Birdwatching

Heat clung to every atom of existence as the sun hung in the awful position that depicted afternoon. Summer in Australia was no joke, and the sweat had accumulated to the point that Scott could slick back his hair and it would stay stuck, even with the lack of hair gel he had time to put on in the morning before he was off to rescue. His body felt like a giant oven, and with another swig of electrolyte, Scott stared ahead at the disaster zone. The collapsed skyscraper looked relatively small from where Scott sat within the concrete jungle, somehow peaceful even if lives had been stolen. A deep sadness hung over the city, or, some sort of sorrowful gloom that seemed to brew within Scott’s stomach. Perhaps, it was due to the amount of loss he had seen today, or the fact his stomach was simply empty. 

He slowly climbed back into his silver-grey ‘bird after he bid his farewells to the rescue teams that still would work tirelessly into the evening. As the holographic display slowly flickered into life, Scott transferred his grips to control the dart-shaped craft. A sonic boom and pilot and ship would be back to Tracy island in mere moments. The unsettled churn in his stomach didn’t seem to cease, not for post-flight checks and neither for his shower. Scott appeared from his bathroom with a clean set of clothes and a tired smile.

‘Scott!’ A chorus of 3 voices woke the older brother just a tad more as he walked out to the sunken lounge.

‘You want to watch a movie?’ Alan grinned, ‘we’re trying to get John down but he refuses.’

‘Sure, I’m down. What movie?’ Scott settled into his usual position beside Virgil, his younger brother looped an arm around his shoulders and a sigh released tension he didn’t even know he carried. 

‘Star Wars,’ Alan grinned. Made nearly over 100 years ago, Alan sure liked the old movies and it wasn’t something Scott would say no to. Who was he kidding, he’d probably fall asleep before they’d even been introduced to Luke. 

‘Is this just another attempt to get me down?’ John asked, clearly a little apprehensive of one of his favourite pieces of old fictional media being shown when he wasn’t down.

‘Well, you’ll miss out!’ Alan sighed dramatically.

Virgil’s fingers drummed a steady pattern onto Scott’s shoulder with his fingers, a cheek stuck out in thought as John and Alan bickered about something, Scott was slightly too tired to care. Though, Virgil held a tight expression.

‘What’s wrong?’ Scott whispered, his voice lost amongst the two astronauts. If he listened enough he could tell it was something about watching the movies via release date or chronological order. 

‘Something feels… I don’t know, off?’ Virgil shrugged, worry danced within brown eyes.

‘I feel it too,’ Scott mumbled, a tired nod.

‘It’s okay, it’s probably nothing,’ Virgil mentioned, his thumb rubbed over Scott’s shoulder, ‘you sleep. I’ll keep an eye on this lot.’ ‘Thanks,’ Scott mumbled, though he didn’t plan to sleep. Well, as his father would say, sometimes things just never go to plan.

-*-

Scott was awoken by a jab in the ribs and some horrible klaxon which sounded nothing of what they were usually woken by for a rescue. His eyes blinked as he watched the holographic TV turn from something about Anakin Skywalker to a bright blue screen that made Scott wish he was still asleep. ‘This is an emergency GDF broadcast, please do not turn your device off.’

He sat straighter at this, eyebrows buried themselves into each-other and what Gordon dubbed his ‘brother lines’ deepened upon his expression. ‘What's going on?’

‘Don’t know,’ Gordon crossed his arms, ‘they better hurry we got to the good part.’

‘This is not a drill. This is an emergency GDF broadcast. A bioweapon has escaped GDF labs containment. This has the potential to destroy lives. Spreadable like a virus, this bioweapon has the ability to cause people to go mad. Currently, extreme measures are being put in place to ensure your utmost safety. The weapon is drawn to light and sound, especially at night when there is not a lot of it around. Please refrain from light and sound after 6pm until the GDF are able to get this back within containment.’ The message was mechanical, the deep unsettled feeling in Scott’s gut returned as it repeated a couple of times, before it finally shut off.

