Unforgotten
AN – Thanks to all for the reviews on the last chapter! Big shout out to LMC25, JanetM74, islandsandstars and Harlow for their continued support. I hope you enjoy this as much.
Disclaimer – I don't own Thunderbirds
Chapter Forty – Inside the Lair
At the same time as John was lying on a cot in a hut in the middle of Nepal, Scott was lying on his back on a stone bed in a cell. He was alone, his father and brother housed in similar cells somewhere close by. They were close enough that he could talk to them, but Scott knew that there was a guard outside at the moment that would not hesitate to make sure they did not.
It had been a rough few days. Scott wasn't sure exactly how many days had passed since the night of Penelope's gala – he hadn't seen daylight and had no real idea of how much time had passed – but he thought it must be at least three or four by now. They had spent most of that time shut in the small rooms, the dim lights barely piercing the darkness around them.
They had to relieve themselves in pots in the corner which were changed once a day and some basic food was brought in to them, but they had generally been left alone. Scott wasn't sure what the point of it all was, he guessed they were being left to make them easier to break later but he didn't know. It was hard to stop his thoughts turning dark and morose, the only thing keeping him sane was the thought of Angel, her golden eyes shining as she descended the steps with Penelope and the scent of her hair when he woke in the morning. He knew she would be looking for him, he could feel it.
From the moment he had woken up on the plane wearing only his boxer shorts, hands bound behind his back and tied to his feet, Angel had been at the forefront of his thoughts. First he worried that she had been taken too, he knew he had been standing next to her when he fell unconscious. But a look around – or as much as he could anyway, from his position lying on his side facing the side wall of the plane, suggested that she wasn't there.
But what he had seen had made his blood run cold.
There were two other figures, positioned very similarly to himself. Their faces were turned away, but he still knew who they were. He could see the scar on his father's back from a plane crash early in his career, all the brothers had poked it at some point when they were young. He also noticed the bright boxers covered with paint brushes that the other figure was wearing, which would have identified it as Virgil even if he hadn't recognised his brother's profile.
But then someone had grabbed him and he felt the prick of a needle before darkness took him once again.
When Scott next woke, he was in the same small stone cell that he was in now. He was lying on the floor, grazes down his side where he had obviously been thrown roughly inside. His hands and feet had been cut loose but he still wasn't wearing much. Luckily the air was warm and humid, although the stone still held a chill that he could feel through the soles of his feet as he stood on it.
Along one wall of the cell was a raised stone ledge, which Scott had correctly interpreted to be a form of bed. There was no bedding to soften it and when he lay down he could feel the cold seeping into his bones. There were no windows in the cell, simply some bands of lighting that did little to actually illuminate the space. Scott had spent much of his first couple of hours pacing the cell, testing every single surface for any chink that may be to his advantage. The door was made of metal but fit snugly into the gap, there was no way it could be loosened. There was a small hole in the door at about eye level, only a foot long and a couple of inches high. There were small bars running vertically down it, Scott could only assume that it was there to enable whoever owned this place to keep an eye on the prisoners. The design of the cell, triangular in shape with a curved end where the stone bed lay, seemed designed to allow the prisoner to be in view from the door no matter where they were. It was a clever design, as it gave Scott no opportunity to take his captors by surprise.
Not that he had any chance to anyway. Whenever he saw someone, which was rare, they always had back up in the shape of a pair of guards wielding guns. And not just small pistols either, these were heavy duty semi-automatics that would send a volley of bullets straight at you but also packed a punch if you were hit with one.
Which is something Scott was all too aware of, he still had a lump on his temple from one of the guards on the first day…night? He had been venting his frustrations with a roar at the closed door, hearing a quiet "Scott?" coming from the far side.
"Virgil?" He'd responded, as close to the door as he could get, eyes peering through the gap.
"Yeah, I'm here."
"Are you ok?"
"Define ok?" Virgil had huffed in wry laughter. "Yeah, I'll survive. I feel better knowing that you're here."
"Boys?" Their father's voice had Scott trying to lean even closer to the door, even though he couldn't physically move anymore.
"Dad! Are you ok?"
"As well as can be expected. Who else did they take?"
"There was only us on the plane… I woke briefly and didn't see any others." There was a bang on the door, causing Scott to leap backwards in surprise. An unfamiliar face appeared at the hatch.
"Silence!" The man barked in a strange accent that Scott couldn't place. Scott had retreated to the stone cot and sat brooding for a while. The arrival of some basic food, just rice with a bland sauce accompanied by some milk, was an opportunity to talk to the kidnappers but they came and went in complete silence.
