Chapter 78.
Virgil had been a sensitive child.
From the moment he'd come home, it had been clear he was the polar opposite of Scott.
Angry words distressed him, sudden movements startled him, and loud noises terrified him. He cried incessantly and was clingy, a challenging trait when Jeff and Lucy's hands were already full with the boisterous, don't-take-orders-from-nobody Scott, who seemed intent on tormenting his baby brother into an early grave.
Despite being only slightly older, Scott quickly assumed the role of alpha and made it his top priority to antagonise his new brother at every opportunity. Beakers of milk intended for Virgil somehow always ended up in Scott's mouth, toys intended for Virgil somehow always ended up in Scott's room, and cuddles intended for Virgil somehow always ended up taking detours down Scott Street before arriving at Virgil Avenue.
Despite the apparent glee he got from making his new sibling regret his existence, Scott also fell head over heels in love with his new companion. One of his favourite things to do was to sit next to Virgil's crib and insert his hands through the bars, his little fingers tracing lines on whatever part of his sleeping brother's body he could reach.
Virgil responded well to such treatment. On the occasions where he started crying and refused to stop, Scott would step in. So successful were his interventions that Lucy and Jeff began bypassing the nappy/feed/burp ritual and just handed their second son over to his older brother whenever he began to fuss. A true blessing when they found themselves preoccupied with baby John a short while later.
Facts were facts, and it was a fact that Scott had learnt to be a caretaker before he'd even mastered his two times tables.
Unfortunately, his caretaker instinct was both his greatest asset and worst enemy. Being the eldest of five was a full-time job, and he had struggled all his life with locating the line that separated brother from parent. The struggle had been taken out of his hands when Lucy had died and Jeff had disappeared, but there had been no relief. Just a sad, broken acceptance at being forced to grow up overnight.
Virgil had borne the brunt of Scott's stress as they'd struggled to carry on after losing their parents. Gordon and Alan didn't have the bad behaviour gene, but Scott's smothering instinct hadn't made growing up under his care a breeze either. Thankfully, Virgil had been around to soften the edges of his micromanaging.
Unfortunately, it was the same emotional stability that made Virgil the yin to Scott's yang that was cracking under the tirade of verbal abuse Scott was hurling at him. As it turned out, the bee in his bonnet had nothing to do with his jealousy over Kayo, and everything to do with life in general.
Alan's latest report card contained several comments that had him worried. Their youngest brother's attention sometimes waned, and his usual straight-A grades were starting to react as a result. Did he perhaps have an undiagnosed learning disability? Did he require testing? Should they have already gotten him tested? Was the school expecting them to get him tested? Had he been deprived of some essential nutrient as a baby?
John's aversion to going on a date with Ridley O'Bannon was yet another source of worry. Was he that socially inept, or was he hiding something? Had Scott set a bad example growing up? Would his ginger brother ever form a meaningful relationship with another person, or was he destined to live out his days in a monastery on some dim, distant asteroid? Also, why didn't he come home more often? Did he really love Thunderbird Five that much, or was he trying to put some distance between himself and the rest of the family?
And finally, Virgil's sensitivity. It was and had always been a cause for concern in Scott's book. What if he gave his heart to the wrong person and ended up broken beyond repair? Or what if he never gave it to anyone, period? He'd made it clear in the past that he had no interest in stepping on Scott's toes, but what if it was Scott himself who was holding him back? What if his sensitivity meant that he deliberately sacrificed his own desires in order to lighten the collective load?
There could be no arguing with Scott once he got locked in a downward spiral. Within the confines of his brain, he believed that he was single-handedly responsible for every imaginary flaw his brothers possessed. Thanks to him, their destiny could be summed up in two words: Eternal Misery.
Virgil sighed and shook his head. He knew he'd have more luck trying to pull an elephant along with an elastic band than try and convince Scott that he wasn't to blame for anything.
"And of course, you just had to bulldoze in and complicate things with Kayo," Scott spat, rounding his monologue off with a glare that turned his eyes into icicles.
