused on the feeling in his limbs, the sound of his blows in his ears as he hit the bag. There was nothing but sweat and blood in his ears and John’s knuckles hurt but he kept going. He wasn’t nearly done.

Scott could hear the sound of the punching bag swinging on its hook along with the rhythmic sounds of flesh and fabric. It had been sounding for the last hour, over and over and over. He rested the spine of the book he was reading on the desk and looked out of the window. In the dark Scott could only make out the slight glow of the lights down in the training area. Tapping the spine against the table, Scott put it down and made his way down the stairs. Gordon and Alan were fast asleep, Virgil on his way back from a cave-in in Brazil and Kayo probably on patrol. There was only one person left on the island who could be downstairs, but Scott had known who it was anyway. Sweat was dripping a trail down John’s face as he hit the bag, and Scott knew from experience that each of those blows was enough to knock a man down. John was breathing hard, and each time he stopped, he only waited a couple of seconds before going back to the bag. Scott stood in the shadows for a long minute, watching John work something out of his system that was stubbornly remaining. “I think you’ve pulped whoever is on that bag.” John didn’t start, didn’t even look up, just steadied the bag with one hand. “I hit Gordon.” “You were training, weren’t you?” “I split his lip.” That explained the crease between John’s eyes as he turned to Scott. Scott shifted his gaze to the bag, noting the red streaks across the blue. “It was training. We all hit each other when we train.” “Yeah but I said I- you know what happened.” “You got very good at martial arts and then you stopped. John, Gordon’s tough, he’ll be fine.” John shook his head and rested his hand against the bag. Scott wandered closer. “Something else you need to say?” “Nothing that I want to.” Scott wasn’t sure whether he’d gotten better at reading John, or he simply felt the same thing. There was always something left over in their line of work, something to let out. John gave him a very tired grin that was more a twist of his lips. “Why did we decide to do it?” “Because Dad said we couldn’t. Besides, you can’t bottle everything up forever. It’s good to work it out.” John couldn’t see it, but Scott could. John had always bottled everything up, and he needed an outlet. He leaned against the bag and regarded his brother. John was panting as he looked back. “I’m going to stay out a little longer.” “Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Maybe we can have that drink we both desperately need.” “Sounds like a plan.”

John watched Scotts back as he retreated across the lawn before turning back to the bag. Squaring his shoulders, John began to hit the material, one, two, three, one two three. Tonight he was going to get a good night’s sleep.

#rustwrites #writing #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #john tracy #scott tracy

[mason-rust]

Sumbarine

Sorry it’s been such a long time, but i’m back into the swing of things. Without further ado, here’s some Gordon Tracy hurt. (Please excuse my pathetic knowledge of submarines)

Gordon opened his eyes a second before his alarm shrieked through the room. Tapping it off, he lay back onto his pillow and was temped for a moment to go back to sleep. For the last week they’d been on almost non-stop calls from America to China to Brazil and back again, and they’d all started to feel the strain. With a sigh, Gordon pushed himself out and into his swimmers. It was still dark outside, the sun not even on the horizon yet. His shoes flapped all the way down the stairs and he chucked his towel down on one of the chairs before walking over to the end. With a deep breath, Gordon dived into the water and swam.

When he finished his laps the sun had finally dragged itself out of bed. Squinting in the light, he floated on his back, panting and staring up at the sky. The water was cool around his skin and Gordon grinned allowing his breath to return to normal. With a happy sigh, he kicked over to the edge and hauled himself out of the pool.

Gordon dripped all the way up the stairs, towel wrapped around his shoulders. Crunching down on an apple he’d stolen from the kitchen, he showered and returned to the living room, kicking his feet up onto the couch. Gordon loved the quiet of the house before anyone else had risen. He’d barely been there ten minutes before John’s hologram appeared over the table. “Gordon, I’ve received a distress call from a submarine taking on water.” John’s face in the hologram held no emotion as he delivered the call. Then again, unless something really bad was up he never did. Gordon had always sworn up and down that the man had a computer for a brain. “On my way.” “It’s close, so you shouldn’t need TB2. I’ll send the co-ordinates across to 4 now.” “FAB.” Jogging out of the room, Gordon took the stairs two at a time down into the hangar, punching his code into one of the doors along the wall. With a pneumatic hiss it slid open and he grabbed his uniform out, pulling it on as he went. It was almost impossible to get the suit on gracefully, and he hopped from either foot in an effort to pull it up properly. Gordon cursed Virgil and Scott and Alan and everyone but him for their fancy uniform put-er-on-ers as he almost went face first down the stairs. Outside the 4’s tank he zipped up the suit and pulled on his utility belt. Climbing up the side, Gordon slipped inside four and booted up his systems. John’s co-ordinates came through, as did the hologram of Brain’s face. “Ready to deploy Brains.” “F-fAB Gordon. Emptying tank now.” The tank opened into a sea cave in the side of the island, and Gordon steered four out into the open sea. Reaching up, he flicked on John’s hologram. “Any details?” “Their breach appears to be from an engine malfunction which tore a hole in the hull.” International Rescue didn’t question how the accidents happen. That wasn’t their job, although sometimes Gordon thought they should. “How deep are they?” “550 meters.” “That’s deep for a commercial vessel.” “Its GDF.” That explained the circumstances. Gordon had lost count of the amount of times they’d cleaned up after the GDF. ‘Training accidents’ and the like. “Right. Tell them I’m going to evacuate them one at a time.” “FAB.” Accelerating, Gordon tipped Four deeper into the water.

Only minutes later the submarine appeared in his window. It was in bad shape, the hull breach obvious even from his distance. John put him through to the crew. “This is International Rescue. I’m approaching your location. Please prepare for evacuation. How many on board?” “Will do. There’s 5 of us.” Gordon moved closer, deploying the claw and grabbing onto one side of the rapidly filling ship. Maneuvering closer, he began to cut a hole in the hull, not bothering with how much water it was going to let in. He was already racing the clock. Pulling on his helmet, Gordon dived into the water. It was silent at this depth, the only noise Gordon’s pulse in his ears. He swum closer to the ship, grabbing the sides of his hole and pulling himself through. “Thunderbird 2 is on its way.” “How did you manage to get Virgil out of bed?” The inside was in shambles, water filling the sub almost to the top. John’s reply came through his microphone weirdly clear. “Klaxons.” He couldn’t help a grin at that. Johnny always did have a way to push the bear out of bed. Gordon hauled himself up and into the control room, deploying his helmet. Five people stared back at him, helmets already in place. “Who first?” Someone moved over without reply and Gordon pulled his helmet back on and dived under, guiding them out of the ship. Once out, he opened four and loaded them into a dry tube. “First package away.” “FAB” Virgil’s voice made him grin slightly. “I didn’t think you’d be out of bed yet. It’s only 7.” “Ha. Aren’t there four more people for you to rescue Gordon?” “Step by step Virgil. Can’t be making any mistakes like Turkey.” Gordon cut the line just before Virgil had the change to swear at him and dived back into the water.