Eventually Scott moved back to the door. "Hey, is everyone still ok?"
"All good here, Scott," came Virgil's voice. "Although the food isn't up to much."
Scott was going to say something in agreement, when his cell abruptly opened. He stumbled backwards and was taken completely by surprise when the butt of one of the rifles caught his temple.
"Silence!" The guard reiterated, waving his gun threateningly again. Scott had merely nodded mutely and they left the cell again.
From there, there had been nothing but silence. It had left Scott with his thoughts, dark and oppressive, and he distracted himself by thinking again of Angel. He had faith in her, she would find them. At one point, at his lowest ebb, he worried that she may have been injured or worse during the kidnap attempt at the gala but he banished the thought from his mind and didn't let it stray back there.
And still the waiting continued. Scott worried about how Virgil and his father would be faring – if even he himself was succumbing to dark thoughts he thought that the others would be struggling. Unfortunately, the memory of the weight of that gun stopped him from finding out. He wasn't particularly afraid of the pain himself, but what if they turned on Virgil or his dad because of his disobedience?
Why bother taking them if they were just going to leave them in a cell? Were they going to be left to die here?
Scott was dragged from his thoughts by the sound of a bolt being drawn back. He waited expectantly but his door didn't move. On hearing the creak of an opening door elsewhere he sprinted to the window in the cell door, peering out. It was usually very dark but this time there was some light, someone had brought a torch. In the meagre light it provided Scott could see a circular area, cell doors identical to the one he was standing by surrounding a paved centre. There was a figure standing in the centre, holding a lantern up. A second figure moved forward and Scott gasped at the sight of his father.
Jeff cut his eyes immediately to the cell containing his oldest son, with a shake of his head indicating that Scott should remain silent. He flicked his eyes to the left, which told Scott that Virgil was likely in the cell next to him. Jeff himself had come out of a cell that was positioned at ninety degrees to the one Scott was in.
Immediately, knowing where his brother was made Scott feel better but there was new concern about where his father was being taken. The time that Jeff was absent was indeterminable, but Scott spent the entire time at the door waiting for him to be brought back.
But instead of Jeff coming back, Scott instead lurched backwards when his own cell door opened inwards. The guard gestured with their gun, still not saying anything but the meaning was clear. Scott followed, casting his eyes to the cell to the right and seeing a glint reflected through the cell window that suggested Virgil was there.
"It will be ok," he tried to reassure his brother, receiving a shove in the back for his efforts that caused him to stumble forwards in the darkness.
Scott wasn't given any time to get his bearings, he was kept moving through the dark corridors, often needing to use his hands for balance as he couldn't see his footing on the uneven stones.
Eventually he burst into a room filled with lights, still artificial but much brighter than anything he had seen for days. He blinked several times, trying acclimatise his eyes to the light. He managed to focus on the figure in front of him as an object was launched in his direction. Reflexively he caught it, seeing a shapeless grey top. He looked up to see Ethan Grey smirking at him.
His first instinct was to run forwards and pummel the smirk from his face but he forced himself to take a moment and assess where he was. He was glad he did. The room was large and ornate, it would not have looked out of place in a palace or similar. There were several large stone pillars that held up the roof, standing in the shadows of these pillars were a multitude of armed men. His father, wearing a simple grey shirt that Scott assumed was identical to the one he'd just been thrown, was tied up to one of these pillars. His hands were chained above his head although his ankles looked free.
As Scott noted the situation, he found himself forced to tug the shirt on over his head by a pair of men who flanked him. He himself was then marched over to one of the pillars and chained in an identical manner to his father.
"What do you want?" He spat in Ethan's direction. Ethan did nothing but smirk, but a second voice spoke up.
"What does anyone want? Money and power of course. You hold the key to both."
Scott craned his neck but couldn't get a good view of the speaker. "Who are you?"
An amused chuckle rang through the room as slowly a figure stepped out of the shadows. The man was large, easily as tall as Scott but much more solidly built. He was bald but with striking dark eyebrows that gave his face a hooded appearance. His eyes, shadowed in his face, were full of cunning and intelligence. Scott immediately knew this man was responsible for their kidnap and that he was running the show. The man's next words confirmed his suspicions.
"I am reliably informed that you know me as the Hood. An amusing moniker, to be sure."
His accent was strong and Scott couldn't place it. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach as he watched the Hood smile slowly, he was unnerved by him and the Hood knew it.