‘Did you get that John?’ Scott had stood up, when? He didn’t know. His heart drummed in his ears and his body screamed at him that something was wrong. The GDF had not warned International Rescue on anything about this, it felt weird. Perhaps even untouched with reality. His hand balled into a fist and found it sweaty again, despite the much cooler environment of the villa with the aircon on.

‘Affirmative, Tracy Island. I have tried to contact Colonel Casey now, but that doesn’t sound good.’

‘What, is this like, turning people into zombies or something? Why such a big deal?’ Gordon frowned.

‘I thought the GDF went against biological warfare. It would be too devestating. Dad told them not too ages ago when the question was raised,’ Scott ran a hand through his hair. 

Colonel Casey’s holographic projection flickered onto life in the lounge, ‘Colonel Casey!’

‘John I really don’t have the time-,’ Casey began.

‘I know, it must be hectic but what is going on? A bioweapon?’ John pressed, his face neutral but Scott knew enough about John to see the wariness of his younger brother.

‘Yes, a bioweapon has been released from containment. It’s.. bad, people go crazy when vulnerable to it, it’s like a virus that takes control of the brain, and slowly eats away at it. People become feral… it’s a big deal. I advise you to listen to the requirements we’ve put in place,’ Colonel Casey said all too quickly.

‘We’re in the middle of nowhere, on an island. Surely the light and sound rule doesn’t apply to us? We still have a rescue organisation to run,’ Scott countered.

‘Yes, and you can still do that, but we wish you to not do a rescue anywhere past 6pm for the timezone the rescue is in, you must understand this is very dangerous, Scott.’ 

‘I understand, but people still need our help.’

‘And you can help them, but please keep the lights out. While we don’t mind obviously, you are in the middle of nowhere and one of our closest allies, but we have automated GDF fliers who will strike down places with light past 6pm local time.’

Scott’s eyes narrowed, ‘but can’t you just make an exception-’

‘Look Scott I have so much on my hands I will have no time, so the answer is no,’ Colonel Casey shot back as the holographic projection flickered out.

‘Well that's not creepy at all,’ Alan mumbled.

‘Something feels off about it,’ John admitted, ‘but let's not stir up anything. Let’s just listen to them.’

‘For now, yes. But there are people out there that could need our help,’ Scott frowned, ‘we don’t get to choose if we risk our lives to some virus, we have to help.’

‘We do have a choice though,’ John mumbled.

‘Dad would have wanted us to continue on!’ Scott took another step forward to his younger brother's hologram.

‘Yes, but we need to see the strength of this thing before we actually act, Scott.’

‘F.A.B,’ Scott finally resigned, he took a step back in defeat.

‘Speaking of, we have a situation that may be brewing. A GDF bridge to a secret facility is currently under immense stress and is falling apart. A GDF soldier is stuck in the armoured van, and is in a fine balance before he falls.’

‘Alright, Virgil, Gordon, Alan, you’re in Two. We’ll need the pods to stabilize that bridge. I’ll double time it to your location and get the soldier safe,’ Scott ran towards his launch chute, a chorus of F.A.B’s ran throughout the villa, ‘thunderbirds are go!’

-*-

The roar of engines felt reassuring against the pressure that clasped tightly over Scott’s head and the tight clench of his hands to One’s controls to gain a tad of reality. The broken bridge finally showed up underneath his feet, barely intact, the soldier hung off the side of the truck. It was now that Scott realised it was raining. The sky suffocated from the thick fog; rain berated the bridge like it personally wished it to fall. ‘Thunderbird Two, stabilise that bridge, Alan, Gordon, in the pods. I’m going after that worker.’ Scott let his ‘bird hover in the air with her VTOL’s as he got the harness for the soldier and jet-packed himself down. 

The weather was on full display now, fat droplets obscured the vision upon Scott’s helmet, as he fitted the harness on the rescuee, the bridge gave an awful groan from underneath them. Before the bridge could give away from Virgil’s grasp, Scott managed to clear him and the soldier before the bridge toppled to the ground.

