Chapter 110.

"I'll kill him."

"Good for you."

"No, seriously. I'm actually going to kill him."

"A capital idea."

"Say your goodbyes now, because I'm literally going to end his life."

"Wonderful."

"You think I'm joking. I'm not. I may save lives, but I'm not above ending one if necessary."

"Amazing."

"I've already planned the burial spot. I just need to get my hands on a shovel."

"Magnifique."

"Virgil, stop being a smartass."

The crunching of snow underfoot paused momentarily as Virgil stopped to glare at John, but resumed after it became apparent the redhead was in no mood for humour. The ass smack(s) he'd been forced to endure less than an hour ago were still souring his mood, despite Virgil's proclamations that they'd been one hundred percent medically necessary.

Medically necessary his ass.

Literally.

Gordon and Alan were loitering a couple of yards behind their big brothers as they all made their way to the Eaglecrest Ski Area. It was short commute across the Gastineau Chanel from Juneau, and Virgil had (rather foolishly), volunteered to carry all of their equipment. A trip by car would have shortened the journey from Downtown Juneau to just fifteen minutes, but alas, the only vehicle the brothers were in possession of was a honkin' big green bathtub. They hadn't brought any of Two's modules with them, so couldn't configure a Sherpa pod to hasten the journey (much to John's frustration). At least the clear mountain air offered some respite from the stuffiness of their cabin.

Virgil was contentedly taking in the panoramic mountain views, while Gordon and Alan indulged in a snowball fight in-between bouts of walking. They'd tried to rope the older two into their little game, but had ceased when John had shot them a glare that expertly bridged the gap between disgust and disbelief.

They'd left Celery back at the cabin with her tube of tennis balls. Surprisingly, Gordon had put up no resistance when John had informed him that the little mutt would be unable to accompany them. No doubt delayed punishment for the ass smack.

The Carrot forgave, but he never forgot.

Virgil felt a frown infect his face as he glanced over his shoulder to see Gordon and Alan with their heads together, whispering like a couple of teenage sisters. They'd been inseparable ever since the little fiasco at the ice rink, and Virgil couldn't help but wonder if they were plotting something. John was far too engrossed in his revenge fantasies to notice the behaviour of his younger brothers, but Virgil was the observant one of the family. Gordon and Alan were basically the younger equivalent of him and Scott, and this sudden comradery could only mean one thing: a scheme was afoot.

Five more minutes of brooding (John), spying (Virgil) and conspiring (Alan and Gordon) ensued before the group reached the Eaglecrest basecamp. John and Alan were quick to relieve Virgil of the items that belonged to them, however were forced to abort their suiting up efforts when Gordon tanked off across the carpark to help a pregnant woman load some bags into her car.

"Here, let me get those for you," the aquanaut offered, presenting a pair of well-toned arms, "You look tired."

"Thank you so much," the woman gushed, one hand on her back as she struggled to catch her breath, "I think I may have bought one too many souvenirs for my niece and nephew!"

Gordon smiled and began loading boxes and bags of various sizes into the woman's trunk. A couple of seconds passed before the tell-tale sound of crunching snow announced the arrival of his equally well-trained brothers.

"Are you with someone?" John asked, taking careful note of the woman's flushed face and laboured breathing, "One of us can escort you back to your accommodation if you need help?"

The woman waved a dismissive hand, "My husband had a business conference in Juneau this morning, so I headed up here by myself to do a bit of shopping and sight-seeing. He's meeting me in town for an early dinner and I have a coffee in the car, so should be fine. Thank you for the offer though. I wish more people were as courteous as you lot."

"It's nothing," Gordon breezed, helping himself to all of the credit when it became obvious that there weren't enough bags left for all his brothers to lend a hand, "We're happy to help. It's kind of what we do."

"Well, keep doing it," the woman instructed, opening the driver's door and blushing slightly when Gordon held it open for her, "You might just save a life one day."

Four knowing looks were exchanged, but it was only a group of waving males of varying heights the woman saw in her rear-view mirror as she reversed up and drove away.

"The squid-sense does more than just predict seaquakes," Gordon swanked, smiling cockily as he relieved Virgil of the bag containing his snow gear, "Face it, I'm the epitome of chivalry."

John let out a snort that nearly started an avalanche.

"You're the reason the gene pool needs a lifeguard."

-x-

Virgil couldn't help but wonder why nothing ever went smoothly for his family.

Like, nothing.

Like, ever.

They'd changed into their winter gear, left their things in a couple of rented lockers, then started the trek up to Pittman's Ridge. A local had divulged that it made an excellent vantage point, and combined with EOS's thermal scans, the four brothers were positive they'd be able to locate Scott and Kayo from their new alpine outlook.

Except it hadn't gone that smoothly. Oh no, siree. First, they'd had to deal with Gordon getting his coat stuck in the turnstile gate at the chairlift terminal.

The entire scene had raised a number of health and safety issues that the ruddy-faced resort managers had gone away to 'investigate'. The gates were impossibly close to the drive terminal's bullwheel, which although advantageous from a laziness perspective, was downright hazardous if one found oneself immobilised in any way.

After securing a bobble hat over his blond locks, Gordon had brought up the rear of the pack and been the last one to shuffle through the gate after getting his admittance ticket scanned. Unfortunately, his delay in zipping his coat up resulted in one half getting trapped by the turnstile arm after his body had passed through. This would have been a manageable problem on its own, except Gordon had at this point already hooked one of his feet onto the footrest of the waiting chairlift. He'd barely had time to process the full scope of his predicament before the lift had restarted, taking the leg attached to said foot with it.

Physics dictated that the aquanaut's coat should have split as soon as force was applied to it, but alas it didn't, much to everyone's horrified surprise. Gordon was quick to credit/blame Virgil for this unwelcome development. The engineer had insisted that he go for a top-of-the-range garment when they'd embarked their little post-arrival shopping jaunt. Three figures on something to keep his body toasty had seemed a bit excessive to Gordon, but he'd followed Virgil's advice and forked out for a padded ski jacket that looked capable of rivalling one of Grandma's cheesecakes in the sturdiness department.

Unfortunately, also like one of Grandma's cheesecakes, the coat had refused to yield to the forces of nature. It wasn't until John screamed at the tower operator to cut the power that Alan, Virgil, and about twenty bystanders were saved from having to witness Gordon be stretched like one of the rubber chickens he'd bought Celery for her half-birthday.

After securing one rather traumatised aquanaut onboard the next available chair, they'd hit another snag when Alan made the rather sudden (and unplanned) decision to topple off his own chair. Again, this would have been a manageable problem, had they not been halfway up the mountain when it happened.

Following a thorough review of the situation, brothers two, three, and four made the executive decision to abandon their youngest sibling. They'd zip down to his location when they reached the summit, but until then, they were going to sit back and enjoy the beautiful views.

Or, in Gordon's case, write a scathing online review for the coat that had nearly cost him a leg.