Three dry tubes away and two left, Gordon swam back through his hole. The control room was almost completely flooded, the last two floating in the water. Tapping his wrist at the second last, Gordon frowned, something crawling down his spine. Something was about to happen. Only second’s later, there was a scream of metal as the ship began to buckle and the whole thing jerked, throwing everything that wasn’t bolted down out of place. He grabbed the man and hauled him along, the clock well and truly against him now.   “Gordon, you’re going to have to hurry up. The whole sub is buckling.” He didn’t bother to reply to John, already trying to navigate he way around floating debris. Pushing the man ahead of him, Gordon felt something catch on his upper arm and rip. Pain burned a white line down his arm and blood filled the water. “Shit.” “Gordon?” “Nothing.” Ignoring the pain, he managed to get the man into four, sending him up and away. Then he was back in the water, pain flaring up his arm as the sound of screeching metal filled the water again. Gordon surfaced in the control room and grabbed the final woman, practically dragging her out of the wreck. There was another scream and Gordon noticed his hole was buckling. The next scream was followed by a grinding hiss and then something smashed into Gordon’s back, drawing fire through his back. He was thrown forwards with the woman straight into the hole, and his helmet earned its keep yet again, not even quivering with the impact. Pushing the woman ahead of him as the submarine wailed again, Gordon saw red in the water. Panic flared through his system as he hauled himself through the oval and into the open water. He could feel the sting and burning pain across his back and he swam towards four. The woman was treading outside, and Gordon dragged them inside. He was bleeding bad. There was red dripping down his arm through the gash in his suit and there was something warm dribbling down his back. “I need you to get on and deploy the tube.” She followed the direction without question but a slight frown at the blood that was beginning to smear across everything. God bless the GDF and their ability to obey orders. Gordon deployed the tube and practically fell into the cockpit. “Fifth package away. Virgil, I’m going to need immediate docking in 2. I’ve got a couple of cuts and they’re not looking good.” “FAB, I’ve received all the packages. You’re good to go. Should I get out the kit?” Gordon flicked his eyes across the blood running down his arm and the pain in his back. “Yep. On my way up.” His hands were slipping on the controls as Gordon tried to get four up smoothly. The whole craft jolted as Virgil attached the rope and Gordon could barely focus he was in so much pain. There was another jolt as four finally docked. Gordon checked the hold, but Virgil had taken everyone out of the container. Deploying the controls, Gordon stood. And promptly fell against the wall, head spinning. Eyes bulging he managed to hold in the birth of a scream as the ship began to move. He could feel every movement through the pain in his back. “Gordon, I’m taking us to shore. How badly do you need first aid?” For a moment he didn’t reply, worried that if he did the scream was going to come out. Gordon clutched at his arm, blood dripping down around his fingers. “I’ll be okay for a couple of minutes.” Something must have come through in his voice, because Virgil’s pause seemed to stretch on for three long seconds. “FAB.” Grabbing onto one of the handles, Gordon shifted his weight managed to stand. Unfortunately, that brought screaming through his back and Gordon sagged against the wall. Stumbling through to the back, he grabbed one of the first aid kits off the wall, ripping it open. He pulled a pad from inside, pressing it onto his arm. Fumbling with a bandage, he wrapped that around too held on for dear life. Keeping one hand pressed into his arm, he wandered the other across his back, trying to find the source of the injury. Gordon’s fingers connected with the piece of metal and his blood ran cold. Feeling around, he noted the small pieces of shrapnel in his back and prayed it hadn’t been a lead pipe that burst. Or anything rusty. The last thing he needed was tetanus. He could feel 2 rumbling beneath the metal, and Gordon could feel himself getting light-headed. There was a slight shudder as Virgil put it on the ground, followed by the sound of the module deploying. Gordon stayed hidden in the ship as the crew exited, not wanting to move. There was the sound of 4’s door opening as Virgil climbed into the hold. “Gordon I-shit.” “Hey-ya Virgil.” Virgil didn’t smile back, moving over to Gordon far too fast. “Shit Gords, you said you were alright, you bastard.” “I am.” “No, you’re not.” Virgil scrabbled through the kit that Gordon had opened, pulling out bandages. He glared at Gordon’s arm like it had personally offended him.   “Right, I’m going to bandage this then we’re going to lie you down, alright?” He pushed off Gordon’s hand and replaced it with his own, frowning as he unrolled the bandage. When he wrapped the strip of white around Gordon’s arm he hissed at the pain. Virgil wrapped it tightly, tying off the bandage before placing a hand on Gordon’s chest. “Lie down.” “My back.” “Your back- Gordon what the hell did you do?” He could see thoughts flicking behind Virgil’s eyes as he evaluated the situation. The furrow between his eyebrows deepened. “Right, on your side.” Gordon lay on his side, arm still elevated. Then he moved onto his back. Gordon balled up his fist as Virgil started poking around. “Right, you’re going to hospital. No way am I going to do this myself.” “I’ll be-“ “Hospital. Do not move Gordon.” “Okay.” Gordon leaned his cheek against the side of the table, pain beginning to flare up again now that the adrenaline was draining out of his system. He vaguely heard Virgil talking to John or somebody and squeezed his eyes shut. “Gordon I want you to run me through the mission.” John’s voice in his ear almost made him start. He started to reel off how he’d gotten into the ship, the buckling and how he got the wounds on his body while John listened, asking the occasional question. Gordon had been so focused on John and his irritating attention to detail he hadn’t even realized they’d landed. There was the sound of people and Virgil appeared with a man at his side. “We’re going to move you now Gordon, and I need you to keep still as much as you can.” Virgil hovered as they loaded him onto the gurney and wheeled him out of two. “Stop worrying. That’s Scott’s job.” “Just wait until he finds out about this. He’ll wring your neck before shoving soup down your throat for the next week.” Virgil smirked at Gordon’s grimace. Injured, he’d be at Scott’s mercy and boy could that man mother. “We’re going to take him in now.” “I’ll wait outside.” The man pushed the gurney off and away from Virgil. Gordon lay his cheek against the white material. “Alright Gordon, we’re going to give you a local anesthetic and put you back together.” Gordon found that he was all right with that.

