I'm late! I'm late! For a Whump-tober date! No time to edit, we post like mne! I'm late! I'm late! I'm late! Sorry guys... -_-
DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.
WARNING!: These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!
Of all the places to get lost, it had to be the desert.
Scott hated the desert.
Most would argue that he would be accustomed to blistering heat and blinding sunshine, but as he would argue. A tropical island had a monsoon season, and generally was a lot wetter than miles of sand. He grumbled, kicking the sand at his feet and mumbling a curse about it getting into his boots.
Why did people think it was a good idea to go treasure hunting in the middle of nowhere? At least he was closing in on the signal. After a thorough lecture about desert safety and a long drink of water, Scott couldn't wait to head back to the island. For once, he would be glad if it was still raining when he returned.
Alright, so just around this dune should be…
A box. Specifically a metal box. Blasting out a distress signal going straight to his comm. Scott's brow furrowed as he gave the item a light tap with the toe of his boot.
It didn't explode. Good start. He crouched down, carefully picking the item up, turning it over in his palms.
"I found the source of the distress signal, Thunderbird Five."
Silence. Strange, but not unusual. John was probably helping Virgil with his own rescue.
"Looks like some kind of transmitter. Looks like there's no one else around."
Scott stood. Just then, the box made a miserable whirr. And just as soon as it started, the distress signal stopped.
Scott was suddenly aware of the low purr resounding through the sand, a distant rumble that was as familiar as his own voice. He whipped around, dropping the transmitter as feet pounded back the way he came. Fingers fumbled with his comm as he skidded down a sizeable sand dune.
"Thunderbird Five! What's going on?"
Scott's comm crackled, fizzing and popping as it fought for a connection. Scott growled, turning on his heel to skirt around another dune.
"John! What's happening? Talk to me! Thunderbird Five!"
Thunderbird One was in sight. Her silvery hull gleaming in the scorching heat, like a beacon to an oasis in miles of sand. She promised shelter, protection.
And her engines were just starting to kick in as Scott hurried towards her.
"John!" He shouted one final time, scrambling to try and reverse the commands. It was then that a low chuckle echoed through his comm, cold and haunting and oh-so-familiar.
"I'm afraid your dear brother is a little busy right now." A devilishly smooth voice taunted him. Scott stopped dead in his tracks.
"The Hood." He growled. A wave of brotherly instinct, worry and rage tore across his stomach. "What have you done with John?"
"I haven't done anything with him." The Hood answered innocently. Scott could almost feel the catlike grin on his enemy's features, yellow eyes gleaming as he continued. "But I do believe my Havoc was responsible for giving his little friend a bug."
Scott's blood ran cold as his eyes widened. EOS. John had explained how after the escapade at the global seed vault, Havoc had somehow corrupted her systems. A simple virus presenting itself as a cold, he had said. She'll recover, she always does.
But if she hadn't… If that virus had spread… John was all alone up there with her. She was in every inch of Thunderbird Five's systems, including life support and communications. Come to think of it, John had been suspiciously quiet over the last few hours. Scott hadn't thought anything of it, they were all out on missions, maybe he was helping one of the others.
"Oh god…"
"He's alive. For now." The Hood purred lowly, his voice resounding in Scott's ears. "Which is more than can be said for you."
The ground rumbled, dust and sand whipping around as Thunderbird One hovered in position, cockpit open and pilot's seat waiting. Scott snapped back to reality, charging towards his bird as his boots sunk into the sand.
"EOS. How long can a man survive in a desert with no supplies?" The Hood continued in his ear.
"Without food or water, and insufficient shelter. Three days." EOS's voice was icier than usual, lacking it's usual teasing tone. She listed the facts plainly, like reading the back of a cereal box. Detached. Uncaring.
"Three days." The Hood mused aloud, laughter bubbling up over the comms. "Let's see how long you last, Scott Tracy. See you in three days."
"Nonononono- Wait! Stop!"
It was no use. His ship, his Thunderbird. His pride and joy and grief and anger, did not heed his call. His fingers brushed the footrests as they lifted out of reach, safely sealed behind impenetrable glass. Scott braced himself against the fierce blast of smoke and wind as Thunderbird One rose up into the sky. It turned, as if to give one last look to its former master, before the main rocket activated. With a great resounding boom, Thunderbird One tore across the sky and over the horizon.
Scott watched helplessly and faintly wondered if John was feeling a little hopeless too.
