He hated waiting. More than anything, Scott hated having to wait when his family needed him, but there was no rushing the goons they'd expected would be in to remove the "bodies". As it was, he was laying as still as possible along the medical bed as though his oxygen had run out and he'd simply gone to sleep. He knew he should be focused on the dull sounds coming through Four's hull, but his thoughts kept wandering with the pulse of his aching head. Gordon was out there, alone to fight who knew how many enemies. It should've been him, the older brother risking his life to get them both home. Instead, he was trapped within a dead sub, running out of air while he depended on an unknown group to come to him.
The sound of a hatch being forced open was his first sign that his wait was over, and acted as a beacon to his mind. Fingers tightened around the tool Gordon had given him, centering himself around its weight. Scott knew how much damage it could do and he hoped it would be enough to take down the poor souls dumb enough to attack his family.
Water rushing out of Thunderbird 4 was his next sign. They were in and he could hear them joking beyond the hatch, "Oh wow, looks like the idiots flooded themselves. Not the brightest lot, are they."
"Let's just clear'em out and get this thing back to the island," another voice, more reserved than the first.
"In a sec," they were inside, "Not every day you get to go inside a Thunderbird." The sound of boots filled the sub, but Scott didn't dare move. Not until he was certain their guard was down.
"That's one of'em isn't it," the second man sounded hesitant. "A member of international rescue."
"Not any more," a chuckle and Scott felt a fire start to burn through his chest from more than just holding his breath. "C'mon, let's check the cockpit."
More steps moved past and a sliver of blue peaked out from behind Scott's eyelids. Their attention had shifted, focused on the front of the yellow sub. He couldn't have asked for more.
The fire burst through his chest as Scott swung his legs silently over the edge of the bed, the pain in his ribs barely noticeable above his intent. He was on his feet before the second man could turn around, eyes growing wide in fear at seeing a dead man come to life. The blow from the wrench was swift and his target fell against the wall, Scott stepping over the man's legs to confront the source of his rage.
They wanted to kill us… this man would have killed Gordon without blinking… and the thought of the broad man laying a hand on his brother sent the weapon across the surprised face. Another step and Scott swung again, catching the side of the man's head. It was enough, the figure falling into the shadows of the lifeless helm, no longer an immediate threat.
Time seemed to slow as Scott unhooked his helmet and let it fall to the floor, breathing in the oxygen and the smell of machinery. Training told him to stay alert, secure the area of any other threats before taking stock of the here and now, but all he could do was breathe as he stared at the unconscious man. Slowly, the pain in his abdomen drew him back to the light streaming in through Thunderbird 4's windows. No movement. No threat in his immediate view.
Scott's free hand wrapped around his chest, the other gripping the weapon tighter. Tie these two up and go find Gordon… his own voice commanded and he obeyed, extracting two zip-ties from the drawer his brother had shown him. Positioning the men had been the hardest part, his body arguing with every movement until he was left gasping against the medical bed he'd leapt from a few minutes ago. A bead of sweat trickled over his temple and he swatted it away with a steady intake of oxygen before he stood.
Gordon… the name motivated the new burst of adrenaline as Scott moved to the back of his brother's sub, peering cautiously around the sides for anyone he had missed. To his relief, the compartment was empty, a fact that was confirmed as he came around Four's front. Scott could just make out the sheen of water leading towards an open hatch. Considering their plan, it was the only direction that seemed plausible to go.
Footsteps light as he moved through the cramped corridor, Scott's nerves buzzed, his ears alert for any sign of life that might not be his brother. He wouldn't let himself think about the people sent to ensure their death and steal their technology. He couldn't think about what was happening at home, unable to do anything about it even if he knew. All he needed to focus on was Gordon and keeping him safe… no matter how much he'd already failed in that endeavor.
Regardless of how capable Scott knew the aquanaut was, his chest still tightened and stomach rolled at the idea of anyone hurting him. Not again. Never again.
The soft thud of boots sent the hair on the back of his neck on end and the weapon was up before he could think. The commander's breath caught in his throat, waiting, listening, and then, the figure turned the corner and he swung.
A curse accompanied the blur of blonde hair and blue-yellow uniform, reflexes faster than Scott's as a hand caught his wrist before he could abort the attack.
No impact, but damn close.
"It's me, it's me!" Gordon let go as the brunette's arm fell with the rush of held breath.
"Sorry, I was just…"
"Coming to help?" A lopsided grin that held humor and relief. "Same. You okay?"
"Yeah, got two guys bundled up in the back of Thunderbird 4," Scott offered while eyeing the discoloration on Gordon's cheek. "How about you?"
"Three, all secure in the galley," the smile fell as he spoke. "That seems to be all of them."
"We'll do a full sweep of the ship, just to be sure," because he'd had enough surprises for one day.
An "FAB" and they began the quick work of checking each room on the sub. Most of the areas were crew quarters or storage. One room held what looked like the engine, but with devices strapped to it that Gordon couldn't identify. Scott didn't care what they were as long as the sub could get them back to Tracy Island.
They eventually made their way back to the helm, Gordon working at the controls to get them turned around and on autopilot. The radio remained silent as they waited for the course to lock in, Scott wondering if the crew had already alerted their people that they had Thunderbird 4. He hoped so. If these people were as organized as he suspected, lack of communications would raise suspicions. As it stood, they didn't dare try calling for help from the GDF. Who knew who would be listening. No, this was their mission now, and would be until they took back their home.
"All set," Gordon offered as he stood from the pilot's chair.