The hospital room was too bright, and Gordon wanted to go home. He hated hospitals.  The laceration on his arm had taken 12 stitches. Gordon was trying not to remember his back, which was currently screaming at him. He shifted uncomfortably and looked out the window. The sky was clear and blue, and Gordon didn’t know what country he was in.  He never really did. Someone knocked on the door. He shifted his gaze back to the door, taking in Virgil and the doctor with the wheel-chair. “Home time.” Gordon wanted to kiss his brother then. They loaded him into the chair and pushed him out into the hall, and Virgil received instructions from the doctor. Minutes and a signed piece of paper later and they were in 2 and away. Gordon couldn’t wait to get home.

He sat in the deck chair with his legs propped up, arm resting on the side and back carefully not touching the chair. The white bandages were in stark contrast to his skin, and Gordon gazed at the water longingly. “No water until till they dissolve.” “Yes mum.” Gordon rolled his eyes at Scott. “I have had stitches before.” “I could see you thinking about it.” “I wasn’t” “Yes you were.” “How about just my toes?” “No.” Scott frowned at him again. “No water.” “Buzz kill” Gordon went back to watching the water and decided it was time to move before temptation set in. Despite what Scott thought, he was slightly sensible.

Sitting across the couches in the same position he was when John had called, Gordon watched as the hologram appeared and disappeared, informing them of every disaster from here to Tokyo. As the sky grew dark, he found his eyes drifting shut and before he fell into sleep felt someone put a blanket over him. “How bad is it really?” John’s voice was soft, and Gordon was too tired to tell him that he was fine. “He’ll be alright, but no swimming for a while.” “Careful the fish doesn’t die while he’s out of the water.” “Already on it.” “And Scott?” “Hm?” “Stop worrying. He’s fine.” Gordon found himself smiling a sleepy smile. Amen to that John.

#rustwrites #writing #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go

[mason-rust]

Fight Night

This is set just after Tunnels in Time, and is dedicated to Gordon’s atrocious fighting stance as seen in that episode. I intend to do a series of these for all the boys, in the hope to explore their abilities and fighting styles more.

The ground under John’s feet was solid, but he was surprisingly stable. While coming down from Five on short notice usually reduced him to an uncoordinated mess, with enough notice and motivation he could almost reach normalcy. He’d been extremely careful for the last week, acclimatising himself and making sure to complete his scheduled exercise. Turning up tired and uncoordinated for a training session with Kayo was almost suicide. With a stretch, John wandered off the platform, casting his eyes around the hangar. There was a noticeable absence of green, Thunderbird 2 still on its way back. Working a kink out of his neck, John made his way to the main house.

Gordon was caked with a layer of dust an inch thick and embarrassment was beginning to flow up his spine into his face. “God I’m an idiot.” Virgil’s sigh in response was identical to the last three time’s Gordon had opened his mouth. Gordon ignored him, too busy turning red and putting his head in his hands. Looking through his fingers, Gordon noticed a small smile creeping up Virgil’s face. “Oh shut up.” Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect and the smile turned into a full-blown grin. Gordon kicked at his ankle and went back to ignoring him. The only problem was that then he found himself looking back over the day and wanted to disappear all over again. “Look, you didn’t embarrass yourself too much.” That was hardly encouraging and Gordon crossed his arms over his chest, aware he was staring to look like a petulant child. Uncrossing them, he tried to shake off the feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was a small jolt as Virgil landed Two in the hangar. “John’s here.” Gordon leaned over, craning his neck to see the elevator out of two’s window. While the black five painted on the side stared back at him, John’s red hair was nowhere to be seen. “He must be inside.” He couldn’t help but be slightly excited at the prospect. John may have been in constant contact with them, but irritating him just wasn’t the same through a hologram. Virgil tapped off the ship and stood while Gordon followed the motion. They went down in the elevator together, and Gordon snuck a look at Virgil from the corner of his eyes. There was a slight frown on his face, and Gordon knew better than to irritate him when he was thinking. Exiting the pod, Gordon stretched again. “I’m going to go and have a shower.” “Uh huh.” Rolling his eyes, Gordon moved towards the exit when he heard the voice. “GORDON TRACY.” Instantly Gordon panicked at the tone, running through all the possible things he could have done to piss Kayo off. He hadn’t done anything for at least a week, nothing that was going to get him in trouble at least… “What did you do?” Virgil had come out of his thoughts just in time to cast Gordon an almost amused glance. Gordon shrugged helplessly, still coming up surprisingly blank when Kayo rounded the corner. “Gordon Tracy, what were you thinking?” “Ahh…” “You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?” “Um…” Kayo threw her hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know why I bother. When you’re done here, I want you out the back.” “But I haven’t eaten since this morning!” “Fine. Dusk. Don’t be late.” She turned and walked off, muttering something to herself. Virgil raised his eyebrows and Gordon shrugged. “No idea.”

Gordon was still trying to work out what he’d done when he went into the kitchen to grab something to eat. He was already poking through the fridge when he processed the presence at the table. Turning around slowly, Gordon found himself looking at John. “Hi.” The only reply he got was a twitch of the eyebrows and a half smile. Gordon went back to the fridge and grabbed a plate of some kind of leftovers before dropping down in front of John. They ate in silence, John reading through some kind of report. “Anything interesting?” That got Gordon a proper grin as John replaced the top page and folded the document in half. “Unless you find business reports interesting…” As John trailed off Kayo appeared around the corner. Gordon was momentarily torn between hiding under the table and remaining where he was but Kayo seemed all right so he stayed. “John, Gordon is going to be joining us this evening.” Her tone made Gordon want to disappear under the table, and the fact he had no idea why made frustration grow in his gut. “Right.” “What did I do?” Kayo ignored the comment as she tapped John on the shoulder and left the room. Gordon redirection the question to John. “What did I do?” “You’re going to find out, I’m sure.”

