Chapter 63.

Virgil could count the number of times he'd seen Scott scared shitless on the fingers of one hand.

He chose not to include the day when Alan had lost his first tooth. Scott had almost died upon seeing all the blood and had calmed down only after manically shining a flashlight around his mouth for ten minutes. It had truly been a sight to behold. The tall, fearless and somewhat imposing leader of International Rescue freaking out like a dolphin caught in a tuna net.

Virgil gave a hiss of impatience as he yanked the lighting brackets down to initiate Thunderbird One's launch sequence. At six foot three, Scott was quite capable of causing damage to both himself and his surroundings when panicked. This normally wasn't too much of a problem, but considering he was currently suspended approximately sixty-five feet above a very hard concrete floor, the situation couldn't exactly be considered 'normal.'

Plus, he was tipsy, and tipsy Scott was irrational Scott.

Virgil felt himself gulp as he eyed the narrow chute containing his brother's uniform. His own launch chute to Thunderbird Two was fast, but it travelled horizontally instead of vertically. There was just something about plummeting downwards at a zillion miles an hour in a confined space that triggered his fear of being stuck inside a malfunctioning elevator cab.

Still, Scott needed him. A little claustrophobia and a weightless stomach was a small price to pay for his beloved big brother's safety.

Two strides, and Virgil was stood in front of Scott's uniform. The motion sensitive sensors within the chute responded to his movement and the circular platform upon which the uniform was suspended slowly began to descend.

Virgil regretted his decision instantly. He should have listened to Alan and used Thunderbird Three's crane. Dozens of individual lights flashed past his eyes as the lift torpedoed its way down to Thunderbird One's launch bay. Almost immediately, several robotic arms began to protrude from the wall, their mechanical hands grabbing and yanking at his clothing.

Ah, yes. He'd forgotten about those.

Unfortunately, manoeuvring space inside the supersonic chute was limited. The robotic grabs had been installed in locations to fit Scott's measurements, and Virgil was a good few inches shorter than his brother and a good few pounds heavier. It was all he could do to prevent one of the arms from shredding his jeans to pieces.

As one of the arms seized a clawful of tartan shirt and pulled, Virgil felt a new sensation wash over him. The weightless feeling in his stomach was traveling up his spine and making itself at home inside his head. His balance was thrown off and a curse tore out of his mouth when one of the arms grabbed at a particularly sensitive body part.

Wait…was the chute revolving?

As if travelling at the speed of light wasn't already enough. No wonder Scott sometimes emerged into the hangar looking a little green around the gills.

Virgil was just thanking his lucky stars that he hadn't been able to finish his dinner, when both of the arms that were responsible for dressing Scott's torso grasped at his shirt and yanked hard, tearing a sleeve clean off. Dread slid down his spine as he watched the amputated piece of fabric wedge itself between the lift and the chute wall. A few seconds later, a loud crunching sound reverberated up and down the shaft as the entire suit up procedure ground to a rather undignified halt.

Buggeration.

It was only after several minutes of trying, and failing, to locate an emergency button that Virgil realised that, despite his modesty still being intact, he was now as stuck as Scott.

Double buggeration.

-x-

Kayo let out a puff of satisfaction as she scrambled along the craggy section of rock that sat atop Thunderbird Two's hanger, Penelope close on her heels.

"I must say," Penelope gasped, pausing to swipe a manicured hand across her brow, "This isn't exactly the easiest run I've ever done."

Kayo smirked and waited for the terrain to even out slightly before breaking into an enthusiastic jog, "We've got to work with what we've got. Scott has a route that he likes to take down by Three's silo, but it's at the mercy of the tide. This way's a little steeper, but the rocks are good for balance training. How's Parker doing?"

Penelope glanced back at her driver, who looked on the verge of death, "He'll be fine. We don't run that often back home, so he's a little out of shape."

"Fair enough," Kayo shrugged and put on a burst of speed, her thighs humming, "To be honest, it's kind of nice to have company for a change."

Penelope smiled, "The pleasure is all mine, Kayo. It's nice to see Tracy Island from a different angle."

Kayo nodded and slowed her pace, aware that Parker was now completely out of sight. Closing her eyes, she allowed the tropical sea breeze to cool her flushed face.

A loud wheeze and an explosive gasp informed her that Parker was making about as much progress as an asthmatic snail.

Kayo took a long swig from her water container before plopping herself down on a nearby rock, "Snog, marry, avoid: Tracy Edition. Which Tracy would you snog, which would you marry, and which would you avoid?"

Penelope gave an owlish blink.

"C'mon," Kayo coaxed, her eyes shining with girlish humour, "This is the first time you and I have been properly alone all week. Plus, iR protocol states that members have a professional duty to gossip about each other when not on the job."

