CHUPACABRA
Before there were rescues, there were hunts. Scott and Virgil seek out a mysterious threat to their family.
In the eyes of an outsider, it would appear to be the oddest sight in the world: two inquisitive eyes peering past the corner of the house, with great caution equivalent to that of fugitives being hunted by police. However, it wasn't the vigilant gazes that could be categorized as unusual, but rather the bizarre choice of artillery. A young, seven-year-old Scott Tracy towered over his brother, his hand reaching to readjust the cooking pot placed on his head as a makeshift helmet.
Virgil had trouble seeing past the steel pot on his head, though. Both his hands remained glued to his headwear to keep the utensil from falling over his eyes and obscuring his view, though his shaggy hair managed to do just that anyway. "Scotty, why'd we gotta wear Gramma's pots?" he inquired with a slight whimper, his hand temporarily removed from the steel to brush aside a lock of hair in his eyes.
His reply was a sharp hiss on his older brother's behalf, reminding him to lower his voice. Virgil sulked his shoulders in shame, but continued speaking in a voice just above a whisper as he readjusted the metal egg beater tied to his waist. "She's gonna get mad at us again and then we're not gonna get dessert when she finds out we're using her stuff."
Scott stiffened slightly at the mention of the possible punishment, but kept his brave and omniscient façade. "We don't want our brains to be sucked out now, do we?" he stated as-a-matter-of-factly as he waved a metal spatula, his well-thought-out weapon of choice, around for emphasis.
He took his little brother's worried silence as an affirmative, returning his gaze out past the house and into the cluster of large bushes at the front. The leafy bushes had always held his deepest fascination; so many secrets could be concealed within the shadows, secrets that lead to stories, and stories that lead to treasure. But today, the bushes proved not to be an X on the treasure map, much to Scott's dismay. The leaves shuffled uncomfortably, feeling the fixed gazes upon them.
Virgil's eyes widened as his hand left the pot/helmet once again to clutch onto his older brother's sleeve in fear. "Scott... it moved!"
"I saw, I saw! It's hungry or something." Aiming the spatula in the direction of the bushes with an extended arm, Scott slowly advanced towards the target, one overly-cautious step at a time as his younger brother watched with great admiration and fear. "Cover me, Virgie!"
"Cover you with what?"
"... Just watch my back."
The objective was clear: Scott needed to protect his family. This was no time to cower in fear and run to Daddy, who could easily shoo away the boogeyman and closet monsters alike with his godly powers, exerted by an effortless dismissing wave of the hand. With yet another delivery from the stork on the way, Scott felt the overwhelming need to be the guardian when his father was out of town, which unfortunately, was often.
"Scott! Virgil! Lunchtime!"
The kitchen utensil weapons and armor were dropped to the ground as if they were lit on fire, followed by the pitter-patter of feet scattering quickly into the house and down the hall. The guardian business would have to wait until after lunch. Hey, heroes need to eat, too.
Baby John sat in his highchair, amusing himself with the tin cup in his hand. He had discovered that whenever the cup was dropped, colliding with the table, it would make the most wonderfully loud noise that made both his mother and his grandmother cringe. Giggling after ever warning glare his mother shot in his direction, it was a quick blink of an eye before John's new toy was confiscated by Lucille, leaving the poor child staring at his empty hands in confusion.
Placing the cup back on the counter, Lucille turned to Grandma and placed a hand on her large stomach. "Where are the boys, Mrs. Tracy?" she questioned, taking the bowl of baby food in her hands and shuffling back towards the table where John sat, who was still staring at his tiny empty hands in disbelief.
"Outside wrecking havoc, no doubt," Grandma snorted as she placed the freshly made sandwiches onto the plate. "They've enough energy to power one of Jeff's little rocket ships!" She made her way towards the table, placing the plates in their respective spots before calling the two children at the top of her lungs.
"Scott! Virgil! Lunchtime!"
It was a well-timed five seconds after Grandma had called them that the scampering footsteps were heard down the hall, and another two seconds for the two to be found seated at the table, washed up and already taking giant greedy mouthfuls of their food. Lucille blinked, tilting her head slightly in disbelief, before turning her attention back to attempt feeing John. "So what did you boys do today?" she asked, raising a spoon to John's lips, stubbornly pressed together.