John had disappeared after Gordon finished eating, and Gordon had his shower before making his way down to the flat plane of grass at the back of the house. To the side thin blocks of foam had been spread out over the ground but Kayo was nowhere to be seen. Gordon scanned the area, feeling dread rise in his gut. He wasn’t fond of training. The sound of something being hit caught Gordon’s attention, and he carefully crept around the side of the building. Both John and Kayo turned to look at him. Gordon just looked back. He’d never trained with John. Only Scott ever trained with John, and even then it was a rare occurrence. He was dressed in a loose pair of pants and a t-shirt, a pair of thin gloves wrapped around his hands. There was sweat on his face and shirt. “Gordon!” Gordon snapped his attention over to Kayo. “Fighting stance.” With a sigh, Gordon dropped into the stance, left leg forward and bent, right leg back and bent and guard up. Kayo walked over and tapped his hands. “What’s wrong with this?” Gordon looked at his hands, looked at his legs and came up blank. He was starting to feel defensive, and there was anger in his chest. His face must have changed because Kay shifted her stance, falling into the mirror of Gordon’s. “Copy me.” He adjusted his legs and arms as Kayo stood up again. “Look at your arms.” Gordon looked down at his arms. The only thing he noticed was how skinny his arms looked at this moment. The frustration made Gordon purse is lips. “I don’t see-“ “Okay, it’s your wrists.” Gordon looked back as his wrist while Kayo reached out and rotated his hands. “If you punch anyone like that you’ll break, or at least stuff up, your wrists. Make sure you keep them straight. And…” She pushed his elbows up slightly. “A little higher. Now, the punching bag.” He was instantly feeling better now that he knew what the problem was. He was also feeling embarrassed, knowing that every single one of his brothers, plus Kayo, Parker and Penelope had seen the mistake. As they approached the bag, John stood back from it. Gordon noticed he’d lost the gloves, and his knuckles were red. “Right. Give me 20, strong not fast.” Gordon fell into his corrected stance, making sure his wrists were straight. “Higher. Good. Go!” One, two, three, four, five, six- “Stop. Make sure you return for these, and fully extend. Keep going.” She walked away as Gordon went back to the bag, making sure his wrists were straight. After another ten, his knuckles were really starting to hurt and he noticed John watching him. “What?” John came closer and settled into a stance. “You’re not extending. Basically, you want to pretend you’re going through the bag.” John hit the bag once, the dull thump of his fist on the material sending the bag rocking. He steadied it with one hand before looking at Gordon. Then he punched the bag a second time and this time the bag swung with the impact. “You’re not just tapping it you’re going through it. Pretend its Scott or something.” Gordon gave him a grin and punched the bag, pushing his fist into the material instead of just hitting it. The bag swung, but not as much as when John did it. “There.” John settled back into whatever he was doing and Gordon went back to punching, driving his hand into the bag. His knuckles were beginning to burn. “That’s really good, Gordon, you’re extending properly.” Kayo sounded impressed, and for a moment Gordon sent a mental thank you to John for the tip. He was back in the good books. “I’m going to get you to do a drill. It’s just a standard one.” She had mitts on and motioned him in front of her.   “Its jab, jab, duck, jab. John?” The sound of the punching bag being battered stopped and John appeared again. Gordon couldn’t help but notice the state of his knuckles. He started with the back arm, punching across, then the other, a duck and then the final punch. “You’ve got to make sure you wind up Gordon on that last punch.” John completed a sequence and Gordon watched him carefully. When he ducked, it was less of a straight down movement and more round, starting at the left and bringing his body (and fist) forwards into the bag. “Once fast.” The jabs landed with a thunk, thunk, thunk. John stepped back from Kayo. Gordon couldn’t help but be slightly impressed. Stepping up, he began to hit the bags. Thump, thump- “Ow!” Gordon rubbed the side of his head. The mitt had connected right with his temple. “Duck properly.” Muttering under his breath, Gordon went back to the drill.

