Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with these films and shows.
Guest staring Rhett Fisher as Zhane Mitchell.
Guest starring RJ Cyler as Clyde McBride.
Most of the areas in this fanfic is fictional work, any similarities to anything in real life is entirely coincidental and unintentional. If you got nothing positive to say, just leave…don't be a fucking asshole in the reviews. You know who you are, if my disclaimer offends you that much just down fuckin' read it!
Chapter 2: 17 years later.
"I tell you, McBride, Lord Tetherby said looking out the window of their cab, "I know people have probably said it before, but there will never be a more fucked up time in Washington."
"What are they going on about this time?" replied the young man sitting beside him, smoothing his suit over his lanky frame and running his fingers through his black hair.
"Who knows, humans will find anything to feud about."
"Come on, move it!" shouted the driver from behind the wheel. They pair had been stuck here the last thirty minutes, the streets crowded with throng after throng of people, each seemed to be holding a sign and shouting all at one, the general din of their cacophony and the blaring of annoyed commuters blocking out whatever they were saying. At one point passing by a gas station that appeared to only have one working pump, the line of cars waiting stretched until it was lost in the crowds, Tetherby thanked his stars he and his group had access to government fuel depots, that saved them more than a fair share of troubles, Though he did sometimes feel a bit guilty at the long lines he'd sometimes see.
Ever since the Titan alpha war thirty years ago, their group had been proven right in their pursuit that there was massive unidentified organisms, Titans, populating the world alongside mankind, but that was only the first win of a long war, most people feared that which they couldn't explain, to them Titans were beings that had to be destroyed, not studied and find away to live along side in peace, it was fascinating and sad all at once, you say aliens are discovered on a distant planet, then humanity hollers for an extension of peace, but an ancient species that's lain dormant for centuries, and humans are responsible for awakening, then the peace is changed to war. To him, it didn't make sense.
Lord Tetherby watched the drove of homo sapiens with impatience. The short, fat, elderly gentleman drummed his fingers on the armrest. They were already late, he had intended to be Senate building by now, these delays were a nuisance, his contact better still be there. Who knows when they'd get another chance at this? They were running out of time, it had to be soon, the sooner the better.
At last the cab pulled up in front of the Congressional building, a high roofed building with worn marble volume. Tetherby stepped out, enjoying the ability to stretch.
"Mcbride, pay the fare, would you?"
Clyde McBride gave a disapproving sigh, but did as he was asked, well used to this behavior, Lord Tetherby was incredibly wealthy, heir to the Tether ball fortune, but he wouldn't waste his money on what he considered, in his words, "trivial matters", leaving those for his underlings. Least that's what Clyde had found when Tetherby had hired the young geology major fresh out of Yale when he was eighteen.
Telling the man he could keep the change, Clyde retrieved his briefcase from the back seat, the younger of the two straightened his glasses and did a once over to make sure he was still decent, like his father's taught him, presentation was half the battle, dress serious to be taken serious, which was why he looked so out of place next to Tetherby. Standing exactly six-foot, bookish and gangly, his freckles fading but still seeable, dressed in a freshly pressed navy blue suit over a maroon dress shirt, based on his slightly nervous demeanor and stance, one might assume he was the senior official of the pair, not the short, elderly man dressed in a outdated blue suit with a red ascot, white handkerchief and khakis with top hot. Tetherby had been with Monarch since before Clyde was even born, maybe even before his nana was, it was one of the few things he would willingly fund with his own fortune.
Tetherby did the crowds a once over, protesters were here too, crowded across the lawn and at the steps, holding their signs and shouting at the top of their lungs, officers in riot gear patrolled among them, but they were barely a drop in the imposing tide of humans. Again Tetherby found himself thinking there never would be a more screwed up time in Washington, but at the same time knew it was equally likely there would be, that was one of the vast majority of the human races flaws, their unfailing ability to never learn from their past mistakes.
"But we can't let that stop us."
The two man headed up the steps into the building, dozens of senator's filed through out the gleaming hallway, carrying armloads of paper or briefcases like Clyde, hastily greeting a "morning" to a familiar face or two, before heading off.
"This way, Mcbride."
Clyde followed with minor reluctance, he had already protested this meeting a dozen times, and not just the ones from this morning, the notes were no good, what Tetherby was suggesting was a half-baked rough draft, not a full fledged plan, he was cutting corners again, Clyde didn't like that, it was basically on the same par as lying.
"Tetherby, maybe now's not the best time to ask-
"Politics are at each other's throat's, neither side will back down, they where told to cut budgets and anything that wasn't necessary for the war effort, but they have no money for infrastructure or basic needs. With all the barking left and right, they can't see how important our sect is.
"I hardly think they'll see us as important to either infrastructure or basic needs…..
"How about the survival of the human race, McBride?" Tetherby curtly responded. "Monarch is on the cusp of being shut down, McBride, no way of going about it. We're facing financial ruin, my wealth can't keep it afloat forever. If we don't do this now, we'll never get approval for our expedition."
