This fic is one of a number of fics I stumbled through and didn't complete over late 2020 and early 2021. I've had to put them aside because they were freezing up my writing. I may return to them in the future, but in the meantime, I'm stashing them here. They are what they are. My apologies for their lack of completion.
-o-o-o-
Title: Tactics
Author: Gumnut
Spoilers & warnings: None so far.
Author's note: This one has been fun to write. There will be more. Theoretically, only one more chapter, but who knows with my muse.
The prompts were:
· Fight in the snow, snowball or otherwise
· Hat/gloves/scarf
· Suits filling in.
I'll let you work out which I included :D
Many, many thanks to tsarinatorment for the extensive plotwork to stimulate my migraine fogged brain and to scribbles for reading ::hugs you both so much:: Couldn't do it without you. Also, thanks to tagsecretsanta for all their hard work putting this challenge together.
Merry Christmas to you and a safe and well new year as well ::hugs::
I hope you enjoy this :D
-o-o-o-
It was ever so quiet.
Gordon slipped between the snow-laden pines on silent feet. Dressed head to toe in white, he was a ghost against the landscape.
The mission was simple. Get in, nab the target, get out.
He had the training and experience and he had an intimate knowledge of his opponents.
A sudden movement off to his left and he froze. His eyes darted between the trees.
A snow hare bounced off into the distance, throwing up puffs of white powder.
Gordon shifted the pack on his back, his gloved hand armed and ready at moment's notice.
But there was no notice.
The first volley hit him from the opposite direction. How the hell? But he didn't get a chance to ask as he was pummelled to the ground.
-o-o-o-
It went against his grain, but Virgil was desperate. He knew he was considered the weak spot in this campaign and honestly, he was. But there was value in his knowledge and while he wasn't really known for a lack of confidence, his lack of military experience niggled at the back of his mind.
His brothers certainly valued his skill set, but he knew they thought he was a softy…and rightly so. He was going to make the attempt anyway.
After all, his skill set was definitely useful in any situation and it gave him a chance at least.
So, his first victory meant a lot.
He shifted the weapon and stepped forward, his exo-suit whispering, his massive snowshoes compensating for his weight. It had been a fifty-fifty gamble on whether he should use his exo-suit for this or not. The advantages had slowly outweighed the disadvantages when his new weapon came to mind.
He smiled just a little to himself as he shifted the gun on his shoulders and made his way towards his target.
And thanked every defensive process he had put in place when he was suddenly attacked from the air.
-o-o-o-
Alan was having the time of his life.
He let out one hell of a whoop as he dove at his second eldest brother, launching a massive bomb of snow at just the right point to topple him in his exo-suit. The man was like a bug on its back, flailing in the white powder. Why Virgil thought the clunky thing would be useful in this scenario was beyond Alan.
His astroboard on the other hand was definitely an advantage and he had just proved the point.
Looping for a return volley and to make his grab for his brother's flag, he wasn't prepared for exactly why Virgil was garbed in metal. A wide-ended barrel was suddenly pointing directly at him, tracking…
The sudden rain of snowball machine gun fire hit Alan hard, toppling him into a spin that had him blessing not only his collision avoidance software, but his electrostatic grip on his board. If he let out a yelp, he wasn't going to admit it. After all, he was a veteran of both Halley's Comet and the occasional asteroid belt. This should be a piece of cake.
But yeah, he yelped and darted away as the stream of snowballs followed him.
Okay, perhaps Virg wouldn't be as easy as he thought.
But this was no different from a video game, really. Regroup, grab more ammo, attack again.
After all, there were three other brothers to take out.
Alan grinned.
-o-o-o-
Scott Tracy was used to being in the know. Knowing the exact situation, and knowing what he needed to do next.
The lack of a connection to Thunderbird Five rankled him more than he realised it would. He missed his eye in the sky.
He needed a strategy, but in order to build one, he needed to know the players.
Of course, he could just barrel on in and play it by the seat of his pants, it wouldn't be the first time. But the stakes were too high. Far too high.
So, he opted for reconnaissance first.
One's drones had a stealth mode and built-in camo, so he was using them to his advantage. Hunkered down in his chosen lair, he deployed them across the landscape, their holographic readouts projecting from his wrist control.
His frown was causing his forehead to ache.
He located his first opponent quite easily. He wasn't bothering to hide, much. But that was typical. Virg played his games on his sleeves, pretty much like he did everything else. He wasn't much for stealth.
But then he made up for it in brute force. Just look at his 'bird. There was no way he was going to discount his second eldest brother. He watched as Virgil pulled himself out of a snow drift with his grapple and swung between the pine trees like some kind of mechanical monkey.
He was very surprised when he found what looked to be Gordon. It appeared he had already encountered one of the others and was sitting on his butt in the snow.
His frown increased. Now that was unusual. He had expected that brother to be troublesome and certainly not taken out already, much less by Virgil.
Hmmm…over confidence perhaps?
But then Gordon got up and started moving again. Hmmm, perhaps not as down for the count as he thought.
Heat signatures danced about the hologram as the drones skimmed across the top of the forest.