It was dark by the time Kayo was satisfied, and Gordon’s knuckles were raw. “Right, we’re going to do a couple of rounds of sparring, then I’ll let you both go.” “Sparring?” “Together?” Gordon noticed that John certainly shared his lack of enthusiasm for the next activity. Gordon hated sparring, hated getting hit. He’d much rather run away, and while Kayo said that was the best thing, he still had to practice. With a long sigh, John walked over and stood opposite Gordon. Gordon dragged his feet over to opposite John. Looking at Kayo, Gordon suddenly wanted to be rescued. Where was IR when you needed it? “So I just punch him? Just…” “Yep. You can kick him as well if you want.” “Right.” John didn’t say a word, just watched Gordon. “Go.” Neither of them moved, just stood and looked at each other. John shifted his feet and arms. “What if I actually hit him?” “That’s the point. And its not like his face can get any worse.” Kayo grinned and Gordon raised his eyebrows at John. “I’m more concerned about Gordon, he has even less to work with than I do.” There was a glint in John’s eyes that Gordon hadn’t seen for a while. He grinned back. “It’s on now.” Gordon moved forward, and John moved backwards, still watching. Throwing caution to the wind, Gordon let his fist fly towards Johns face. A hand grabbed his arm, something touched his legs and Gordon felt the impact through his back as he landed on the grass, looking up at the sky. “Ow.” Gordon wasn’t quite sure how he got there. Getting to his feet, Gordon slipped back into the stance and looked at John. He was almost like a statue. Frowning, they started to move again, and Gordon followed John’s motions with his eyes. He hated losing. The older Tracy’s eyes never left Gordon’s, not to look at his feet, his arms or anything. He swayed his body slightly, feet light on the floor. Gordon went back in, trying to think of something to do. John kept moving slightly, forcing Gordon to circle. Again, Gordon moved forwards, going to hit John. This time, he watched the counter. At least, he watched the counter until he ended up on the floor again. “I take it you like being on the floor.” John’s grin was almost predatory, and Gordon grinned back to mask the slight discomfort he felt. Standing, Gordon moved in again, John’s last counter showing an opening. “Don’t worry Johnny, no-one can get me down.” Gordon kicked at John’s chest, victory in his own. He landed on his ass in the dirt with a thump blinking at John with surprise. “And here I thought I was the one who was unstable on their feet.” “Is he allowed to do that? He just grabbed my leg and pulled!” Kayo didn’t answer but John shrugged. “Worked, didn’t it?” Gordon climbed to his feet again as Kayo came over. “Alright, seeing as I hate a one sided fight.” She leant down to his ear. “Go from the side and try to feint. Make sure to block though.” Gordon nodded back and looked across at John, who looked more than slightly concerned at the conspiratorial whispering. “Alright. Prepare for defeat.” John dropped back, a smile on his face. This time Gordon followed his movements, watching. When he moved in he went for a punch, pulled it in and redirected, getting John squarely in the gut. The second punch moved towards John’s face and he blocked, once, twice and again. Gordon went for a kick and John moved, the kick going wide and John’s fist meeting the side of Gordon’s face. Pain flared across his cheek. “Shit, sorry.” Gordon swore, touching his face. It burnt slightly and throbbed. “I told you to block Gordon.” John was standing close to him, the look on his face only slightly apologetic. Gordon grinned at him. “Got you.” The kick went right into John’s stomach and he took a step backwards as Gordon went in for his final attack. The spear tackle took them both to the ground, and Gordon landed on-top of John, going to roll off when an arm wrapped around his neck. It squeezed and Gordon panicked, fighting the arm until suddenly it let go. Gordon scrambled too his feet at the same time as John, both facing each other. There was a pause, and then John attacked. Kayo was right, Gordon should have blocked. He did, but then John kicked him, a side kick right in the gut and John was far too close. Gordon ended up on his knees, arm twisted behind his back. “Ow, ow, ow!” “Sorry.” John didn’t sound it but the pressure lessened. “Gordon, Gordon, Gordon, I told you to block.” He tried to lean up and look at Kayo, to tell her that he had indeed blocked but John pushed the arm back down until his face was inches from the dirt. He could see her fit in front of them. “John, you can let him go.” “I think it’d be safer if I didn’t.” “Damn right assh- ow!” John twisted his arm. “Watch your language.” John released the arm and Gordon brought it around before rising, rubbing his shoulder. The red head’s face was expressionless but his eyes were satisfied. Gordon wanted to punch him more than ever. “Right, lets go again. Gordon, I have another warning:” She leaned over to exclude John from the words. “If you get him to ground, don’t stick around unless you want to experience asphyxiation.” “Got it.” “John a word.” She defected over to John and Gordon glared at him. John watched him over her shoulder while she spoke. Then he nodded and Gordon felt his stomach drop. They faced each other again. “Go!” Gordon had been prepared for the moment of stillness, the time for him to plan his attack while John stood waiting. Instead, John moved and they were suddenly very close and Gordon felt pain explode across his face as he fell towards the ground. Then everything stopped. “Okay, time to stop.” Gordon blinked up and John and Kayo, both of them seeming like mountains from this angle. Gordon tasted blood in his mouth and looked at John. He looked slightly shocked, the predatory look gone and replaced with one bordering on horror. Gordon only grinned up at them. “Not on account of me I hope.” Pulling himself up he touched his lip. His hand came away with blood. “I haven’t been able to get him back for that.” “Gordon, I’m so sorry-“ “You will be.” He tried to grin and his lip stung. John looked like he wanted to punch himself in the face. Gordon felt tired and slightly dazed. “On second thought, I’ll have to take a rain check.” John reached out and caught Gordon’s shoulder. Kayo looked only slightly concerned. “Let’s grab some ice.” “You better be super nice to me John.” Gordon let John steer him into the kitchen.

There was no one else around, and Gordon was enjoying the opportunity to have John do things for him. He could tell John that it was alright, but that wouldn’t really help. “Hey, you’ve got to show me that?” “What?” “Your hook. It was a hook wasn’t it? Did Kayo teach you that?” “No, I leant that a while ago.” “Where?” “I did classes briefly.” “You? I thought dad didn’t want us doing any of that stuff.” “He didn’t.” “Some people go drinking, some people run away from home. Scott and I started Marital Arts.” “Cool.” John sat down next to Gordon on the couch and checked his face again.

“Gordon I’m really sorry.” “It’s fine. I’m just enjoying having one over you.” Grinning, Gordon rested his head against John’s shoulder. “You have to show me that.” “Maybe.” That was good enough for Gordon. With a yawn he stretched and handed the ice pack to John. “You should probably put something on your hands. Your knuckles were bleeding.” “I’m fine.” “How long are you down for?” “Why?” “Well, we have to have another match.” Gordon couldn’t help but feel sad. “Probably the rest of the week. I’ll operate out of here.” “Right. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Gordon stood up and made his way out of the room, leaving John on the couch. He wasn’t hopeful that John would still be there the next morning. John rarely was. There was always something that took him back to Five. Gordon looked back at John once before he left the room.

The next morning Gordon’s face looked worse than he’d thought it would. He swam early and flopped around until he walked into the kitchen. John was sitting at the counter, book open. Gordon couldn’t help but feel relieved. “So, how do I look?” John’s face fell at the bruise on Gordon’s jaw. “I think we could be twins, but unfortunately for you, mine will disappear, yours is inherited.” “We have the same parents, idiot.” “Ah well.” Gordon grabbed a glass of juice from the fridge when Scott walked through the door. “Morning John, Gordon- what happened to you?” “Intensive training session. Apparently John isn’t the only one unable to function with gravity.” Gordon ignored the look John slid over at him. A small beep caught John’s attention and his face slipped into working mode. “We have a mine cave in in Argentina.” “FAB.” Scott pushed off the table and pointed to Gordon. “You’re coming too. See you around John.” Gordon looked at John. “You’d better be here when I get back.” Then Scott dragged him around the corner and John was out of sight.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #writing #rustwrites #gordon tracy #john tracy #kayo kyrano

[mason-rust]

Inferno

Virgil really doesn’t get beat up enough, so here’s him in pain. 

Scott was taking the opportunity to catch up on the news when the flashing of the signal caught his attention. “Hey John, what’s up?” “Industrial fire, Estonia. It’s a resource factory.” Scott was up before John was even finished, already moving towards his loading bay. “Buzz Virgil and Gordon.” “FAB” John disappeared as the wall finished its rotation and Scott was ready for work. 