"But-
"No, no buts!" Tetherby responded sharply before continuing in a quieter tone, "This very well might be our last chance, you know how the public feels about our research."
Tetherby knew the route from memory. He turned outside a door on their left, then made a second left and entered with Clyde following, the place was bustling, secretaries filing or shredding documents, sorting volumes, sitting at desks typing away or conversing with one another, monitoring read-outs from machines.
"But I'm not confident in out presentation." Clyde quickened his pace beside the older man, " Think about it, all our materials are loose leaf." He got in front of Tetherby, forcing him to a stop. "Look, if I had just one day, ONE day, I could have had all of it organized and bound."
" We don't have a day. We have to do this now.
Clyde groaned, again his pleas had fell on deaf ears.
"Buck up, McB. Those who believe in what they do don't wait." Tetherby tried lifting his spirits as he stopped before a free worker at a desk, typing away on her computer. "Hello there, Lord Mike Tetherby, here to see Senator Trembley.
The receptionist looked from Tetherby to Clyde then back again
"Of course, Mr. Tetherby-
"Lord, if you please. Is there a problem?"
"Lord", she corrected, eye twitching slightly, " You see, I left you a message about us trying to rescheduling today's appoint. Mr. Trembley is very busy at present But he should have something available in the coming week….s."
The doorknob directly beside her desk rattled, and she stopped, perhaps sensing it was out of her hands now, the door swung outwards, letting out a middle-aged man closely followed by a tall and thin brown haired man with a receding hairline, and friendly muttonchops dressed in a black suit with a yellow tie. Telling the other man bye he turned to give a nod to his assistant and spotted Tetherby, immediately his expression deteriorated as he froze, then groaning loudly, he came over.
"God." He muttered wearily. Tetherby stepped forward with a wide smile and shook hands.
"Good to see you again, Quentin. Your looking well." He stated, pretending as if Quentin's mood hadn't evaporated.
"So I take it you didn't get the message, Tetherby? To reschedule?" Trembley ran a hand across his forehead, as if already anticipating a headache.
"For the fifth time? 'Fraid I must've missed it."
Trembley frowned, eyes drifted over to Clyde, he shifted his feet nervously, uncomfortable from the older man's gaze.
"Who's this?"
"My colleague and associate, Clyde Mcbride, geologist and an expert on the theory of the hollow earth.
"He looks like he's seventeen."
"Twenty-five actually." Clyde politely corrected
"And he knows his stuff, he's really pushed our research in leaps and bounds."
"Well, hate to tell you two you've come all this way, but I'm not available at the-
"It'll be quick. Just five minutes, I swear."
Trembley sighed, he really wasn't in the mood to deal with this, Tetherby was always contacting him whenever something happened in the world, the Loch Ness Monster sunbathing in Scotland, a Yowie run over in Australia, if he could think it, more then likely Tetherby had already called him for it. Tetherby was a member of Monarch, a selective branch of the government that specialized in the hunt for Massive Unidentified Terrestrial Organisms, or MUTO's, as they referred to then as such. To Trembely, they were a waste of money and resources, nothing more then myths and folklore. But at the same time knew if he said no, Tetherby would just keep hassling him until he agreed, better get this out of the way. And be done with it.
Tetherby's eyes never left him, knowing Quentin, he'd do anything to avoid this meeting with them, he recalled once catching the man hightailing it out the window as his assistant swore he was out of country on at a conference in Canada. At last he sighed
"Fine, step into my office."
They stepped inside behind him, the office was clean and fairly spacious, most of the free space contained nothing but shelves of history books and quotes from famous historical figures he was fond of. A polished oak desk sat beneath the offices duel windows.
Clyde glanced around, taking in the stacks of papers, reports, pens and small statuettes on the desk. Two small sofas lined the far wall before a glass topped table, the glass surface strewn with empty coffee cups and peanut brittle tins. A small glass stood by a glass bottle half full with what Tetherby suspected was a very high dollar single malt, and behind his desk was a small cabinet no doubt well stocked with more drinks.
Trembley poured himself a drink and downed it, now that he thought about it, Quentin really started on the sauce a year or two after Tetherby joined Monarch.
"Alright don't get comfortable, you got five minutes, I'm late for a meeting." Trembley poured a second drink and placed his briefcase on his desk as the three men took a seat. "So, what imaginary monster are you chasing this time?"
Clyde removed a sheet of paper from his case and lay them before the senator, Trembley looked them over, the sheet contained a black and white photo of a strange landmass, in likeness it was vaguely shaped like a human head, broken by grey patches of water, and darker patches of what he assumed were jungles or other landscapes, A deep line, like a canyon or crevice, near the exact center, split down one length of the island, disappearing in the interior and appearing again on the other end, estimating by the ocean around it, the island appeared to be quite large, swirling, blurred forms around the edge baffled him, was that a hurricane?
"What's this?"