But only three brothers.
One was notably absent.
Scott's frown threatened to rupture a blood vessel. That was a serious concern. The fourth was not to be underestimated.
It almost distracted him enough to miss the incoming bogey.
Shit.
He had dug himself a snow cave in the hope to hide from the technique he was actually employing, but then Alan...it had to be Alan, he could spot his flying style from a mile off…obviously had his own ways of gathering intel.
Scott grabbed his bag and slipping out of his cave took a running leap and shot up into the air, jetpack flaring.
Better to offend than defend.
Alan literally cackled as he swooped in, a massive chunk of snow in his hands.
Scott grit his teeth. The astroboard was faster and more manoeuvrable than his jetpack, but Scott spoke atmosphere while Alan spoke space.
The eldest darted into his little brother's flight path and forced him to dodge. Alan squawked and spun in the air, but recovered quickly, flipping in a loop-de-loop that brought him back onto Scott's tail, snow bomb still at the ready.
Alan cackled as he bore down on him.
Over-confidence, little bro, over-confidence.
Scott curled himself into a ball, killed his jet pack and let himself roll into a drop.
The wind whistled in his ears.
Right angle, right position just above the tree tops, and he kicked his jet pack back in and shot off in the complete opposite direction.
He grinned as his brother squawked again.
Gravity, little bro, gravity.
But Alan was smart and he recovered quickly again, this time using speed to his advantage.
Faster than Scott.
It rankled.
Really, it rankled.
Scott dodged, but Alan had the vehicular advantage.
Scott had experience, but Alan learned damned fast.
By the third time he had had to defensively dodge, Scott was mired by both pride in his little brother and a little desperation. He really needed to up his game or he was in some serious trouble.
Killing his jet pack again, he let himself drop enough to get a good view of the underside of Alan's board before he swooped to follow Scott down. Grabbing his grapple gun and slapping a pack in with practised ease, Scott aimed and fired at his brother's astroboard.
There was a satisfying clunk as the grapple secured.
Scott held back a smirk as he let himself swing like a pendulum from the underside of Alan's support craft, throwing out its balance and sucking away some speed.
Of course, he wasn't enough to slow it down much…well, until he got himself into the right angle and fired up his jetpack again.
Then it became a tug of war.
With the grapple clipped to his belt, he was at leisure to direct where his pull was coming from and although the astroboard had more guts than his jetpack, it only took a little physics and angle calculation to really throw the board off its flight path.
Of course, if this wasn't his brother and this wasn't a snowball fight initially instigated by Gordon nearly drowning John in tree snow, he would have already taken the astroboard rider out of the equation. But this was Alan, they were daring but not stupid, and really, it was just a training exercise.
An extreme training exercise.
Didn't stop Alan from reaching under his board and dislodging the grapple.
Scott's eyes widened. How the hell?
But he had bigger things to worry about as he was suddenly hurtling towards the nearest tree.
Experience, experience! And that was all that saved him from a pine needle faceplant.
His grapple retracted with a swift zip as Alan darted off into the distance.
Okay, perhaps he did underestimate his little brother just a bit.
-o-o-o-
"Eos, location on Alan?"
"He appears to be retrieving more ammunition."
John's fingers poked at his tablet, his bolthole lit up by flickering hologram. "Making more snowballs?"
"Large ones."
"And Scott?"
"Has returned to the surface, but appears to be…pacing."
John looked up. "What?" Another poke at his tablet and he brought up the drone's display and sure enough Scott was walking a groove into the snow he was standing on. He had seen that movement many times before. Scott was thinking, scheming…planning. "Keep an eye on him. Let me know if he makes a move."
"FAB."
John returned to his tablet and the multiple displays from all the technology deployed by his brothers. Scott's drones were definitely the most useful, giving him the eye in the sky he was forbidden by the rule of no Thunderbirds.
Gordon could be seen scampering away from where Virgil had torpedoed him into a snowdrift. Virgil was on approach again, snowball machine gun at ready. It would be interesting to see who would win that encounter. Gordon was military, but Virgil was stubborn to the extreme.
And Virgil was the challenge.
His engineer brother knew him too well and had pretty much hack-proofed his equipment. John was sure he could get in given enough time, but as always, time was a consideration. He had no doubt that given that time, Virgil would track him down and bust into his little hidden fortress and then John was screwed. Virgil the big softy or no.
So, he was relying on his brothers to take Virgil out.
He had no doubt they would and he just had to stay put in the meantime.
Easy, really.
-o-o-o-
Two brothers targeted, neither captured.
Virgil grit his teeth.
The word was definitely out about his snowball cannon now so the element of surprise was gone. That would likely be bad. He had hoped to take down at least one brother with that surprise, but no go.
No matter. He still had the cannon and it was very effective.
He made it back to where he had pummelled Gordon, but there was no sign of his aquanaut brother. Alan was likely still in the air and Virgil had no doubt that Scott was probably using a similar tactic. So, bar finding Gordon who was likely on the defensive already, John was the next obvious target.
The question was how to find him.