Two immaculate blond brows shot up in a mixture of confusion and amusement, "Well, I certainly wouldn't want to be in breach of any official rules. Are we including Grandma and Celery?"

Kayo screwed up her face, "Not unless you have aspirations to marry the granny or snog the dog."

Penelope hummed in concentration, a manicured finger resting on her chin, "I reckon I'd snog Gordon, marry Virgil, and avoid Scott. Gordon's got a heart of gold, but something about the way Virgil carries himself tells me he'd make a reliable partner. As for Scott, I'm afraid I couldn't live with his temper. He's a gem, but a bit too volatile for my liking. What about you?"

Kayo's eyes widened in shock at her colleague's admission, "Seriously? I'd snog Alan, because the look on his face would be priceless, marry Scott, because he's Scott for goodness sake, and avoid John. I've tried to see the world from his perspective, but I can't stick my head that far up my ass."

Penelope snickered and helped herself to a sip of Kayo's water, "Fair enough. Still, I doubt we'll be tying the knot anytime soon. Think of the inheritance tax."

Both women jumped as a hand suddenly materialised over a nearby rock, dragging a boneless Parker behind it.

"May I 'ave a say, m'lady?" Parker heaved, coughing slightly as he tried to get air into his lungs.

Penelope hurried over to help her driver to his feet, "A say about what, Parker?"

A beat passed before the ruddy-faced Parker caught his breath enough to reply, "I'd snog Mister Virgil, because 'e definitely 'as the nicest looks, then I'd marry Master Alan, because 'e would be the easiest to financially manipulate, and I'd avoid Mister Gordon, because 'e stinks of trouble."

Kayo's eyes nearly fell out of her head. She'd always assumed that Parker had chosen to remain unmarried out of his loyalty to Penelope. The images the self-proclaimed 'Grey Ninja' had just put in her head told a very different story indeed.

"Good to know, Parker."

-x-

Gordon had checked high and low.

And then high again, just to be sure.

After finding no trace of Penelope or Kayo, he'd aborted his search and was on his way back to the hanger to volunteer his own help instead. He was halfway down the stairwell when a soft echo caught his attention.

Pausing mid-stride, Gordon strained his ears to try and pinpoint the exact location of the sound. It was tinny and distant and could have quite easily been mistaken for the acoustic signature of a faulty household appliance. Still, there was something about its regularity and indiscernible location that made him curious.

As far as he knew, the washing machine wasn't capable of speaking English.

Putting his concern for Scott on momentary hold, Gordon scurried back into the lounge and cast his eyes around in search of the sound's location. It was definitely louder upstairs, loud enough for certain words to actually be distinguishable.

"Guys! Hello? Guys!"

Gordon's eyes widened. There could be no mistaking his favourite brother's deep, baritone voice, "Virgil? Where are you?"

No reply.

"Virgil? Where are you?" Gordon bellowed, wincing in pain and surprise at his own voice's volume.

"Scott's chute!" came the muffled reply, accompanied by a series of metallic sounding thumps.

Gordon wasted no time springing into action. He had to hop in order to reach the lighting brackets, courtesy of Scott's giraffe gene. Upon entering his brother's uniform compartment, he took immediate note of the giant hole in the floor where the launch chute normally sat.

"Virg?" Gordon called, dropping to his hands and knees and peering down the seemingly bottomless shaft, "You down there?"

"Yes," came the weak reply. Whether said weakness came from sheer humiliation or something else, Gordon couldn't tell.

"Hang tight, I'm coming down!" he yelled, reaching for the discarded pile of rope that Virgil had either deliberately left or unintentionally dropped prior to getting swallowed by Scott's chute. After quickly looping the rope around his waist and securing it to a panel on the wall with a trusty figure eight knot, he began to slowly climb down the shaft.

"I've still got the spare safety harness!" Virgil yelled, praying to every god out there that Gordon wouldn't slip and fall on him.

"Not gunna happen!" Gordon replied, his voice tense as he scanned for footholds and handholds, "You're far too heavy for me to lift on my own. I'm going to try and fix the chute. It looks like something might be blocking its descent."

Virgil's eyes narrowed as he glared at his torn sleeve.

Five minutes later, Gordon was close enough to survey the damage, "Eh, doesn't look too bad. I should be able to dislodge it with my pocket knife."

Virgil felt his blood turn to ice, "Have you lost your mind?"

Gordon smirked and began sawing at the offending sleeve, "No. Half of it wandered off and the other half went looking for it."

Twang.

A scream capable of stripping the grain off a two-by-four echoed around the shaft as the lift free fell the remainder of the way down to the launch bay, taking a near hysterical Virgil with it.

Approximately three seconds later, all the lights inside the shaft went out, leaving Gordon suspended in pitch blackness.

Triple buggeration.