"That, Quentin, is a satellite photo of an uncharted island in the middle of where the Atlantic and Pacific oceans converge, it has defied discovery until now. It has long persisted in the legends of many ancient cultures, it's had many names over the centuries, of course: Atlantis, the Mysterious Island, Jotunheim, The Isle of Monsters, Neverland, Caspak, Pellucidar…Skull Island, to name a few." Tetherby answered. "We call it Loud Island, it's also known as the land where God didn't finish creation, where time stands still. It's notorious for the number of ships and planes that have gone missing there?"
"So it's basically like the Bermuda Triangle, or like that aluminum foil hat I like to where on weekends when I can exercise my freedom of not wearing pants?" He inquired sarcastically.
Clyde snorted, Tetherby and Trembley glanced at him and he suddenly developed an interest in his shoes.
"It's more like the Triangle then the hat, but people in our field like to think it's much more then that." Tetherby said after a pause.
Clyde lay another photo on the desk. Trembley examined the wreckage of a military vessel with huge gashes taken out of the hull . "U.S. Navel vessel mysteriously destroyed."
"The 1954 Castle Bravo nuclear tests… I assume you read the files on those. They weren't tests… they were trying to kill something. I believe there's possibly a entire ecosystem out there the likes of which we've never imagined, and the place to find it is this island. A place were myth and science meet."
Trembley had , in fact read about the failed Castle Bravo tests, same as Tetherby, though their views on what happened were opposites, vaguely recalling something about the 1954 nuclear test being just a cover, claims of something lurking out in the depths of the ocean…something big….the testing's of bombs out at sea were the cover, that then supposedly went south, bombs were more destructive then they anticipated or something of that ilk, danger to the underwater ecosystem…blah, blah, blah….lots of chemistry and rocket science stuff he didn't fully understand, at any rate the entire article was labeled classified and never fully disclosed to the public. But it cost a good chunk of change to cover it up. But this talk of an ecosystem out there, on this island , seemed unlikely to the point of non-existent, he couldn't name anything apart from Cockroaches that could possibly survive bomb testing.
"That " creature" was never proven to be anything more then a whale blown up in the blast. It's a fairytale." Trembley shook his head.
Tetherby chewed his lip , now he was getting a reaction, Trembley had brushed his comment to the side, true, but he had acknowledged the tests were more then the public were told they were . This was what he wanted, now to push the envelope a bit further "2016, the Huggins expedition."
Trembley's interest shifted drastically, he looked up almost defensively. "What did you say."
"2016, Wilbur.T. Huggins lead an expedition to what he believed was a lost world. The exact same coordinates that the satellite placed this landmass at, and you know as well as I… he didn't not return empty-handed."
Trembley scowled . "We're done here."
"Something which cost millions of dollars worth of damages, something Huggins family is still dealing with the fallout for, an unknown species well suited for life on the Island, and that could only be The beginning, just imagine what else could be there, if we're going to co-exist with these beings, we're going to need to know where they are, and the place they are we believe…he glanced at Clyde… I believe is on this island."
"I said we're done." Trembley grabbed his briefcase and pushed his door open and exited. Tetherby and Clyde exchanged a glance before pursuing, Clyde stowing the photos back in his case.
Trembley was halfway to neing out the door before Tetherby clapped him on the shoulder.
"Things Monarch specializes it." Trembley said nothing. "Look, I know you think we're a waste of resources, but Harry Truman didn't think so when he first funded Monarch in 1946."
"As far as waste of resources go, Monarch ranks right up there with the hunt for alien life." Trembley reluctantly paused, not looking at him.
"Yeah, but those guys are nuts."
"And you aren't? What about your "King Ghidorah, or whatever you called him, doesn't your sect believe he came from space?"
Trembley pushed his hand off before stepping out into the hall, hoping Tetherby would take the hint to leave him alone, but a second later his footsteps sounded directly behind him.
"You can quit chasing me, Mike. Trembley snapped, "You're not getting any money."
"Wha-? Who said we wanted money?" Tetherby said, hoping the risk would surprise the Senator into stopping. It worked, "Well, maybe a miniscule amount or so."
Trembley started walking again. Tetherby fell back on the senator's earlier passing remark.
"As you asked, Monster Zero or Titanus Ghidorah. One of the theories, yes, it's possible he's an extraterrestrial or an ancient being who lay dormant for millions of years, hell he could've been from another dimension entirely for all we know, all we're certain of is that he wasn't a part of the natural order of the Titans, an invasive species as it were, most Titans only attack if they feel threatened but he was terraforming the earth to suit his tastes. And that's my point, exactly, there's still so much we don't know…
"I can't believe your still talking about this, whatever those things you're so enamored with…MUTO's or Titans, whatever you call them… they're dangerous… and they're expensive… I'm talking millions of dollars….not to mention the casualties… the amount of money we needed to pay in order for everyone involved to keep their traps shut."
"This is an opportunity for our country… beseeched Tetherby, and you not gonna…
"No, Tetherby I'm not. The world has enough monsters, we don't need more."
Tetherby scoffed, prepared to start again before Clyde unexpectedly pushed forward.