‘Eeesh, the GDF are not having a good day,’ Gordon commented that Scott was very lucky the soldier he had rescued didn’t hear. Silence felt like it wrapped around his neck and pulled it in a tight grasp, the sense of oncoming dread he had felt all day returned as Thunderbird One landed on the side of the bridge and let the worker go. 

The hackles on Scott’s neck rose as Colonel Casey walked towards him with a look of utter disgust. ‘I’m sorry about your bridge,’ Scott gave a weak smile.

‘International Rescue,’ Casey’s mouth twitched, ‘I told you not to respond to rescue’s beyond 6pm local time.’

The rain repetitively threw fists at the ground, thunder rumbled in the background as if it too sensed the tension.

‘It wasn’t 6pm when we got here,’ Scott countered.

‘That shipment was highly classified,’ Casey beared her teeth.

‘We were not aware of that, it was declared a rescue. John asked if we could help and the worker said yes.’

‘International Rescue can’t continue in these times. You’ve clearly already pushed boundaries, Scott,’ the Colonel’s gaze was like daggers. Though the rain couldn’t get to the pair under the cover of the nose of his Thunderbird, Scott felt a shiver electrify his spine.

‘What? You’re grounding us?’ 

‘Yes. You work at the will of the GDF and I feel that boundary has never been set for you boys. Your father would agree with me when I say this, Scott. This bioweapon is way too dangerous, we aren’t sure what it’s fully capable of, but its mortality rate is,’ Casey wrinkled her nose and put her palms out in a motion that said ‘don’t know.’

‘Permanently?’ Scott took a stride forward.

‘No, not permanently, but until further notice. Now get back to the island and shut the lights off so that the GDF doesn’t lose our best ally,’ Casey’s smile was sweet as she patted Scott on the shoulder, ‘listen you don’t want to hear it as much as I don’t. This is for your safety. Your little brother's safety.’

‘Fine,’ Scott bit back his snarl, ‘F.A.B Colonel.’

‘Good, now go home,’ she waved and Scott felt a sink in his gut. He slowly clambered into Thunderbird One and punched it home.

-*-

‘They’ve shut us down?’ Virgil blinked in uttermost belief.

‘I guess the question now is,’ Scott said as he looked at all of his brothers which included John who’d come down for the news, ‘do we want International Rescue to continue?’

The lack of light over the island felt odd, unnatural. There was always a dull holographic glow from something that required a rescue, a brother up and about or even a family movie. Far away from civilisation, light pollution was non-existent, the room was barely visible, darkness coated them in a thick cloth.

‘What if they’re right, we’ll just stop for a bit then start up again?’ Alan asked, a slight tremble in his voice as he clung to Virgil’s arm.

‘While I think they’re right, when have we ever cared for our lives when it comes to helping others?’ Gordon tilted his head.

‘We haven’t,’ John agreed, ‘but I’m with Alan, this may be dangerous, we need to see how it goes.’

‘International Rescue hasn’t backed down from a fight, we need more information on this bioweapon which Kayo and Lady P are investigating but I think we should continue. We can’t back down now, not when the world needs us,’ Scott gave a shrug.

‘I think we continue, imagine all the scared terrified people,’ Virgil whispered. 

‘We continue then,’ John whispered as if he didn’t believe what he said himself.

‘We continue,’ 5 voices agreed in the dark.

Thankfully, getting Blue out of the forest and back to the others wasn't too difficult. Once his injured wing was secure, Scarlet and Grey helped him to his hooves and walked with him through the trees. 

Scarlet walked a few paces ahead, making sure they didn't get lost, whilst Grey stayed at Blue's side, one wing curled protectively over his back.

Blue barely said a word on the way back to Cloudbase. The flight being quiet was normal enough, they were often tired after a long day, after all. But the uneasy feeling that lingered in the air wasn't, and Scarlet didn't know what to do about it.

Magenta and Ochre were in the cockpit, leaving him and Grey in the cabin with Blue, who had sat down by the window and not taken his eyes from the sky outside ever since.

Grey clearly understood what he was going through. No doubt he'd been through something similar after his accident with WASP. That had damaged his wings, as well as the rest of him. But Scarlet had no idea how to approach this. 