Virgil blinked. He was aware that Scott was trying to transfer his frustration and was quite happy to act as a sponge for his stress, but not without a fair trial first. The evidence was in his favour, since Kayo had been the one to ask him to be her date. Not the other way around.
"You're overreacting," Virgil replied, quirking a brow when Scott pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and began to squelch off, "Oh, c'mon. Quit being a pain in the ass. You're acting like a spoilt brat."
Icicles turned to icebergs as Scott whirled around and retraced his steps, "And who do you think is responsible for driving me to this point, huh? You may like to think of yourself as the peacekeeper, but the only peace you've ever brought me is that piece of untuned trash you call a piano. All those lessons and you still can't nail a C13 chord properly. Shameful."
It took three whole seconds for Scott to realise that he'd just conformed perfectly to Virgil's spoilt brat title. Unable to deal with the obvious chink in his armour, he spun on his heel and charted a furious course towards the nearest source of alcohol. His heart was racing and his head hurt. The last thing he felt like doing was losing face by turning back and apologising. Besides, the stone-cold guilt that was already gnawing at his stomach was a much more fitting punishment.
As Virgil closed his eyes and tried to call upon the emotional stability he was acclaimed for, Havoc made her move. Swooping in like a designer clad demon, she sidled up next him, her expression a painted picture of ardent worship. As far as he knew, she was just another besotted young woman whose lifetime ambition had been to meet him and his big green bathtub.
A sniff and a clumsy drag of a hand across a chiselled face revealed a pair of watery brown eyes.
Havoc's own eyes widened with glee.
Virgil Tracy was, quite bluntly, a sitting duck.
-x-
Scott felt regret slice at his heartstrings as he steamrolled his way over to Penelope and accepted the glass of wine she wordlessly pushed into his hand.
"I swear, that pansy of a painter will be the death of me," he muttered, taking an overgenerous swig of what tasted like a very expensive Pinot Noir.
Penelope shrugged and toyed with her champagne flute, "He's not done anything wrong. You've been faffing around with Kayo for ages, so she took matters into her own hands and stirred the jealousy casserole by asking him instead of you. And you fell for it, hook, line and sinker. Stop fooling yourself and just ask her out already."
Scott felt his forehead crease in confusion, "How do you know all this?"
Penelope raised a manicured finger and tapped it against her nose, "I have my sources."
A sigh travelled up Scott's throat as he cast his eyes around the room. Kayo and Kat Cavanaugh were sat on a sofa tucked away in one of the far corners of the room, their heads bent in conversation. Alan was chatting animatedly to Brandon Berrenger while enthusiastically pointing at a holographic display of Thunderbird Three's blueprints. On the dancefloor, Grandma and Kip Harris were trying their hands at salsa dancing. Gordon and John were nowhere to be seen.
Out on the terrace, Virgil seemed to be enjoying the company of a woman Scott didn't recognise. Even from a distance, it was obvious that he was upset.
What a mess.
-x-
Virgil's eyes widened somewhat as an attractive and overly confident young woman sashayed up to him and smiled brightly, "Can I help you?"
"Virgil Tracy?" the woman asked, squinting slightly as she scanned his features. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar, but not enough to raise suspicion.
Virgil hiccupped slightly and nodded, "At your service."
Havoc resisted the urge to snort. The sight of the biggest, most imposing Tracy brother holding back tears was nothing short of hilarious.
'At my service indeed.'
Havoc quickly schooled her features into an expression of barely contained excitement, "Oh, Mr Tracy, it's such an honour to finally meet you! You saved my family's lives from that terrible hurricane that tore through Tallahassee six months ago. Thanks to you, my mother lived to see her sixtieth birthday last week."
Virgil managed a misty smile, "The pleasure is all mine. Did the local government live up to their promise and compensate you for the property you lost?"
Havoc felt herself falter, her lifelong habit of not doing her homework coming back to bite her in the ass.
"I'm sorry, I didn't even ask your name," Virgil slapped a palm against his forehead, "Forgive me, I'm not operating at full power right now."