"Listen Senator, If I may, Landsat is launching a mission to the Island….you've heard of Landsat, yes?
Trembley grunted to indicate he had.
"Well, we could piggy back off that operation,… with you're permission , of course." Clyde added cautiously. "It'd not only cut the cost but share the burden as well."
Trembley slowed, "Ok, just for arguments sake, suppose I did say yes, what are you hoping you'll find?"
"The possibilities could be limitless." Clyde said, his hope and confidence rising at Trembley's question…
He caught his attention on that one Tetherby thought.
A small voice told Tetherby to silence Clyde and take back the conversation, but another part was saying that his associate might know something that could shift the odds in their favor, so he held back and allowed Clyde control of the reins.
"Resources, medicine, geological discoveries, shoot maybe even the cure for cancer! Possible alternate fuels… a strategic new out post for America…
Trembley slowly nodded as Clyde talked, when he trailed off Trembley motioned for him to continue.
"Alright, Senator, the truth is…we have no idea what we'll find there…maybe even nothing, or maybe the island sinks into the sea or a volcano erupts and wipes everything out before we could even get there…but we know this, this could be the discovery of the century, maybe even several", He looked around carefully to see if anyone was listening in to their conversation before continuing more quietly, "Look Russian satellites will be over the Island tomorrow and in three days time, they'll have the same images we do. Now suppose there is something there, something that can be the key to unlocking new possibilities….you want us to find it first… right?"
"And why hasn't these images made it to either country until now?"
"Storm front, the island's surrounded and covered by a near permanent storm system that cuts it off from the rest of the world, this is the first time it's broken enough to let anything through, far as we can tell. First time since satellites where put up in space." Tetherby answered, "We believe Huggins also caught it during a clearing spell.
Trembley nodded, scratched his head , then glanced at his watch, Tetherby could tell he was giving Clyde's proposal some serious thought, despite his otherwise neutral appearance, he had needed what he considered a worthwhile reason for the expedition, and thanks to Clyde, he had it.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, he said at length, but that actually almost made sense." His eyes darted to Tetherby. "Next time, drop the monster talk and let the kid here do the talking, he knows what he's doing."
"Thank you, and I know this will be the last favor Tetherby will ask of you, right sir?" Clyde glanced at his superior, hoping he'd accept Clyde's suggestion.
"Precisely." Tetherby agreed quickly enough.
Trembley exhaled sharply, " Alright, fine, I'll get you the piggyback, but listen to me, hear this, this is it, it's got to end, can you agree to that, this is the last favor. No more after this. Promise me?"
"Yes." Tetherby consented.
"Good, now I'll put the word in for the piggyback this afternoon, good day, gentlemen." Trembley turned, feeling as if a great weight had lifted off his shoulders, no more favors owed to Tetherby. All he had to do was head outside and he'd hopefully never have to deal with Monarch or hear about Titans or monsters again.
"Trembley….one last thing?"
"Shit, Trembley hissed under his breath, turning to Tetherby once more, what?"
"I'm also going to need a military escort."
"In case the Titans aren't interested in peace?" He asked and when Tetherby said nothing, he had his answer. "Yeah, just in case."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/-\~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thunderbird U.S army base: Hout Bay, Cape Peninsula South Africa. Jan. 1st.
The Thunderbird: a supernatural creature from Native American histories, said to have created thunder by flapping its wings and lightning flashed from its eyes. It was held as a symbol of power and strength.
Warrant Officer rank 3 George Sully, or just Sully as he was known around his unit, looked over his cards, wondering if he's had enough beer for one day, his sight wasn't fuzzy, but he was definitely feeling a buzz in his head, as he looked over the three other men he was currently engaged with.
Luke Cipes, one of his best pals since they both attended Royal Woods High ( Go Kangaroos!), a rock-lover, same as him, lead guitarist in the band they founded back home, as well as a grade-A smart-ass. Something he learned to keep in check under the head of their units stern glare.
Then there was Franklin Clinton, one of the more sombre members of them, he grew up on the sea edged city of Los Santos, " city of saints", though as Frank put it, that was almost far from the truth as you could get. Corruption and crime, was just a few thinks he had had to deal with growing up.
Charles Littlebowl, of all them he seemed the most out of place here, dude was a math major back in his home town of Great Lakes city, but the guy was also a mechanical genius, if there was even the slightest "click" from an aircraft engine or something wonky with the rotor, he was on it, he was also the one who had come up with their insignia.
Sully took a moment to gaze at the nearest helicopter, the image of a spread-winged eagle with lightning flashing from its eyes and gusts of wind beating from it's wings , it looked both majestic and powerful, a Thunderbird, Charles had called it, and enlightened them with a bit of the mythology, in some tales it controlled the upperworld, in others they were messengers of the sun and defended mankind from the great horned serpents who sought to overrun the earth and devour mankind.