He wanted to talk to Adam, to comfort him and reassure him that everything would be okay. But it wasn't that simple.

In theory a broken wing shouldn't be different from any other injury. But that wasn't really true. It was also one of few injuries that Scarlet hadn't experienced himself, and one of even fewer that he never would experience. For the simple reason that he was not a pegasus.

He hated not knowing what to do. Especially when his friends were involved.

About halfway through the flight back to Cloudbase, Brad found him in the galley, staring at the water in his cup rather than drinking it.

Paul's ear twitched as Brad's hoof-steps pulled him back to the world around him.

"Hey," Brad said, slightly hushed. "I think he's asleep," he added, glancing over his shoulder into the cabin.

"Is he?" Paul asked, and Brad nodded. "It'll be another hour or so before we get to Cloudbase. The rest will do him good."

Brad hummed in response and took a step closer to Paul. "Are you okay?"

"Me? I'm fine. I'm not the one who got hurt."

Brad didn't look convinced, and Paul didn't blame him. The other Captains all knew him too well to let him get away with the 'I'm fine' card anymore.

Paul sighed and set his cup down on the counter, the gentle hum of his magic fading as the glow around his horn dissipated. "I'm just worried, that's all."

Brad gave another nod, clearly glad to get a more accurate answer that time. "I'm worried too. A broken wing is awful for any pegasus, but for a pegasus like Adam... I'm sure the worst possible outcomes are swirling through his head right now, and to be honest, I don't blame him. It's scary."

"That fear I can understand, to a degree, anyway," Paul said, lifting a hoof to touch his horn. "A broken horn still scares me. It happening to Pat is even more terrifying, because that wouldn't heal, and it could kill him," he explained, before dropping his hoof back to the floor. "But a broken wing is different."

"I don't think it's that different," Brad said with a small shrug. "But I'm a pegasus with unicorn family, and I have damaged my wings pretty badly and come out the other side able to fly again. So maybe my perspective isn't the same."

"I don't know." Paul sighed again. "But what I do know, is that Adam won't be able to fly for a while, and regardless of what Fawn tells him, he's going to hate every minute of it. He gets restless just being stuck inside for too many days in a row. Being completely grounded and unable to stretch his wings, not even able to fly a few laps of the sports hall, will be really hard on him."

"It will. So we'll have to support him through it. Same as we always do when one of us gets hurt." And Brad was right, of course.

-----

Adam slept for the remainder of the flight, and didn't stir until Paul gently woke him as they approached Cloudbase.

There were medics waiting for them in the hangar, Doctor Fawn included, and they quickly made their way over to Adam as soon as he was out of the plane. Paul followed as the med-team took Adam to sickbay, leaving post-mission debriefs to Pat, Brad, and Rich to handle.

One of the medics spoke to Scarlet on the walk through Cloudbase's long corridors towards the sickbay. The young pegasus stallion's ears flicked back, his feathers twitching at his sides, as Scarlet gave him the details. A barely contained flinch just at the mention of somepony breaking their wing. It really was a universal fear amongst pegasi. Not that Paul had doubted that, but seeing it with his own eyes outside of Adam grimacing when Brad got a little too detailed about exactly how badly beaten up his wings had been after his accident, was certainly something.

He didn't really know what. But something.

Fawn restricted Paul to the waiting room and told him to stay put. He wouldn't deal with Paul's worrying whilst trying to treat a patient. But that wasn't new.

So, he waited. And after about ten minutes the waiting turned to pacing. Adam wasn't in any immediate danger, but Paul was still worried, and he didn't like sitting around at the best of times.

Half an hour passed before Fawn appeared. Well, Paul heard him before he saw him - the distinctive click click click of hooves on the hard floors approaching the room. Paul stopped his pacing and turned to the door, his ears pricked forward and alert as Fawn stepped into the waiting area.

“How is he?” Paul asked before he could stop himself.

“Shaken and bruised, but the worst of it is his wing,” Fawn said simply.