"Where are you going?" The commander asked as he watched his brother move towards the doorway.
"Gonna see if there's an infirmary, or at least some medical supplies," a wary smile played across the aquanaut's face, but it held little of his brother's spirit behind it as he left the room. The situation was too dire for the usual antics and Scott wasn't sure if Gordon's response worried him more than it reassured him. When Gordon was serious, it meant he was hiding himself. He didn't want to give these people any part of the man he normally was. It couldn't last long, though. The Gordon he knew always had a way of interjecting sunshine into darkness.
Sitting, alone, in the quiet of the cockpit, Scott began to search. Readouts were present above the controls, but the information he wanted hadn't presented itself. Such a simple thing and they didn't have it here. No matter how many times he went over the displays, nothing appeared. It was maddening and he sat back down in a huff of frustration, only to be reminded of the ribs that had taken a beating.
"Dumb," he hissed, breathing through the pain until it subsided. What use was he going to be in a fight if he made his injuries worse? None. He'd be a liability that could get himself or his family killed.
Minutes that felt longer ticked by as his body gave back the control he needed, his gaze sweeping over the room once more for anything useful. He quickly noticed that Gordon hadn't returned yet, which wasn't necessarily unusual, but still managed to set the hair on his neck on end. If they had missed someone, his brother could've been ambushed and that didn't sit well with the commander.
Pushing himself up on limbs that were quickly succumbing to the decrease in adrenaline, Scott began the cautious path back through the sub. It didn't take long, however, to figure out where his brother had gone. The galley door stood open, a string of curses floating through the air that were definitely not coming from Gordon.
"For that, I'll get to you last," Gordon answered and as Scott rounded the entryway, he found his brother crouched next to one of the unconscious crew members. The ice pack and bandages answered the brunette's unspoken question.
"Hey, need any help?" Scott asked now that Mr Foul-Mouth had stopped talking, reverting to a glare instead.
It became obvious that Gordon hadn't noticed him yet as he jumped, eyes wide towards the door before he deflated. "Oh, hey! Yeah, I think I grabbed enough supplies."
Scott found one of the packs at the center of the room and began surveying who might need it first. It didn't go unnoticed that the two from Thunderbird 4 had been brought into the space, each crewmember strategically positioned away from each other and tied to something stable to prevent escape. He decided on helping the one that served his own needs as well, crouching on Gordon's other side to triage an unconscious man he hadn't been forced to fight.
"How are you holding up?" The question was whispered, meant only to be heard by brothers.
"Been better," came back just as low, a hint of regret catching the aquanaut's tone.
Scott didn't respond, not immediately, blue eyes flicking up to see his brother's face. His expression remained neutral, simply working through the task they'd done hundreds of times for rescue victims. As his gaze moved back to his charge, a bit more understanding seeped in at the sight of the wrench-shaped bruise forming over the side of the man's head. "Not exactly a typical mission for us, but you're doing a good job."
A slight grimace pinched at the blonde's face, "Don't get me wrong, Scott, but bludgeoning people into head trauma isn't what I'd consider a good job." The sound of bandage tape filled the silence left by Gordon's sentiment, the aquanaut wrapping it around the ice pack to keep it in place. Scott followed suit with his own crewman, still watching his brother sporadically until he heard the resigned sigh, "But I get it. Consequences for attacking our family. I just wish it wasn't necessary."
They both stood, swelling taken care of for the two unconscious men, and Scott caught his brother's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, "Me too. Just a little longer and we'll hopefully never have to do this again."
Gordon nodded, flashing him a more reassuring smile before grabbing two new packs of supplies and handing him one, "We'll just keep doing our jobs until then."
"FAB, little brother," his own smile grew, taking the kit and heading for their next victim. Despite Gordon's thoughts on the matter, they hadn't caused as much damage as they could have. Scott could still recall the tone of one to the men he'd taken out and how much he'd wanted to protect his brother from someone who cared little for their lives. Given the opportunity, the commander knew it would be them or him. He couldn't hold back if it meant his family's life or theirs.
"Hold still," the warning came from behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see Gordon approaching the conscious man from earlier. There was a thin trail of blood coming from the right side of his head, stemming from what looked to be a sizable lump.
"You're gonna regret this," the man spat. "The boss expects perfection. Running for help will only alert him to our failure and doom your family."
With a great deal of restraint, Gordon gently pressed the ice pack onto the man's head, unable to hold back the grin as it still produced a hiss from the wounded man. "Shut up and let me do my j-"
The movement was lightning fast, the man's legs kicking up to wrap around either side of Gordon's head. In the next second, the blonde was thrown to the floor, hands clawing at the appendages as they crossed and tightened around his neck.
"Get off him!" Scott growled as he lunged forward. His hands grappled with the top leg, muscles straining to pull it away from his brother, however, the man had hooked his foot under the other leg effectively locking him in place. Another critical second ticked by, Gordon's face growing red, and Scott acted, grabbing the wrench from his belt in the next beat. The sound of metal connecting with skull bounced off the walls, followed closely by air being sucked into lungs that hadn't been ready.
Abandoning his weapon on the floor, Scott quickly moved to pull Gordon clear of his attacker. The blonde's face had lightened, but he remained where he sat on the floor, knees up and forehead resting atop them as he breathed. Scott didn't speak, taking a seat next to him and wrapping an arm across his back. Blue eyes glared at the unconscious man who had done this, a new stream of blood mixing with the old. No, violence wasn't their job, but heaven help anyone who dared lay a hand on his family.