" A fitting name for a military group." Sully thought, sipping his beverage, soldiers protected their country and family from those who might destroy them, same as the Thunderbirds, pity it was going to be dismantled alongside the dozen other hueys and planes in the hanger, breaking crews were already in there, most of them already in the state of being dismantled, one of the reasons Luke kept turning up the volume on his portal electric stereo, to drown out the buzzing and drilling and the sounds of metal tearing.
" I need to ask to take one of those banners home, It'd look sick in the practice room.
Plus it'd be a great reminder of the kinship he and Luke made out here with their fellow soldiers, hard to believe his tour was almost over.
On the stereo, Bohemian Rhapsody started up, Luke excited cranked the volume up higher.
"Oh, yeah boy! I bloody love this song!"
"Jeez, Luke, couldn't you have picked a CD from the last thirty years?" Franklin groaned.
"Hey, don't diss Queen! Freddie Mercury was a legend!"
"I'm gonna have to agree with him on that". Sully said, finishing his beer. "The man was a genius."
Franklin rolled his eyes but said nothing, he knew Sully and Luke lived almost entirely on music, it was their passion, something they had to look forward to when they got home, right back to writing and playing songs, each of them with their loving families waiting to welcome them back, didn't Luke have, like, nine brothers and a sister or something? He had mentioned them a few times, but their names had all blurred together, all Franklin could recall was Luke was the third oldest and all their names started with L.
Only family Franklin had waiting for him back in LS was his aunt Denise, his mom's older sister, she more then likely didn't miss him, she hardly responded to his letters, he didn't really even feel like writing then while they been out her, but she was the only blood family he had , besides a cousin in Liberty City, least Lamar responded, asking how many bad guys he killed and how the women were out here.
Truth was, no one here hardly killed any one, ever since those…Titans… he thought they were called, had their big fight, most of the world was still recovering, still building up what had been torn down, they had a few bandit raids or gang-war-fare , but not the full blown war Lamar was thinking of, the Thunderbirds were mainly guards, protection services. Franklin wondered how Lamar was doing without him to reel him back in.
"I'll take a card." Charles pipped up.
Franklin tossed him one, looking over his own as he took it, he had three fives in red and clubs and two queens, with a grin he threw his cards on the table.
"I'm callin', full house!"
Both Luke and Charles looked over their cards and groaned loudly.
"Boom!" Sully challenged, flinging his cards beside Franklin's. "Straight flush!"
Franklin looked at the 3 , 4, 5 and 6 of spades in black followed by the Ace of spades, Franklin slapped the table on a huff.
"Hate this stupid game any way."
"Chillax bro", Luke handed him another beer from the cooler beside him. "Where just playing for fun, besides this time tomorrow, we'll all be back home with our families."
"Yeah, if you call Frank's aunt family." Spoke up Trevor Phillips from behind them, "How many letters did you end up writing her, F"?
"Fourteen or fifteen."
"And how many did she answer back?"
" I don't know, like three or four."
"Yep. You're aunt's shit, F."
"And thank you, T, for clearing that up." Franklin dryly said, catching the older man's smirk beneath his aviator glasses, Trevor was easily one of the most noticeable in the Thunderbird, only Lieutenant Colonel Hatchet was taller then him, and he held himself in the air of someone you didn't want to piss off, He could be friendly if you didn't push his buttons too much, but it was always wise to keep an eye on him, he and Franklin had known each other for years, both had rough home lives growing up, both lived around San Andreas, and he had saved the lives of most of the unit at least once. Once gunning down an entire line of bandits before dragging both Franklin and Luke from where they'd been flung aside by a grenade blast, he was a bit of a loose cannon, but a cannon they owed their lives to, you couldn't put a price on that.
The other three didn't tease Franklin further, knowing his aunt was one of the sore subjects, Luke's family may have been chaotic, but they all loved each other more then the world, and he knew he'd get a flood of letters from his parents, nine brothers and sister whenever he wrote home. Sully may have been an only child, but his mom and pops loved him dearly, same with Charles.
Instead they each opened another beer and listened to sounds of Freddie Mercury and Queen singing " We will Rock you."
The sound of hangers doors drew all their attention, even over the ruckus of dismantling aircraft, Sully glanced around and quickly spotted the crew-cut adorned Major Brick McArthur, closely followed by the intimidating shape of Lieutenant colonel Chef Hatchet, no-one knew what his real first name was, he'd been a cook during his first tour and the name "Chef" had stuck with him and he never seemed eager to change it and with five tours under his belt and a adament glare behind his aviators, no one saw any reason to pry.
"Atten-shun!" Brick ordered. "Look alive, troops!"
All activity stopped as the card group and everyone else snapped to and gathered to attention, Sully's stomach rolled and he instantly felt grateful he hadn't had another drink, last think he wanted was to spill his cuts before Hatchet.
"At ease, numb-skulls!" Hatchet said, "You all look like dumb-asses. This is a celebration! You're all going home tomorrow!
He smiled one of his rare genuine smiles and the tenderness evaporated. Brick's stern face split into a wide smile as he produced a big bottle of champagne from behind his back and a stack of paper cups.