“Virgil, Industrial fire, Estonia.” Virgil threw himself off his chair and hollered for Gordon. Fires were where the speed mattered, and he was already too slow. The picture turned and Virgil found himself tapping impatiently as the machines did their work. It always felt too slow. Down the chute and off the end, he dragged the hatch shut as Gordon appeared fiddling with his sash. “It’s not fair. You guys get your fancy-pancy dresser things and I have to get into this already wet wetsuit.” Despite the grumbling, Gordon was already strapped in and ready. Virgil fired up Two and dialed up the speed. “You ready Virgil?” “FAB Scott. I’ll grab the water closer to the disaster zone.” “FAB. See you there.”

The resource factory was a write off, the plumes of smoke hinting at a leak of something sinister. An explosion rung out as they dropped the first lot of water, the gas meeting the heat and flames with an almost impressive power. “We have a gas leak. Watch yourselves.” John’s tone gave away more than the words themselves. The smoke was black, the ground flickering like one of the depictions of Hell in Scotts literature. Due to the chaos inside the inferno, Virgil didn't see the bar coming until it was too late. Another explosion shook Thunderbird 2, rocking it through the air as the fire belched debris into the air. At least three meters with sections glowing from the heat, he didn't miss the sound it made as it smashed directly through the windscreen. It didn't miss him either, the force knocking him out of his chair, throwing him across the cockpit. The wall caught him, head smashing backwards into the metal that had far too many knobs on it. Black flashed across his vision and suddenly he found himself lying on the floor. Pain radiated across his body, culminating in a ringing in his head. Blinking, Virgil tried to regain something that resembled functionality but when he shifted his body white flashed across his vision and he was on the floor again. He was also wet, Virgil found himself noting. It was dribbling down around his ear. The same ear that was picking something up, a tinny racket. Frowning, he tried to focus on the sound, brain scrambled but calm. "Virgil - Virgil -VIRGIL!" The shouting hurt his head and Virgil tried to push himself up again, only to find gravity still wasn't his friend. If only he could just turn the damn stuff off. Groaning, he tried to press a hand to the earpiece, to tell Gordon and Scott to please Shut the Fuck up. Nothing much came out except another groan. "Virgil?" Oh thank God. John's voice was softer and didn't feel like knives jerking into his brain. "John?" John said something else that Virgil didn't catch, too busy trying to work out why his top arm wasn't responding to his commands. "Virgil, are you alright?" "Give me a minute.” He was fine, really. Except for the dead arm and the pain in his head and the fact his body wasn't sitting up when he told the thing to. Finally, with an almighty shove he pushed up against the wall until he was sitting. White light and pain reeled across his vision and he slumped back over to the other side, barely managing to catch himself. Leaning his head against the wall - ow ow ow - Virgil tried to take a look around the compartment. He could smell smoke, see the flickering of flames. The control panel was fried, and the fucking bar through the windscreen meant he couldn't see anything but smoking metal. "Vigil, status." "Thunderbird 2 is fried." There was something obscuring his vision and he lent his crown back against the cool metal. There was also something sliding down the back of his neck, and he ran his left hand down it. It came away red. The sight of the crimson liquid coating his fingers sent fear down his spine and he reached up again, threading them through his hair. Probing his scalp, his fingers touched the matted hair around the source of the blood and the pain behind his eyes. Looking down at his right arm, trying to blink the pain away he noticed the odd angle of his shoulder. Frowning, he prodded it and brought himself another wave of pain. He could feel the blood draining out of his face. "I'm gonna need some help." "Virgil?" "Yeah I'm bleeding pretty bad and my shoulder looks..." He risked another look at the weird placement of his right shoulder. "...dislocated. Systems are fried." "Right. I'm sending Gordon back to your location to take over the controls." Virgil was feeling light headed. Now that he'd noticed his shoulder the pain was getting harder to keep down. "Virgil?" And here's Johnny. He chuckled to himself at that one, feeling his head loll down onto his left shoulder. There was a song starting in the back of his head, a tune that Virgil couldn't quite put his finger on. The pain was like a wave knocking out all of his conscious through except for the notes in his ears.

Virgil opened his eyes to a black silhouette and far too much pain. He went to close them again with a groan. "No, you don't. Eyes open Virgil." Virgil opened them and blinked at Scott. He was dirty with soot and the canyon between his eyebrows deserved a place on a map. The ship shuddered under him and Virgil frowned. "Gordon, be careful with my ship." The words came out slurred around his tongue and Scott's canyon grew deeper. "Virgil, I need you to stay awake alright? We're almost there." There was another shudder and Virgil toppled over. "Damn it Gordon!" Scott's hand was on his good shoulder, hauling Virgil up into a seated position again. Virgil thought it would be okay to go to sleep now. "Gordon I said- Virgil eyes open!" He chuckled softly to himself, eyelids made of lead. Scotty was going to have to try a lot harder than that. He was still chuckling as he dropped out of consciousness again.

When he was next shaken awake, Virgil was in a lot more pain than he'd been in before. "Virgil, we need you to stay awake." Blinking, he managed to focus on Scott and Brains standing in front of him. His shoulder ached and there were long needles digging into his skull. "Ww-we reset your shoulder and taped your head. I need you to answer a c-couple of questions for me, alright?" He grunted at that, feeling his thoughts float around his head lazily. Virgil couldn't quite hold onto a single one of them. It was going to be a long night. "What is your name?" "Virgil Tracy." "What year is it?" "2060." Brain's hummed under his breath and pulled out a small torch light. He shone it in Virgil's eyes, left first then nodded slightly. "I t-think he's alright. Someone should wake him every couple of hours. Just to be sure." "Right. Off we go." Scott looped an arm under Virgil's and frog marched him to his room. Virgil was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Someone was prodding at his face, and Virgil snarled slightly, turning his face. The irritation was gone for a second and then it was back. "Virgil!" Someone tapped his face again, and Virgil tried to wave them away. He was sleeping. "Virgil!" "WHAT?" He snapped his eyes open and glared at Gordon. He wanted to sleep, and the bloody idiot was keeping him awake. "What's your name?" Closing his eyes, Virgil rested his head back against the pillow. "Gordon so help me..." "What's your name?" "Virgil." Gordon nodded once, satisfied and for a moment Virgil thought the torment was over and he was going to be able to sleep. Then a bright light shone in his face. "OW, FUCK." He tried to shield his eyes with his arm, brain forgetting that it was strapped in a sling. "Would you stop?" Gordon flicked the light away and Virgil was blinded, white filling his vision. But he didn't need his eyes to know the little shit was grinning his face off. "Can I sleep yet?" "Yep. See you in three hours!" With a groan, Virgil turned onto his left side and shut his eyes again, the circle of light still colouring his vision.