"Well, as we are having such a nice family reunion, it would seem only fair to bring your brother up. After all, you have been resting in our cells long enough." He clicked his fingers and one of his guards scurried away. Scott stole a glance at his father who was watching impassively. Scott knew his father well though and there were infinitesimal signs that told Scott how worried Jeff was.
Jeff's eyes turned to Scott as he felt his eldest's gaze. Scott tried to convey his concern for his father in his gaze, a minute nod from Jeff signalling that he was ok - well as much as could be expected.
Both immediately focussed on the third prisoner brought into the room. Scott felt fury well inside of him, Virgil looked gaunt and stressed. It was clear that in the silent solitude he hadn't been coping as well as they had – maybe not surprising given their different personalities and training.
Like the others before him, he was given a short to pull on and tied up on a pillar next to Scott. Scott turned to face his brother. "Are you ok?"
Virgil shrugged. "As well as I can be. You?"
"Now, now," the Hood was back, grinning at them cruelly. "No talk, please. I would really rather not have to silence you permanently, it makes such a stain on the paving. Now Jeff, I can call you Jeff can't I? We're practically old acquaintances by now. Anyway, Jeff, I would like to know how I can access the designs for your remarkable Thunderbird craft."
Jeff looked at the Hood scornfully. "As if I would tell you."
The Hood merely shrugged. "Well at least you aren't denying you are the head of International Rescue. It would be rather pointless, given my insider information." He wept an arm over to the still smirking Ethan and Scott ground his teeth in the memory of the torture John had endured to provide Ethan with that information. "It does show that you are a man of some intellect, which is always preferable over dealing with morons. Still, I'm sure you will eventually come around to my point of view. But first…" The Hood snapped his fingers and a large screen came down from the ceiling in full view of all three prisoners.
The Hood just watched as images were displayed on the screen, images of them all in their cells wearing only their underwear, of them tied up to the pillars as they currently were and then one of Scott with blood running from his temple shortly after he had received the blow to the head. "I think this will get your brothers' notice, yes?" The Hood mused, seeming to enjoy himself as he flicked through image after image. "Gag them." He instructed and Scott found himself choking around a cloth that was forcibly shoved into his mouth and tied around the back of his head. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Virgil and his dad being given the same treatment.
The Hood inspected them, lingering over Scott's the longest. "Excellent," he murmured before bringing a small communicator up to his mouth.
"Calling International Rescue, come in International Rescue."
Scott felt the blood drain from his face, a glance at his father showed Jeff's worried expression. There was no answer to the call. The Hood sighed. "Calling International Rescue, I have information on your missing operatives."
The worry in Jeff's face only solidified as clipped British tones answered the call. "I'm terribly sorry, but International Rescue isn't taking calls at this moment."
"You will want to take this call," the Hood growled down the line. "Unless you would rather I returned the missing men in pieces."
There was a pause on the end of the line, where Scott was hoping that Penelope would go to fetch John or Gordon at a push. Instead, she responded herself. "I very much doubt that you called us to tell us that you were returning them in pieces. Tell me, what do you want?"
"I am glad I am talking to someone of sense," the Hood purred to her down the line. A slight noise had Scott turning to watch his brother, he could see the fury on Virgil's face and his tightly clenched hands. Immediately, despite the inappropriateness of the setting, a lot of pieces dropped into place in Scott's mind.
"What I would like is access to the Thunderbird machines," the Hood was telling Penelope. "And, of course, financial recompense for their safe return. I think a billion dollars per person should cover it, hm?"
There was a pause. "I'm sure you realise that is not possible." Penelope stated matter of factly. "We simply do not have those kind of resources and, in any case, we refuse to negotiate with kidnappers."
The only sign that the Hood was annoyed was the tightening of his grip on the communicator. "I think I have some things to send you that will change your mind. I will transmit them via this frequency and contact you in six hours. Either you will have the money and machines ready for me, or I will be forced to get… creative." He closed the communicator, nodding to one of his men lurking in the shadows.
That done, he walked back to the hostages. "Such a shame, she started so promisingly but the conversation deteriorated." He sighed melodramatically. "I suppose I should be grateful, I was looking forwards to the persuasion techniques." He looked at Jeff. "I don't suppose you will save me the trouble and provide me with the information I desire?" Jeff's stony silence answered for him.
"Very well then. Ethan," at his name the man stood forwards, an eager grin on his face. "When the six hours is up, you will get your wish. The dark haired one will be yours to play with." Ethan rubbed his hands together gleefully, eyes boring into Scott's. Scott tried to suppress the uneasiness, knowing that whatever Ethan had planned would not be good for him.