"Re rer hurmfing!" Virgil piped up happily, crumbs spilling from his mouth as he spoke. Unfortunately, this resulted in a quick and not-so-subtle elbow jab in the stomach by his older brother, causing poor Virgil to spray more loose crumbs before him from the sudden attack. "Hey!"
"What did I tell you about talking with your mouth full, young man?" Grandma returned in a stern tone, sitting down across from the boys with her own plate before her.
Ignoring the death glares from Scott, Virgil swallowed his food and repeated his words. "Momma, we were hunting!"
John avoided the spoonful of baby food with great expertise, but Lucille remained persistent. "What were you hunting, Virgie?" she said half-heartedly, sighing in frustration.
"The abracadab -- Oof! Momma, Scotty hit me again!"
"You're not s'posed to tell, bigmouth!"
"Scott, don't hit your younger brother."
"He started it."
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Mom, Scott's being a big stupidhea -- Ow! No hitting!"
Grandma frowned, quickly cutting into the argument before it drove the bystanders to the brink of insanity. "What were you looking for, dear?" she repeated the question in a steady tone, her eyes falling upon Scott for a response.
Nobody could deny Grandma. Everyone knew better than to refute when she's giving you 'the look.' Squirming slightly under the uncomfortable gaze, Scott metaphorically raised the white flag in surrender, placing the half-devoured sandwich back onto the plate and swallowing before he spoke. "Virgil and I were trying to find the Chupacabra."
The two adults exchanged curious glances, the task of feeding John temporarily forgotten. The baby seemed to have noticed the sudden shift of attention towards his brothers, and gave a sad pout in neglect as Scott spoke again. "The Chupacabra is an alien we learned about in class yesterday. He sucks the blood out of goats and chickens and stuff when no one's watching. Adrian told me today that it could also suck your brains out through your ear so we have to stop him before he attacks."
"It's got spikes on his back and has wings to fly around to catch his food and stuff! He got big bulgy eyes like a bug that could see you from a zillion miles away," Virgil piped in, his fingers pulling his eyelids open wide for emphasis.
Unfortunately, all his wide eyes could see was the odd expression etched on his mother's face. Virgil, though still relatively young, had a great talent for reading facial expressions. His artistic eye would often pick up small but important details that others would miss, and this helped him in deciphering the emotions on his parents' faces. A twitch in his father's eye during conversation was a warning that he needed to be left alone, and the pursing of his mother's lips indicated indecision (and usually was followed by continuous peer pressure from the children until her final decision favored the little ones). Right now, Virgil's senses hinted that maybe this whole alien hunting mission should have stayed top secret.
"And where were you going to find this... uh, creature?" Grandma questioned with genuine curiosity.
"I saw it in the hedges out front lotsa times before," Scott replied. "It lives in the bushes, maaaan."
Lucille's eyes quickly met that of Grandma's once again before returning her attention to Scott with an unusual expression on her face. "Aliens don't exist, honey. And even if they did, they wouldn't live in the bushes, and they wouldn't suck out your brains."
"But it'd still suck your blood," Scott pointed out. Looking up before his mother could say anything, he opened his mouth and spoke, pushing the plate away from him. "I had a big breakfast and I'm not hungry. Can I go outside and play?"
"Me too?" Virgil said, swallowing the last bite of his sandwich and pushing his plate aside as he subtly wiped his hands on his shirt.
Sighing deeply, his mom gave a slow nod. "Alright." Before Scott and Virgil could dash off out of the kitchen, Lucille managed to squeeze in a few more words. "But only under one condition." Reaching out and lifting John from his high chair, she let him down to waddle happily towards his two brothers at the doorway, who were both wide-eyed in confusion. "You have to take Johnny with you."
Scott's jaw almost hit the ground. "But he's just a baby, and we're on a highly dangerous mission—"
A sharp glare from his mother silenced him immediately. "No, you're not, because you're not going to be chasing aliens anymore. I trust you two will take very good care of Johnny, is that right?"
His eyes drifting towards the tiled floor, a murmur of agreement from Scott was her reply. Virgil quickly took John's hand in his own as the three of them trudged back out into the warmth of the afternoon sun, with a new dilemma in the form of an energized toddler to add to their existing one.