"And Happy New Year, to boot! Know it's a bit early, but since this is probably the last we'll see of each other, figured we start early."
Every one whooped and cheered as they lined up and each received a little paper cup full of the blood of the earth. It was almost funny to see a Major serving his troops, though Sully was happy to see he wasn't the only one that had to resist the urge to salute as he received his drink.
"I'll just say one think, before we all get hammered." Hatchet said once everyone had a cup. "Its been my absolute honor to serve with each and every one of you all, I know we weren't in the thick of battle, but we protected innocent civilians and families, that makes each and every one of you heroes. Even with our tour done and headin' home, you'll always be members of the best security unit in air-cav history. You earned the name Thunderbirds, never forget that."
They all toasted with a loud "here, here!" Cups were drained as Luke changed his Queen CD for a fresh one, the major mingled with troops, Franklin gathered up the cards and started dealing them out for a fresh round
"Let me get one of those, son." They hadn't even heard Hatchet approaching their table, Luke passed him a beer and the Lieutenant colonel turned and headed for the stairs in the corner leading to the small office above them. As he did the smile dropped from his face.
Hatchet sat heavily in his chair, draining half the bottle in one go before setting his feet on his desk, sighing in dejection, looking over the mostly empty space of what had once been his office, It was mostly barren now, the walls that once held maps of all the raiders and gang sites he'd talk over with McArthur and some if the more experienced pilots, even flew a few missions himself, he remembered an old saying there were two types of commanders, the ones who gave the order to charge and the ones that said "follow me", he was definitely the latter, he'd never ask his troops to do anything he wasn't willing and prepared to do himself. The troops appreciated it and it made him feel strong, in control, invincible.
But now only bare wood remained, nothing but memories remained of the plans made here, the ambushes scouted, the letters home to families of a lost soldier.
He sighed again, he served five tours over the decades, awarded the purple heart and distinguished service medal, even got to shake hands with President Derby Harrington, just a few of the mementos gathered in the small chest in his desk drawer , he lived for the schedule brought by military life, after Total Drama ended, amidst the numerous lawsuits, his purpose in life waned, only to be reforged here, this was his home now, with the soldiers under his command. Not back out there, in the real world. To him THIS was the real world.
And now, it was done, he was going back, away from this…
"Sir?"…
Chef closed his eyes, he should've known McArthur would've seen something off with him, he was very perceptive and adhered to the "never leave a man behind", it was one of the things Hatchet respected most about him, even back when Brick had been a contestant on Total Drama, meeting again in the line of duty, they had grown into more then former co-host and contestant… they were friends, equals.
"McArthur." Hatchet said giving the all-clear to come in.
"You need anything sir?" Brick entered and closed the door behind him, cutting of the blaring music and celebrating soldiers.
Hatchet shook his head, "All good."
"Ok."
"What are you going to do, McArthur?" Hatchet asked. "When you rejoin the real world."
"I'm already set up with Eastern Airlines. Jo and Billy are already moved-in in Atlanta. Just waitin' on me."
Brick smiled and he had every right to do so, Hatchet was happy for him, to Brick a quiet family life was a good replacement to the military, but not for Hatchet.
Something in higher officer's demeanor struck a cord with Brick.
"What about you, sir?
"That…I'm not sure." Hatchet said in a quiet voice.
Never, in all the years he had known him, had Brick seen Chef do anything quietly, he was a giant of a man with a voice and bearing that matched him to a T.
"Are you sure you're alright, sir?" Brick said and this time it wasn't two officers speaking, it was a friend asking a friend.
"Shit, go on, McArthur, go have fun. That's an order." Chef said with half a smile before adding underbreath. "Don't trouble yourself with the worries of an old soldier."
Everything wasn't all right, and Brick knew it. But he turned and left anyway, Chef Hatchet had always been a mystery, an enigma, and he liked things that way.
The door closed behind him, leaving the former co-host alone with his thoughts.
The partying went on well into the night, it had began raining, just their luck they were leaving at the start of the wet season, pleasantly buzzed the Thunderbirds headed out in the rain towards the gate a hundred yards from the base, a dozen trucks were packed and loaded up and waiting, more would be arriving tomorrow and the his unit would be gone, taken to the closet airport , then spirted off home,
Satchel slung over his shoulder, Hatchet stomped through the downpouring , Africa may have been dry most of the year, but when it rained…it poured, it was almost like the base was crying that they were all leaving, Hatchet could sympathize, the sight of dismantled helicopters just about broke his heart, listening to his soldiers laughing and joking and joshing, talking about all they had missed back home and couldn't wait to pick up where they left off, to them or it was easier, they had something waiting for them all back in the states, friends and families, jobs and purpose, Hatchet didn't have that, no family waited for him, no purpose, Total Drama was history, his former co-host , Chris Mclean, was behind bars again, serving time for all the lawsuits brought to him by contestants lives he endangered during the shows run, Chef closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of laughter and rain, what waited for him outside all this, he guessed he's find out when he got there.