The terrain assigned to this exercise was quite large. The land was part of a complex owned by Tracy Industries in Canada. Their family often came up here for vacations in the snow, usually around Christmas. While they generally couldn't shut down International Rescue on Christmas due to the collective idiocy of the human population of the planet, Grandma did demand that at least one weekend in the months of December or January be put aside for the family to celebrate.
Scott hated to shut down IR, but he certainly agreed that they did need time.
Virgil was grateful that he did. At least the Medic didn't have to take on the Commander head on to get him to stop.
This year had been particularly stressful with finding Dad and the medical and emotional fallout from that expedition having lasting effects on all of them. So, Grandma had called it and they were off for a week and as far away from the Island as possible.
Which meant a white Christmas, a pristine lake and plenty of time for a healing family.
Until Gordon took his pranks one step too far and half buried John in tree snow.
Admittedly, it had been funny and Virgil had been hard put to frown. John hadn't been wearing a hat at the time – it had been in his hand as he was about to put it on – and consequently his hair had been plastered to his scalp in a most undignified way.
Red hair really stood out against white snow.
Also, reportedly the Voice Who Not Only Answers But Can Swear In Multiple Languages ended up with snow melting down his back and 'Gordon was going to get it'.
Gordon being the occasional idiot he was, took that up as a challenge, daring their genius brother to come whip his ass.
The visuals accompanying that thought had Virgil rubbing his cold face.
The entire encounter had devolved from there, a rare moment where John lost his cool and a sign of exactly how stressed they actually were. It took Virgil a good tug on his astronaut brother and Scott dragging Gordon away to separate them.
Virgil cornered John and wrapped an arm around him, trying to draw him out, to find out what was bugging him, but no. Fiery turquoise was already plotting revenge and Virgil feared this was going to escalate to something ridiculous.
There was a reason why most brothers didn't anger John. He was an easy target, but the fallout was apocalyptic.
Like never being able to communicate electronically for the rest of your life kind of apocalyptic.
So, it was with some trepidation that Virgil suggested this training scenario.
No Thunderbirds.
Personal equipment allowed - hence the training name of the game and not the all-out death match it was tempted to be.
Snowballs the only weapon - to stop his brothers from killing each other.
Virgil had no doubt that both Gordon and John were quite capable of burying each other in snow. Alan literally started bouncing. Probably because he immediately realised he could bomb from the air.
And Virgil set himself up to be the sacrificial lamb. Well, the one wearing an exo-suit and carrying a snowball machine gun.
The caricature that came to mind at that thought was quite amusing so he stored it away for later scribbling.
But anyway, just because he was the most likely to go down first, didn't mean he had to go down easy.
Hopefully both Gordon and Alan realised that now. It didn't hurt to make a point.
The ultimate goal was to nab each brother's flag – a patch of fabric attached to their hip. Colour coded and numbered appropriately, Virgil's green number two fluttered as he moved.
But the puzzle still remained: how to locate John.
His brother always liked to be on high with a view. Be it on the roof of the house, up a tree or in space itself, that was a characteristic that turned Virgil in the direction of the hillside.
Sure, John could be up a tree anywhere in the forest, but these were pines. A mix of tall, straight up monsters with few lower branches and squat dense walls of needles. John might have shimmied up one of the taller ones, but Virgil didn't see the point. No security or camo.
No, it was more likely that John had a bolthole up on the hillside. It might be natural or he might have built it himself, but it would be hidden and secure.
Virgil respected his brother's skills immensely.
And acted accordingly.
His suit whispered as he moved. Trying to find a way to quieten his movements had been far harder than building the snowball gun.
It had taken multiple adjustments to its hydraulics and several lubricants, but he'd managed it to a passable extent. Enough to sneak up on Gordon at least.
Virgil smiled to himself.
Now that was an accomplishment he wasn't going to let go for a long time, no matter the outcome of today.
His snow shoes kept his extra weight stable on the soft powder as his reached the slope and began to climb. The hill became quite steep quickly.
Perhaps it was the change in terrain, or perhaps he really was just bad at this, but he had no warning when a grapple shot across his path and embedded in a huge tree to his left.
He had just enough time to gasp before the high tensile cable was wrapping around him, pulling him towards that monster of a tree.
It snared him about the waist and chained him there before wrapping around him again.
But he managed to keep the cannon free and he made some serious use of it, shooting at a flying blur that could be no one but Scott.
He rained snowball hell upon his brother.
But the daredevil pilot was fast and had more than one grapple pack.
Moments later the gun was as tied to the tree as Virgil was.
Scott certainly knew how to secure a rescuee when necessary. Virgil found himself splayed against the tree like some human-metal sacrifice.
If he had his laser, maybe. But he didn't.
He still struggled.
And he kept on struggling, straining cables even as Scott came to an elegant landing in front of him.
Despite it all, his eldest brother's eyes were apologetic. "Hi, Virgil." A small smile. "I'm sorry, bro, but you have something I need."
He reached in and with a flick of his wrist, nabbed Virgil's green flag.
-o-o-o-
TBC