"Ow, shi-!" Virgil jerked at the pain as Scott tried to tape his head shut. "It would be easier if you stopped jerking around." "I-" He hissed again as Scott finally got the tape on and in position, sitting back in his chair. "That needs stitch-" "It's fine." "No, it needs stitches" "Gordon, tell him it's fine." The little shit just ignored him, grinning like a clown. It was the same way he'd been ignoring them bickering for the last 20 minutes. Virgil had been hauled out of bed at midday by Scott insisting that his head needed looking at, and Scott hadn't provided him with caffeine. As such, Virgil felt worse than he looked, and fratricide was definitely a possibility. "Look, Virgil, you may have more experience than I do, but I'm telling you..." Rolling his eyes, Virgil called out to his last ally. The hologram of the only brother who could halt the smother-hen floated on the table. "John?" "You need stitches." So much for that. Scott 'ha'ed him in triumph so Virgil elbowed him in the stomach. "Fine. But Brains is going to do them." "Fine." Virgil rolled his eyes at the triumph in Scotts. He should have never let him win this one. He'd never forget it. Scott left the table in search of the engineer and Virgil turned on the still grinning shit. "What are you grinning at?" Gordon just shrugged and turned the page of the paper without looking at Virgil. The grin got wider. Virgil's sling itched at his neck. "I'd be careful after what you did to my ship." That got a reaction, Gordon's head snapping up and the grin disappearing. "What I did? I got you and your 'bird home in one piece is what I did Mr Ungrateful." "A toddler could fly better than you could." "A toddler- I sure hope you can swim Mr Ungrateful, because you deserve what's coming to you.” With that, Gordon shot a hand gun at him and wandered out of the room as Brains came in with Scott. "Alright, l-let's take a look at your head."

The piano would have been dusty from misuse, but Grandma’s efforts kept it pristine. Virgil could help but feel a little bad at the stickiness of the keys. He still didn’t have one arm, but the notes in the back of his head were beginning to drive him crazy, and they would continue too until Virgil wrote them down. That, he knew from experience. Carefully pressing out the notes one-handed, he paused every so often to note them down with the pencil. As always, it was like a flood, and once he started he found himself unable to just stop. The shadows grew long and the lights in the room switched on as he worked. Scott appeared with a plate of food, depositing it next to Virgil before settling down on the couch. “What are you reading?” While he was the one who asked the question, Virgil wasn’t really paying attention to the answer. “The Queen of Spades.” “Whose it by?” “Pushkin.” “Oh.” Virgil was the kind of reader who liked to read what was recommended to him. Every time Scott handed him a book Virgil would sit down and read it, and it took him a hell of a lot longer than it took Scott but he always finished it. They usually were interesting, just like the book’s John recommended just in a wholly different way. Virgil’s hands kept pressing the keys and occasionally scribbling down the notes, and they slipped into silence. The smell of food was calling him, and Virgil had gotten down what was in his head, so he picked up the plate and joined Scott. They sat in silence and Virgil watched the darkness outside the windows. When he was finished, he yawned and Scott looked up. “I’ll take it down to the kitchen.” “Thanks” Leaving Scott with his book and the empty plate, Virgil stumbled off to bed.

Scott sipped on his coffee, feet propped on the coffee table. Virgil was still sleeping off the past week and trying to get away without using his sling, Gordon was trying his best to become a fish and Alan was off avoiding his homework. For a moment, he allowed himself a deep breath and shut his eyes. The beeping of an alarm opened them and Scott found himself looking at John. "What's up?"

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #writing #rustwrites #whump #virgil tracy #scott tracy #gordon tracy

[mason-rust]

Midnight Hours

It’s been a while, but I’ve got some things in the works that I can finally work on. For now, have a bit of a Drabble for Gordon and Scott. 

Gordon lay on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling while his mind tumbled and raced through every possible thought. He was up to the hardest part of the evening: switching off. It had always been a chore, a task to try and shove everything into a box long enough for the brain to properly sleep and supply him with vividly bizarre dreams for the next four hours of straight sleep he got. Unlike for Alan, it didn’t seem to matter how much he worked, Gordon’s head still hit the pillow with his brain in overdrive. Shutting his eyes, Gordon lay his head back on the pillow and turned onto his side, relaxing his body.  