A surge of confidence blasted away the tendrils of panic travelling up Havoc's spine. She may have forgotten to do her research on her character's hometown, but she hadn't forgotten to do her research on the Tracys. She'd picked her character's name with care and had found inspiration from beyond the grave.
"Lucy," Havoc replied, "Lucy Nicholson."
The shaky hold Virgil had on his emotions slipped slightly, "That's a lovely name. My mom was called Lucy, you know."
Havoc knew, but didn't care. Her plan had worked. Virgil was now twice as emotionally unbalanced as he'd been two minutes ago.
"I wouldn't be alive today if you hadn't come to my rescue," she gushed, "I owe you so much."
"Just doing my job."
"And now you're going to let me do mine," Havoc purred, zeroing in on Virgil's lips. To her utter shock, he managed to twist his head away before she could get too close. His chivalry was rewarded with an angry whine.
"Uh, thank you," Virgil stammered, "But you owe me nothing."
Havoc scowled, "That's for me to decide. I just said that you saved my family's life. How would you feel if a stranger saved one of your brother's lives, huh? Wouldn't you want to repay them?"
"Thank you, but we don't accept that kind of gratitude," Virgil replied, turning his head to the side again when Havoc leant in a second time, "Have you been drinking? I'm happy to cover the cost of a cab if you need to get home safely."
A girlish giggle skipped out of Havoc's throat as she seized Virgil by the hair, locking him in place. He was bigger and stronger than her, but she knew the odds of him using his strength against a, seemingly, defenceless woman were about as slim as Fuse's chances of getting into college.
"Your attempts at resistance are endearing," she whispered, faltering when she spied Scott and Penelope marching across the terrace towards them.
"Hey, Virgil," Scott began casually, his eyes fixed on the hold Havoc had on his brother's scalp, "Who's your friend?"
"Guys, this is Lucy," Virgil began, smiling in spite of his obvious discomfort, "I rescued her and her family from Hurricane Chelsea a few months ago. I think she's a bit tipsy, so go easy on her."
Penelope scowled at the way Virgil was allowing himself to be treated, "Intoxication is no excuse for violence. Excuse me? Lucy, was it? Kindly relinquish the hold you have on my friend."
Havoc felt herself start to panic. Under normal circumstances, she would have decked the blond woman for daring to speak to her in such a way. As things stood, she was outnumbered three to one and still didn't have an ounce of DNA for her efforts.
Time for desperate measures.
Switching her focus from the prudish Virgil onto the warmer-blooded Scott, Havoc catapulted herself at the eldest Tracy and urgently smashed her face against his.
Penelope dropped her glass in shock.
Thirty feet away, an apocalyptic expression descended over Kayo's features. Knocking back the contents of her champagne glass in one effortless slug, she kicked off her heels and stormed towards the stranger snogging the man she fancied.
Snogging that, unbeknownst to her, was actually DNA farming.
"Cheers, sucker!" Havoc hissed upon breaking free from a rather traumatised Scott. Taking advantage of the brief pause that ensued as everyone tried to wrap their heads around what had just happened, she seized and plucked a fingerful of the eldest Tracy's hair before bolting off like a bat out of hell. After charting a course towards the nearest exit, she pulled out a small glass vial and promptly spat into it.
"Boss!" she yelled, sprinting past a small cluster of confused guests in a blur of black, "I've got the samples. Fingerprints are on my dress, saliva is in the test tube, and I even got some hair."
"Excellent work," The Hood drawled, his voice oozing through her earpiece, "Report back to the Chaos Cruiser immediately. I'm sending Fuse your location."
"Copy that," Havoc panted, skidding around a corner and charging towards the coordinates that had just flagged up on her holographic communicator.
CRASH.
All the air was knocked out of Havoc's lungs as someone smashed into her from behind, sending her sprawling on the floor. The combined weight of two bodies hitting the deck in perfect unison was sufficient to shatter the glass vial containing Scott's DNA.
A shriek of rage tore out of Havoc's throat as she twisted to face her pursuer, only to be met with the same pair of brown eyes she'd seen staring back at her from the murky depths of the Marindata Ventfields.
Gordon.