“Broken?”

“Yes,” Fawn nodded. “As broken wings go it’s not too severe. Though I would say it was quite close.”

Paul tilted his head to the side slightly, confused. “What do you mean?”

Fawn thought for a moment before sitting back on his haunches. He lifted his front hooves and pointed just above his bent elbow. “The fracture would be about here on a leg, close to the elbow.” He moved his hoof down and tapped the joint. “If it had been even an inch closer, it could have easily complicated things,” he explained before standing up straight again. “However, as it stands, he shouldn’t need surgery, and so long as he rests and lets himself heal, then he should be fine.”

Paul breathed a sigh of relief. That was very good news. “So he’ll be okay?”

“He’ll need to keep his hooves on the ground for a while, which I’m sure he won’t appreciate. But yes, I expect a full recovery.”

“He won’t like being grounded for so long, no,” Paul said. Adam would get restless if he was grounded for more than a few days between missions. A broken bone could take a couple of months to heal. Paul didn’t know if that applied to wings too, but it probably wasn’t that different, right? “I’m just glad that he’ll be okay.”

Fawn nodded again. “I’m going to keep him here overnight just to make sure everything is as it should be. Once the fracture is sufficiently healed he’ll need physio and to ease himself back into flying, but that can be sorted out closer to the time. For now, he needs rest.”

“Can I see him?” Paul asked. Wanting little else right now than to see Adam.

“Yes, but keep it brief,” Fawn answered. He turned toward the door and gestured for Paul to follow. “I think he might still be quite shaken by what happened. But I’ve treated enough pegasi with injured wings over the years to expect it, to some degree.”

“He didn’t say a word on the way back to Cloudbase. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like that before.”

“Everypony responds to things differently. But as a rule, pegasi are as protective of their wings as unicorns are of their horns. Neither are always aware of it, but it’s true all the same. Damage there is a fear they all seem to carry, just as I’m sure you do too.”

Paul can only nod to that. He understood. He’d seen it. With others, in the past. And now with his best friend, and he hated it.

Fawn walked Paul to Adam’s room before leaving him be. Paul knocked on the door before going in, and Adam lifted his head from his pillow at the sound. Even hurt and shaken, it was nigh impossible to sneak up on him. His wing was properly bandaged and strapped up now, held in place against his side. He looked tired, and despite Paul’s efforts, conversation was sparse.

What Brad had said earlier about the worst possible outcomes swirling through Adam's head seemed to be rather accurate. Sure, Adam didn't say it, but Paul knew him well. And he knew when he was worrying and thinking too much. He didn't blame him, of course not. But those spirals of 'what ifs' never did anyone any good.

That one he did know from experience.

It was decided that they should park the bikes up and continue their hunt for their father on foot, before Alan got too distracted by gleaming vintage sports cars and collided with anything that was likely to increase their already sky high insurance premiums (the poor boy was a sucker for a shiny red paint job). 

They were marginally safer on foot, although Scott nearly tripped over a small child whilst his attention was drawn to something sleek and silver that claimed to have made land speed record attempts.  They were just considering asking at the local radio station stand if they could put out a tannoy announcement for their missing father, when Jeff appeared. Gordon claimed it was fate, and if they had interrupted the song as Scott had wanted to, then karma would have frowned upon them, therefore they should once again all give thanks to “Boogie Wonderland” for being the answer to so many of life's problems. Virgil smacked Gordon on the back of the head, because if he didn’t, Scott was likely to, and with significantly less care. It was turning into a much longer day than any of them had anticipated. 

“Boys!” Jeff held his arms wide and his face was a picture of delight. “You made it!” he beamed. “Are you having a good time?” he asked Alan, who had barreled in for a hug, because that's what open arms are for, right?

“This is awesome,” Alan broke free long enough to fizz with excitement. “You were right, I do love it! How did you hear about it?” 

“Oh it's just a thing the local community has organised,” Jeff said. 

Virgil's raised eyebrow cut through the false modesty, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Community, huh?” John had no such reserve. 