With what seemed like hours of meticulous thought and complex 2nd grade calculations, Scott suddenly pushed himself to his feet, his eyes bright and wide with a new discovery. "I've got it!"
The abrupt outburst almost sent John tumbling backwards, having found a new amusing interest in spinning around in one spot as Virgil watched. His eyes turned momentarily away from John, Virgil tilted his head slightly as he replied to his older brother. "What did you get?"
"Bait."
Blinking, Virgil was slightly confused and decided to let Scott continue before he threw any questions towards him.
"We don't want to go into the bushes, because it'll attack. We need it to come out to us. The Chupacabra drinks blood, so we'll need something to make him want to come towards us. Bait." His stare turned towards John in the distance, who suddenly fell over backwards right on cue. A small giggle escaped the child's lips as he rolled over and scrambled back onto his feet, completely oblivious that he was about to become a sacrifice.
Virgil, however, wasn't as sure about this idea as his brother. "Momma wanted us to look after Johnny, not give him to Chup for lunch. Besides, no more alien hunting!"
A quick rustle in the bushes in front of them followed almost immediately after he finished his sentence. All three of the Tracy boys turned and stared. A long silence fell between the brothers, broken by Scott clearing his throat after what seemed like hours. He walked over towards John and swept him up effortlessly, placing him closer to the bushes. "We're not alien hunting anymore, we're protecting ourselves," he answered as-a-matter-of-factly as he placed a large metal sieve over his little brother's head. "And Johnny here's gonna help us. He's not gonna be eaten, we'll clobber it before it gets to him."
Before Virgil could open his mouth and protest, he found himself wielding one of Grandma's pots once again, with a confused John sitting by himself on the lawn while Scott (with a metal pot of his own) carefully plotted out the details of the plan. "Follow my lead," he hissed loudly towards his younger brother, slowly creeping up towards the bushes with the weapon raised above his head.
John blinked, looking past the sieve on his head directly at his two brothers with big blue eyes, completely unaware of the dire situation.
As Scott and Virgil stood beside the bushes, Grandma's pots clutched in their grip and ready to take action, they exchanged quick reassuring glances. There would be no turning back now. The rustling happened again, and Virgil raised his metal pot high above his head.
That was one part of the plan that Scott had not anticipated. The sun's reflection off Virgil's weapon shined directly into his eye, and with an annoyed grunt, Scott raised his hand to block off the glare. It was in that short moment that everything happened.
A loud, high-pitched shriek of terror – from John, it appeared – followed by an unfamiliar noise. A growl? A snarl? Whatever it was, it wasn't from his brothers. It was the Chupacabra.
Scott forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly as his vision adjusted from pitch black, to shades of fluorescent purple and with speckles of green, and finally to the multi-colored world he was familiar with. However, what he saw almost floored him. John continued his frightened cries, his eyes fixed on Virgil and the small foreign creature that had somehow latched itself onto the poor boy's head.
Virgil did the first thing that came to his mind: he panicked, flailed his arms about as his weapon was no where to be found, and screamed louder than John. "SCOTT!" he yelled on top of his lungs, his voice muffled by the knotted fur of the beast. "IT'S EATING MY BRAINS!"
Hero/protective-older-brother mode flicked on instinctively. Scott leapt towards Virgil, pinning him to the ground as he wrapped his two hands around the creature. With a forceful tug, he pulled the monster from his brother's head and flung it a great distance aside. The beast made an odd noise as it was airborne, but Scott didn't watch to see where it had landed. His attention was all on his younger brother, who clutched his face in reflex as he collapsed onto the ground, curling up.
"Virgie! Are you okay?!"
The younger Tracy let out an undignified sob, sitting back up as he pulled his hands from his face to reveal trickles of blood from the creature's claws digging into his skin. "I don't want to die, Scott!" he shrieked.
Quickly sweeping the crying John into his arms before making his way over to Virgil, he took his hand and looked him directly in the eye. "You're not going to die. We're gonna go get Momma to look at you and it's gonna be okay."
Sniffling, Virgil's eyes met his brother's, squeezing his hand tightly. "But what about Chup?"