Hatchet paused and glanced back, just able to make out the hazy lights of the airbase nearly drowned in the rainfall, it been his home the last year, and a part of him knew it always would be, waiting here, testimony to all they had accomplished in there time together, a bittersweet memory if ever there was one.
Chef had barely taken another step towards the vehicles when someone shouted " Colonel Hatchet!"
A guard was jogging over from the booth parallel with the gates, Hatchet felt relieved, probably just a young officer wanting to say their goodbyes, but it was an excuse to delay heading for the trucks.
"Call for you, sir."
"Thank you, private." Chef read his rank on his uniform as they swapped salutes, who would be calling him at this time? Hatchet wondered as he headed towards the camp phone close set on a pile with a simple metal cover keeping it from the rain.
"This is Hatchet." He said raising the receiver to his ear.
"Chef, this is General Grouse." Said the voice on the other end
"Sir." Hatchet had meet the General once, a old soldier whose fighting days might have been done, but still headed the call to help those in need.
"Heard you might be looking for one last op."
"I would not be opposed to one, sir." Hatchet said, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, glancing out across the airfield, the rest of the crew was piling into the trucks, the gate he had just been about to step through called, but he was first and foremost, a soldier, if there was a job, he'd answer.
"Well, your orders to head home are already processed, you sure you don't want to head back over for some R and R? I'm sure your Troops are eager to get back over."
"They are, sir."
"But you're not?" Grouse prodded.
Chef looked towards his unit, sitting on board the trucks, packs beside them, packed with mementos from their time here, waiting on the one soldier not ready to stop being the soldier.
"I'm here to execute whatever orders I'm given, sir."
"Yeah, well don't get too excited." Grouse said. "Okay, here's the lowdown, some eggheads over at NASA called Landset discovered an uncharted island. Survey mission nothing more, guy called Tetherby wants a military escort and helicopter transport for when they get there, should be easy, a few days of geologic mapping in paradise , in and out, I send you the details, but you need to brief and prep your Troops immediately, they say the windows closing fast."
"Roger that." Chef said, a non-combat mission, but that was fine by him, he wasn't asking for a battle, just one more chance for him and his grunts to be in the air, doing their duty.
"And sir."
"Yes?"
"Thank you." Hatchet smiled as he hung up the receiver, his mood vastly improved from this afternoon, turning on his heel he matched towards the trucks to tell the Thunderbirds they had one last op.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/-\~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sydney, Australia.
Sydney was a nice city, under normal circumstances both Clyde and Tetherby would have wanted to spend a few hours taking in the sights, but now wasn't normal circumstances.
The two men waded through the busy streets of "Sydneysiders" and tourists alike, the whole country of Australia was rich in history architecture and Sydney held its share of the wealth, they Sydney Opera house, beautifully constructed bridges and, a gorgeous river alongside, pedestrians idly chatting away with one another in friendly voices, Clyde would have to remind himself to visit again when their expedition was over.
Tetherby was ahead of him, shielding his eyes from the lights of the city and all the motorbikes and cars populating the streets, Clyde too looked around, somewhat sad they weren't just taking in the sights.
"You sure we need this guy?" He asked as they crossed the street. "You already have a military escort, why do we need a Tracker… and why army Rangers of all things
"Former Army Ranger, now his allegiance isn't to anyone." Tetherby responded, " And his skill sets are impressive, trained in Escrima, Bojitsu, knife- fighting and swordsmanship, and he rescued twelve down pilots in Afghanistan in 2037."
"Yeah, but your sources say he was decommissioned for unknown circumstances and that he spends most of waking hours in some back alley watering hole."
His reason for decommissioned is only left unknown because those low-lifes that dis it were unable to accept the truth. Tetherby thought with annoyance, he had read the report, a special operations unit stationed in Africa, ten well trained army men and women, there one second, the next a massacre, nine dead and one left alive, the sole survivor was claimed to have suffered from stress and PTSD, possibly under the influence as well at the time, and received an honorable discharge.
" Bullshit." Tetherby thought again, the medical reports were clean, there wasn't any drugs or alcohol in his system, and of course his stress levels were high, he witnessed his whole unit get dismembered by what the world considered myths!"
And based on some of the autopsy photos from the pieces that were left, no wonder he needed a stiff drink now and again.
"Is your Yale degree supposed to lead us through the jungle, McBride? Responded Tetherby aloud without looking back "Besides my father told me never judge a man on where he drinks, only how he holds it. Now keep a look out."
Tetherby headed further down the sidewalk and Clyde followed, he had the geologist do the research on their target, where he was, the places he frequented, it hadn't been easy but he was a man who liked to be prepared.
Past the Opera house, they took a short-cut through an alleyway , a short walk later and they were opening the door of bar Clyde had researched to determine was their guy's more frequent hangouts.
Back water wasn't the right word, the outside was modern and the inside was well lite, and spacious, filled with laughter and shouts over rugby games and the clinking of glassware. Out of all the bars either Clyde or Tetherby had stepped foot in, it was one of the nicest.