“Yeah, they’re really keen to revitalize the town, and this seemed like the perfect way to showcase some local talent and draw in crowds.” The sales pitch came out perfectly, which was what tipped off Scott.

“And they used the word ‘revitalise’? Did they?” Scott asked, applying his own quizzical eyebrow to the problem.

At that moment a V formation of light aircraft zoomed low over mainstreet, banners advertising the car show billowing behind them. 

“Com’on Dad,” Scott folded his arms, “your fingerprints are all over this.”

Jeff started to look a little guilty. Well Virgil wasn’t having any of that, he elbowed through to get closer to his father. 

“Tell them Dad,” he rested one hand on his fathers shoulder, offering some physical support,  and tried not to think about how much reduced it felt under his palm. 

“Well, look boys, I don’t want this to come off as all about me, you see. This is something for the town, and I may have helped them along a bit, but the spark was there all along and will carry on without me. I just wanted to help, to be…. Useful.” his shoulders slumped just a little, probably only noticeable to Virgil where his hand still hovered. 

Scott's defensive stance softened, he wasn’t going to start judging anyone for wanting to prove their worth, but it was unlikely he had ever expected to see if from the Great Jeff Tracy. It was enough to rock a few foundations. 

Jeff carried on, clearly wanting to get all the information across before anyone could dwell on that omission of weakness. He outlined his plans and his hopes and the contingency plans to the contingency plans. The tentative framework he had set out which would hopefully offer a step up that could allow Mike and his brother to grow and reach their potential. Just like with the town, it would be their own drive and ability that would see them succeed, that didn’t mean a little helping hand here and there wouldn’t help grease the wheels?” 

Gordon was practically welling up by the point Jeff concluded his monologue, he moved in for his own hug, but was usurped by a short old lady in heavily starched denim coveralls, white hair pulled back in a harsh braid, but topped with a cheery red polka dot headscarf as a nod to the festivities. She barged her way straight into Jeffs personal bubble, accusatory finger raised to jab at his chest.

Virgil recognised the Battleaxe from the other day, and was instantly conflicted. He wanted to protect his father, but at the same time their grandmother had been very convincing on the brain washing that one ought to respect little old ladies. The resulting confusion held him back for long enough that Annie could raise the hand from point and instead smack Jeff heartily on the shoulder.

“You soft hearted fool!” she crowed even as Jeff was raising his arms to deflect further blows upon his person. “You’ve done all this, just to help the town, I was sure there was something in it for you, but no, you are just a soft hearted, weak sap of a man!” she cackled and smacked his arm in what, it was becoming clear, she considered a jovial manner. “I should’a never doubted you!” one final smack and she carried on her way down the sidewalk.

They were all left open mouthed and speechless as they watched her walk away.

Turning, Virgil spotted Mike, he had been standing just behind Jeff. How much of the sales pitch would he have heard?

Mike blinked, and seeming to have reached a conclusion, took a step towards Jeff. Only slightly daunted to be the centre of attention for the group of men surrounding him too.

He cleared his throat with a cough: “We didn’t ask for no charity.” It was said with finality, a statement, the punctuation audible.

Jeff's polished veneer shifted, he knew what it was like to have nothing but your pride, and by god you were never going to lose that while you still had blood in your veins. It hurt to see someone so young trying to push against the world and make a space for themselves and their family. Jeff glanced at Scott, he knew they still needed to deal with the after effects the weight of that mantle had had on his eldest. There never seemed to be the right time, and today was no exception. Right now he needed to make things right with Mike, he couldn't let the young man shoot this opportunity in the foot before it had even had a chance.

Jeff took a deep breath and looked into Mike's eyes.

“It’s not charity,” he said, in the same level tone.  “you’ve got to put the grunt work in, it's you that’ll make it. This, this is all just letting someone, hopefully if we’re lucky, the right someone see what is already here.” He paused for just a beat because this had to hit right. “You’ve got something, kid, and you deserve the chance.”

Mike remained silent, considering what he had heard with calm consideration.

Virgil held his breath.