What felt like seconds later he ripped the covers off in frustration and threw himself out of bed, only to discover his bedside table residing 2 meters closer than he thought it was. Stifling a yell, Gordon rubbed his toes and muttered under his breath instead. The room was almost un-navigable in the dark, and his light switch was just too far away to get to without anymore accidents. He inched forward, sweeping a foot in front of his body to remove and sense any obstacle before it was able to ambush his toes. When they came into contact with something damp he jumped back, almost tripping back over his table. Gordon reached out, fingers coming into contact with the towel he’d dumped there this morning and he chuckled to himself. No slime monsters would dare invade his room. Not since the mould vs. John incident of 2053. Another chuckle and Gordon finally made it to the door, but his fingers hesitated on the smooth plastic of the light switch. He moved them to the handle, inching the door open and thanking the hinges for not making a racket. The hall was dark, the only light coming from the moon but a yellow gleam was cast across the corridor from the end. Inching forward, careful not to make any noise that could disturb the bear next door, Gordon crept through the corridor. Virgil had never had any trouble switching off, lucky bastard, but he certainly had trouble waking up. But that could easily have been their hours. None of them got enough sleep, and that was a fact. Alan’s room had a slight glow under the door, but it was the moon’s light not the artificial bulbs in his ceiling. Gordon never could understand how he slept with the curtains open to the night sky, but Alan had just shrugged when he asked. John’s room was truly dark, and for a moment Gordon considered entering the absent Tracy’s room to filch a nice, boring book to read. But Gordon left that alone too, the glow from the living room drawing him closer like an angler fishes esca. There was one more room to pass before the end, and Gordon only noticed the light from under the door when he was almost past it. Scott was up. That made Gordon pause again, considering knocking on the white door. Scott was probably reading some literature rubbish, and Gordon could count on him to explain the whole damn ‘idea’ and ‘concept’ until Gordon dozed off. But something made Gordon pause with the fist hovering over the wood. There was something childish about knocking on his older brothers door when he couldn’t sleep, and Gordon was struck with embarrassment at the thought. He removed his hand, standing inches in front of the door. From inside he could hear Scott’s voice, but not what he was saying. Probably talking to John. Gordon paused for a whole second, overcome with a sudden feeling of sadness, paralysing his limbs. Careful not to make any noise the floor creaked anyway as Gordon descended the stairs to the living room. It was empty, the light near the couches left on when the last brother retired. Something about the empty room squeezed his chest, and Gordon was left feeling strange. He didn’t like the feeling, the tightness in his chest and the pressure behind his eyes and Gordon continued through the room, pausing only to turn the light off as he passed. His eyes weren’t used to the dark, but the moon was high and lit everything blue and grey. Padding through the kitchen, Gordon stripped off his clothes and slipped into the pool. The water was freezing, and it took all his self control not to dive straight into laps to warm his body. But swimming was noisy, and he didn’t want to disturb any of the other sleepers. Sliding deeper he pushed away from the edge, wading into the centre of the pool before taking a deep breath and sinking to the bottom. The water pressed against him from all sides, slight pressure on his head. Opening his eyes, Gordon watched the empty walls of the pool through the water. His chest still felt funny, but everything was still and silent and calm. When he was finally forced to crest the surface the pressure was gone, and the calm had sunk through into his head. Turning, he started his laps, swimming until he could barely breathe and his limbs had turned to lead. Flopping across the edge of the pool, legs still in the water, Gordon watched the moon as the wind cooled the water on his body. Swishing his legs around, he stretched and lay back on the concrete, hair forming a puddle of water under his head. Gordon lay there like that until his breathing had returned to normal and the water had chilled to ice. It was only when the wind blew that he realised how cold he was.

Scott had just finished reading the same paragraph for the fifth time and realised that it was pointless to continue. There was a certain level of concentration required for Kafka, and it wasn’t really what he felt like reading anyway. Bookmarking his page, Scott put the book back onto his desk and went over to the shelf to find something else to read. Once it had been full of books in progress and finished, but now the case was more intention. He didn’t get much time to sit down, let alone relax enough to take on something with content. Scott browsed through the various titles he’d read before: old favourites dog eared and stained. In contrast, John’s books were in far better shape but still well loved. Scott settled on The Iliad and retrieved it from the shelf while trying to stop the spine from falling off. Moving back to his desk, he carefully placed the book on the table and leafed through it, starting from about half-way through.

Scott had breezed through half before he registered the light flashing on his desk. Tapping the communicator once, John’s face appeared casting a blue glow across his book. “The Iliad and the Odyssey?” There was something almost superior in John’s tone, surprised at the least. He’d never really appreciated the same kind of literature Scott did. John’s interests tended towards A Brief History of Time or The Origin of the Species. “Couldn’t sleep. What’s up?” “Just slow-burners. Nothing that need’s attention at the moment.” That was a bad sign. He hated the slow burners, the days and weeks of clean up or rescue. Scott preferred the in and outs, the fast fires or cave-ins. “Monsoon season’s already brewing, just as a heads up.” “Its early this year.” There was a creak outside his door and Scott glanced over towards the corridor. “You should get some sleep; the way things are looking it’ll be a valued commodity over the next couple of weeks.” “Speak for yourself.” John snorted and Scott could see his attention fraying as the holograms arms moved, the hands out of sight. “Problem?” “Not yet.” The slight frown that appeared made Scott grin. The conversation was over, John’s attention already on something else. “Night John.” He switched off the hologram and settled back into his chair, book open and abandoned on his desk. With a yawn, Scott stretched and stood up, pacing from the desk to the door. Scott could just hear the sounds of water from outside the wood, and he retrieved his book and opened the door. In the corridor it was louder, the sound of Gordon exhausting himself on laps up and down the pool. Standing in the doorway, Scott glanced once at his bed before moving down the stairs. He wasn’t tired anyway.

When Gordon finally dripped his way up from the kitchen the light in the living room was back on, but this time the room had an occupant. Scott was sitting on one of the couches, holding together a battered paperback. “Couldn’t sleep?” Scott lowered the book enough to level Gordon with a properly parental stare. Gordon almost started fidgeting, automatically coming up with excuses. “You’re not in bed either.” It came out far more petulantly than Gordon had intended. Scott just shrugged in response. He turned another page and Gordon didn’t move, water beginning to puddle around the soles of his feet. Before he realised that he had made a decision, Gordon moved over to the couch, plopping down next to Scott. Yawning, the room began to blur slightly in front of Gordon’s eyes, the many-armed statues merging into more-armed statues. He leaned back into the couch, sinking lower into the cushions. Another yawn, and Gordon rested his head on Scotts shoulder. He could practically feel the raised eyebrow Scott shot him. “Shut up.” Now he couldn’t keep his eyes open, and Gordon found them pinned together with lead.

Ten pages down and Scott dog-eared the corner of the page and stretched to put the book down on the table without disturbing Gordon. He had switched off like a light, and his hair was currently soaking damp through Scott’s shirt. Scott tipped his head backwards across the back of the couch, watching the ceiling. Only minutes later, he followed Gordon’s lead and drifted off to sleep.

The light that streamed through the floor to ceiling windows was blinding, and Gordon found himself blinking awake at their touch. He was alone in the room, but Gordon wasn’t cold despite the chill in the morning air. Scott was gone, the only trace he’d been there the battered paperback on the table and the blanket over Gordon’s legs. The house was still and silent and Gordon grinned while he stretched, settling back to soak up the silence. When the sun lifted into the windows he stretched again and wandered down to the pool before throwing himself into the water. It was time for his laps.

#thunderbirdsarego #rustwrites #drabble #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #gordon tracy