Scott shrugged, turning around and heading back towards the house. "It's probably dead. If not, I don't think it'll come back to our place."
Lucille and Grandma asked no questions that evening. That incident was never spoke of again between the brothers.
Virgil stretched lazily as he stepped into the kitchen. It wasn't like him to have insomnia, especially after a rescue, but lately his thoughts have been so cluttered that sleep was the last thing on his mind. A mug of warm milk in his hand and one of Grandma's homemade cookies in the other, he left the dark kitchen and entered the shadows of the living room.
John's eyes on the portrait caught his attention as he walked by. Not that they were lit-up or anything. He was the Tracy brother he spent the least amount of time with, and as much as he would have liked to change this, it proved difficult with his duties up in Thunderbird 5. Glancing quickly at the clock, Virgil wondered if his brother was still awake.
Taking a seat at the desk, he decided to contact his brother, awake or not. His father usually disapproved of using International Rescue channels for anything outside of business, but Virgil figured what he didn't know couldn't be harmful. After all, it would only be a few moments.
John's face replaced the portrait when the connection was established. "What's up, base?" he said brightly, despite the hour of night.
Virgil was amazed at how his brother always seemed attentive and well-rested. "Mornin'," he said, raising his mug towards the monitor in a toast.
"And a good morning to you too, Virge," John smiled warmly. "What can I do for you?"
"Can't sleep. Wanted to talk to someone who wasn't asleep either."
Crossing his arms across his chest, John gave a look of defiance before he spoke. "And how did you know I wasn't asleep? It's 2am after all. And Father will kill you if he finds out you're hogging a channel for meaningless chit-chat."
"He won't find out. And you're not asleep because you're talking to me now, aren't you?" Virgil laughed. "I rarely talk to you anymore. I mean, really talk, you know? And this is the only time it could happen."
He dignified the response with a curt nod. "Yeah, I know what you mean. But what's bothering you, man?"
Swinging his feet up onto the table, Virgil stared off as he entered his deep thoughts. "I know this may sound completely insane and childish, but lately I've had this reoccurring dream – or nightmare, if you please – about... well, aliens. And, to put it bluntly, they're set on sucking brains out of their victims."
John had to cover his mouth for the sake of being polite to prevent a laugh from escaping. "I'm sorry, but how old are you again? Twenty-seven, going on six?"
"You're lucky you're a million miles away, otherwise I would have thrown something at you by now."
The blonde quickly sobered and put on a thoughtful façade, which turned genuine after a few moments of running through his own memory. "You know, I have this vision..." John started, scratching his head slightly. "Well, it's not entirely a vision, more like a flashback, of you with this oversized hairball-type creature stuck on your face."
Virgil's eyes lit up. "Actually, I vaguely remember that day," he said, swinging his feet off from the table and sitting up straight. "What was that thing anyway?"
Furrowing his brow in thought, John looked away briefly, as if searching deep within his memory for the answer. "You know, this was long ago. I don't even remember why or how it happened in the first place, but now that I think of it, I'm pretty sure it was a fat, grey cat."
It was Virgil's turn to laugh, covering his mouth to keep from waking the rest of the home. When he finally did recover, a large grin remained on his face as he spoke, "Do me a favor, Johnny. Don't tell Scott. He doesn't need to know."
He donned a confused look on his face, but as usual, John thought it was better not to ask. "Alright, mum's the word. Anything else I can do for you?"
"Yeah, get some sleep. Though you probably never sleep, do you? And you still always look bright-eyed and ready to go." Virgil rolled his eyes slightly at the remark. "How do you do it?"
John smiled smugly. "Magic."
"You probably do cocaine or something," he snorted in reply. "I'll see you in a few weeks, John." Virgil returned the smile, giving a quick salute.
"FAB, Virge. Oh yeah, and lay off Grandma's cookies, you're starting to look like a boat." And with that, the connection was closed, and Virgil was left once again alone in the darkness. However, this time he had a new revelation to accompany him. Of course, he wouldn't tell Scott that it wasn't an alien they were hunting; he loved seeing the eldest Tracy brother fidgety every time they take on a space mission.
Laughing quietly to himself, Virgil made his way back to his chambers to get the good night's sleep that he deserved.