Mike gave Jeff a firm nod, then held out his hand. “So long as that's clear.”  And when Jeff gladly shook his hand, encasing it in both of his own, Mike continued. “An’ if you're lookin’ on buyin’ the other plot, don't let Derek push you on the value, I got him down less 20% when I looked into buyin’ it, he starts high and edges his bets, but the surveys on that land are all lapsed an’ access would take a fair amount of dirt shiftin’.”

Jeff recovered from his surprise admirably quickly, and simply shook the hand he still had imprisoned that bit harder.

“Yeah, kid, you'll go far! Let's get a meeting in with you, me and the land agent, I think it might be beneficial for all.” releasing Mikes hand, Jeff clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder and steered the pair of them down the sidewalk. 

Gordon was still standing with his hands half raised from his failed attempt at a hug. Virgil took pity and enveloped him in a crushing hug, leaning back enough to lift his brothers feet off the ground of a second 

“Have we just been ditched?” Gordon asked, slightly muffled from where he was smooshed by the hug.

“Certainly looks that way,” mused Scott, hooking his thumbs into his jeans pockets and casting his gaze up the street. 

“I’d be more worried that we’ve been replaced,”  John said, nudging Scott with an elbow and directing his attention to the cotton candy seller a few hundred yards away. Scott might have looked just he was just staring broodingly off towards the horizon, but John knew what his hollow legged brother was really looking for. Scott nodded his thanks and then tried to subtly edge himself in that direction. 

“Replaced?” Alan asked, still watching their father retreat up the sidewalk. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Virgil soothed, having released Gordon, with a final head pat. 

“Think about it though,” Gordon picked up the idea, “He’s been trying to find his niche again. He’s come back and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. When he left Alan still needed help reaching high shelves….oh no, wait, he still does…never mind!” Virgil wedged himself in the way of Alan's enraged trajectory, holding him and Gordon apart at arms length.

“He’s got a point though,” John took hold of the conversational baton. “Not about the short thing,” John clarified as Alan glared and looked like he was considering redirecting his aggression. “I think Dad needs to feel needed.”

“We need him!” Alan protested.

“I know. But not really in a practical sense anymore. Don’t you see it? What do you do if you break something at home?” John directed his question at Alan.

“Ummm, make sure Gordon gets the blame?” Alan mumbled.

“Hey!” and this time Virgil was holding Gordon back from Alan.

“You go to Virgil, don’t you? Yes.” John carried on, realising he was going to have to provide the answers if he was going to get any sensible responses. “Just like you call me when you’re stuck on your homework.”

“And call Scott if we need bail money,” Gordon added. 

“Exactly!” John was warming to his theme. 

“Huh?” Scott raised his head from the cloud of cotton candy he had somehow managed to procure without anyone noticing. 

“Dad needs this practical outlet, he gets twitchy if he hasn’t got anything practical to do. Just like why Scott sprained his ankle last month.”

Virgil audibly groaned at the memory. 

“And we all know he loves us,” John concluded, “he’s just not quite ready for sudoku and carpet slippers yet.” 

“When did you get so smart,” Scott said, sounding a little misty eyed, he looped his free arm over John’s shoulder and mussed up his hair to create a distraction. John visibly winced away from sugar sticky fingers. It was almost possible to see the moment where John forcibly reminded himself that he did indeed love his brothers, and then take a deep breath before following through on the muscle reflex which would have had him smacking his brother in the face. 

Instead he corrected his brother, which always made him feel better, “I’ve always been smart and you know it, now get off, before I exceed the recommended daily sugar allowance by osmosis.” 

“That's a lotta big words, Johnny, have some candy.” Scott mushed a wisp of pink sugar towards John’s mouth.

“I hate you all,” John articulated through half a mouthful of sticky fluff. 

“We love you too,” Scott gave John one last squeeze before releasing him.

“This family needs to start developing some more normal ways of showing it cares,” Alan moaned. 

“Yeah, suddenly Dad practically adopting radomers and planning community events doesn’t seem so weird” Gordon agreed, leaning over enough to snatch some cotton candy from Scott. 