Stepping further inside, someone bumped into Clyde, alcohol nearly dripping on him.
"Oh, sorry about that." The person apologized.
Clyde told them not to worry, he has been prepared when he heard they were looking for a bar and was wearing one of his more casual outfits. Tetherby stopped and peered around as Clyde caught up.
"Well, you see him?"
"Not yet." Came the answer and they headed for the bar, if he was a regular it was likely the tender would know him.
Tetherby approached the bar, Clyde trailing behind him, Tetherby shouldered hid way into a gap and waved over the woman wiping down the counter, judging by her demeanor, she was also the proprietor.
"What can I get you two?" She said coming over.
"Have you seem this man, recently?" Tetherby held out a photograph. "We're informed he's often here.
"Why?" Her curiosity piqued. "He's not a suspect in anything, is he?"
"No, No." Tetherby assured her. "We're just looking to talk to him about something."
The bartender looked them both over, Clyde smiled easily, thinking it might help put her at ease. A moment later she jabbed her thumb towards the side.
"Pool table, in the back."
They thanked the barkeep and headed through the crowd, at the back of the room, partially hidden among a crowd of onlookers was a single pool table that was the battleground for a current game. Despite the crowd, one stood out to both.
"That him?" Clyde wondered.
"Yes, that's him."
The man in question stood an inch taller then Clyde, straight-faced that sported a scruffy beard and boasted a muscled but unimposing built compared to his opponent, his eyes betrayed his military bearing however, sharp and focused, like a jaguar on the prowl.
As they watched he potted the eight ball to win the match and straightened up, reaching for the pile of bills on the table's edge.
His opponent was faster, slamming his hand down on top of his, glaring so close they were nose to nose.
"You cheated." His voice thick and slurring from having too much to drink.
"Kind of hard to cheat at pool." Their guy coolly replied.
The accuser staring him down had a good three inches on him and made him look weak by comparison, but he stared him nose to nose, not moving.
In a blur of motion the pool cue suddenly smacked against the drunks hand, he cried out as the cue's thick end jabbed into his gut, winding him, the ex-soldiers hand wrapped around his neck to slam his head into the tables edge. Reeling, he stumbled backwards, tripped over a stool and went down on his back. His buddy came forwards with a empty bottle to smash against the man's unsuspecting head, only he was expecting it, holding the cue with both hands, the thick end arced up to connect between his legs, he let out a high octave "Eeeeeeppp!", and folded in half as the thin end cracked against his temple, breathless and clutching his bruised manhood, he rolled over, facing the wall, groaning.
Drunk number three chucked a pool ball the he just avoided, when the second one came, the pool cue was in motion again, batting back to connect with his throat, and drunk three went down in a gagging heap.
Barely fazed, and holding the cue in his right hand, ready for the next attack, he looked around at the other spectators just as drunk three emptied his gut all over the floor before collapsing face first in the puddle, his eyes caught Tetherby and Clyde briefly and he brow furrowed, like he sensed their intent, before flicking back around the crowd.
No one else made a move and shortly the cue returned to the table as the money was scooped up, stepping over to drunk three, he calmly reached over and lifted his head and tilted so his mouth was facing sideways before letting it drop back down to sleep it off.
The chatter around the bar picked back up as patrons returned to their drinks, almost like the brawl never happened, and as their target strolled to the bar Tetherby and Clyde followed him with their eyes.
"Now there's a man worth talking to."
Plopping down in the nearest stool, a twenty dollar bill was placed on the counter.
"Melborne bitter."
The Lager appeared before him, beer in hand, he counted down the seconds and right on time the elderly man he saw in the crowd sat beside him. He knew something was up, they appeared like tourist, but the eyes never lie, the way they stared at him, he knew, they were looking for him.
"I'll have what he's having." A second beer was placed before his shadow.
He didn't took another pull on his drink, savoring the bitter, foamy taste, not saying anything, any second now.
"Captain Zhane Mitchell, I presume?"
Right on time.
"What's left of him."
"A moment of your time?"
"I'm busy."
Clyde's gaze shifted around, beyond the initial gawking no one seemed the least bit fazed Zhane had just whipped three of the patrons without even getting winded.
"Doing what?"
Zhane held up his winnings "spending this."
"We can make it worth your while." Tetherby threw a roll of bills on the counter, it rolled along and bumped into his hand, Tetherby held his breath, watching and waiting.
Zhane looked from Tetherby to Clyde then the money, then pocketed the cash.
"All right, talk."
Tetherby exhaled , not even realizing he was holding his breath, he wasn't in the clear with this guy yet, but he had bought his interest. Now all he had to do was win him over.
And we're almost have all the characters.
For those of you who don't know the Tom Hiddleston characters name, Zhane Mitchell combines two Power Ranger's names, Zhane, Power Rangers in Space Silver ranger, and Ryan Mitchell (Rhett Fishers character) Light speed Rescue Titanium Ranger.