Baldrics made for really good handles in an emergency.
He supposed that was part of the reason why Dad had insisted on keeping them in their uniform redesign since they couldn't grab anyone by the back of their shirt anymore, not with their snug fitting uniforms.
A vaguely related thought floated through his mind, his memory flashing back to years ago when someone, probably Scott, had complained that managing younger siblings would be so much easier if you could just scruff them like a kitten. The intentions behind scruffing a kitten and grabbing his sibling were remarkably similar- you are here, you need to be there and this is how I'm going to make it happen despite your personal feelings on the matter.
The mechanics of it all were simple enough.
Lock feet into place, stance wide for balance and weight shift.
Grab the baldric at the shoulder and hip.
Lift from the legs, twist from the hips, push from the shoulders and translate motion into momentum.
Throw Gordon out of danger.
"Virgil, no!" That was Scott, dangling above them and ten meters short, all his grapple packs expended.
He could see the long lessons practiced until they became muscle memory kicking in, his brother automatically twisting in mid air to land in a crouch, eyes wide as Gordon looked at him and realised exactly how he'd gone from there to here. Muscle memory kicked in again, Gordon's hands reaching for the grapple launcher that wasn't there, the cable pack that should have been tucked in it's pouch but wasn't.
Then the floor of the damaged building collapsed and Virgil vanished with it.