Yeah, their family might be a little unconventional, and their love languages a little skewed, but it worked for them, and quite often ended up helping those around them too. 

Once Green, the Captains (barring Xanthic and Cobalt) and the Angels (barring Symphony in Angel One) had gathered, viewed the available information, and read over the break downs provided by the analysts that Spectrum retained for situations exactly like this, they were in full agreement: it was looking bad for UnNamed, but his muck-rakers were digging and social media counterclaims were starting to surface. Those voices were currently small, but they wouldn't stay that way, not with the human predilection towards gossip and tearing others down. In addition, last night a Freedom of Information Act request had been put in for Cobalt’s medical records from the WAAF - a little tidbit that had been passed along by someone in UnName’s team having a crisis of conscience. It was a cause of concern for multiple reasons. Even though White had asked Shore to stonewall on the WASP side of things, it was only a matter of time before someone thought to make similar requests from that organisation too, and, legally speaking, they couldn’t be refused. It was only a matter of time before things were brought out to be twisted to fit UnName’s narrative.

Their final conclusion was clear: The longer UnNamed was free to act, the higher the odds of him turning the world back in his favour.

White drummed his fingers on the table as he considered his options.

The warrant for Jefferson Tracy’s arrest had finally been prepared and signed yesterday, but the wheels of justice, especially with the complex crimes the man was accused of, turned slowly. They had to attack on multiple fronts, to remove the support that would give the man the strength to fight the charges and the connections to squirm out of things. They needed the public pressure to ensure that justice was done and make him too hot to handle. This was a case that could take years to be seen through to completion should enough obstacles be thrown in the way and key persons be made to ‘vanish’ or withdraw their statements, and the man would be able to continue his campaign the entire time. If he did somehow get elected, the case could be dismissed entirely.

Complicating everything was the threat of the Mysterons. They were quiet right now, but that could change in an instant, and he hated fighting two wars at once.

Colonel White’s frown deepened as he considered alternatives, half an ear on the conversations happening around him. He could add fuel to the fire by requesting Cobalt (because the man would never allow his brothers to do so) go before the media and do an interview now. He knew that Cobalt would do it - an interview was the bait he’d dangled before Kat Cavernaugh - but doing so right now would wound him deeply. ‘Another option would be to give Scarlet an untraceable weapon and a ‘hunting licence’, but he is not ‘007’ and Spectrum does not issue a licence to kill as one sees fit. This needs to be taken care of quickly and efficiently.’ Decision made, he swept his gaze over his collected officers and tapped the table top twice to get their attention. “This needs to be escalated. UnNamed states that the report is just words, so let us have the man's own words convict him,” White declared. “Green, print out a copy of the warrant for me and have Spectrum New York arrange transportation and an investigative team. Blue, Scarlet, go pack your bullet-proofed civvies, prep an SPJ, and file a flight plan to New York. Ochre, you’re in charge until we return, maintain readiness in case of a threat.” 

“Sir?” That was Blue, head slightly tilted as he sought clarification.

“We are going to bring up the timeline. The three of us will go to New York. First thing in the morning we will pay a visit to Ms. Cavernaugh’s office and present her with evidence to damn Jeff Tracy: one of the worst of the sat phone recordings we have. Whilst it may not be admissible for the trial, we have plenty more. After that makes breaking news, we shall go to TI New York and arrest him.” A hard look was levelled at his senior officers, particularly at Scarlet. “We will execute this to the letter, gentlemen, and it will be done with strict adherence to all procedures. No ‘accidental’ shoves or trips, no whispered incendiary comments, and if he does resist arrest, only as much force as is required to contain him. There will not be a single flaw that a clever lawyer can use to dismantle all of our work and render moot all of the pain the Tracy family have gone through.” 

It was only when he got their crisp ‘yessir's that White nodded and went on to say “Remember, obliterating the myth of ‘The Great Jeff Tracy’, ruining the years of work he's put into his public image, and snatching away any chance of victory will do far worse to him than any physical pain will.” 

That got all those present exchanging looks that were distinctly Not Pleasant.