All Expenses Paid
Hey folks! Here's the next segment, of course I apologise for the delay but I do hope you enjoy this instalment!
And as usual I own nothing…this is even being typed on stolen goods… - unless you work in law enforcement, in which case it isn't and errr…I just made this awkward… ENJOY!
Chapter 4
Scott looked over the catastrophe which had once been an office. To say there had been a scuffle was an understatement. He had seen the elevator on the way up to the offices; it had the majority of the electronic panelling spilled across the floor and a smoking hole where a blowtorch had been used to gain access.
Sighing in frustration he kicked one of the many metal bins across the room taking grim satisfaction in the way it crashed into the nearest desk. He had read the overly detailed police report, right before they had sneaked it to the nearest reporter. He kicked out again, this time his foot meeting the solid desk leg beside the dented bin. The pain wasn't sharp as he had hoped for though. It was numbing. Perhaps if he kicked harder?
As he drew his foot back again though a hand grasped his shoulder, followed by a low chuckle.
Virgil had thrown up six times in the past fifteen minutes. He was surprised he had anything left in him to go for number seven, but that came and went, he must have been into double digits by now. He forced his pounding head up from the floor to look across the room towards his comatose brother.
They weren't shackled.
But Virgil made no move towards John. Since waking up almost twenty minutes ago the only movement he had found himself capable of during this time was a small roll onto his other side and that had caused his head to spin and stomach to protest violently. He clenched his eyes shut as another wave of nausea washed over him. When he reopened them, John was no longer in his corner.
Jeff chuckled softly as he grabbed Scotts' shoulder, fully aware of where the eldest Tracy son was about imbed his foot into. After all he had just done the same thing, except he had used his hand and a 'No Smoking' sign rather than his foot and the desk.
Scott looked up shocked and ready for a fight, only to see his father smirking at him. Normally he would have followed this up with a swift rebuke and a laugh. Normally he would have forgotten about it within ten seconds. Normally…he could count on Virgil and John laughing in the background at his momentary lapse of concentration and rational thinking. This was not normal.
Man, he wanted to kick something.
Jeff saw the cloud lift from his sons' eyes for a moment only to be replaced by a darker one. Sighing, he clapped Scott on the shoulder and made his way deeper into the office, looking for something, anything the police may have missed. As he searched he didn't miss the hard 'thump' of shoe meeting desk, or the choked cough his son gave as he made his way to the opposite side of the office. He did however miss the crushed International Rescue communicator under one of the many over turned chairs.
Virgil got in one good kick before his assailant had him pinned to the floor.
"Have you quite finished Virgy?" John chuckled hoarsely, still keeping his brothers arms locked to the floor.
Virgil groaned, and not purely out of discomfort. John would never let him live this down. He felt his older brother release his wrists and slowly made his way vertical. Leaning heavily against the wall, he watched as John dragged a stool across from the other side of the room, dropping it at his feet and gesturing for him to sit. He didn't protest.
"Why are you fine?" Virgil grumbled as he tried to take in surroundings.
Chuckling John responded "Well I hate to disappoint you Virge but you never were very good at holding your drink and by the looks of it, chloroform is the same story". Looking over to Virgil, John couldn't help but laugh harder at the seasick expression on his brothers' face "What's up Virge? Don't like my company?"
Virgil couldn't help but smile "I forgot how damn chirpy you could be".
Gordon was going crazy. They knew nothing. They had been told nothing. And now Alan had taken to throwing a tennis ball against hull wall. He looked down at his half eaten protein bar, man he missed that toaster.
He heard the ball rebound back into Alans' hands. All he needed was one small message from the Island. Anything. It would be better than nothing. Even if it was bad news he needed to know. He threw his head back, banging it against the wall.
The noise threw Alan off his rhythm causing his routine of throw, bounce, catch to falter. Rather than throw, bounce, catch it went throw, bounce, opposite direction – and it made Gordon smile. Because it made something click. That click quickly led to almost a full explanation.
He knew what John had been doing.
John launched his body at the iron door again, ignoring the throbbing pain radiating all up his right side. He shot a glance at his brother softly snoring on the stool whilst leaned against the wall. He had brushed the vomiting and head ache off as the younger Tracy being a light weight, but the way he was breathing suggested something else. Maybe he's allergic to chloroform he thought after all Gordons allergic to penicillin. Another raspy cough left Virgil before the darker haired Tracy shuffled back on the stool forcing himself into a tight knot.
Tearing his eyes away John began to look for other ways out of the windowless room. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a coffee table, which had definitely seen better days. He approached the table trying to see it from different angles, desperate for inspiration. Then it hit him.
He knelt next to the table, grabbed the closest leg and pulled it hard. The leg did not detach. The table did however make a pathetic creak of protest. So taking this as his cue, he promptly jumped on the table.
Scott looked at the elevator once more, something didn't add up. Why would they break in with a blow torch? He thought, ghosting his fingers over the recently melted metal Why not use the override button? He stepped further into the elevator careful not to stand on any of the sparking wires littering the floor, that was another question, Who on earth had been in there?
The button panel had been completely obliterated, judging by the dry red stains along the edges of the panel and various bits which had been torn from it, the dismantling had be completed predominantly by hand and not very carefully. As he studied the floor he saw something he recognised.
It was a wrist strap with a small computer panel in the middle, the front of which had also been removed to leave the circuitry bare. Shaking, he knelt down and picked up the front of the panel, knowing what he would see. It was a titanium casing, with only three letters distinguishing it from scrap metal.
The letters - J G T
End of Chapter
I hope someone read this and I do sincerely apologise for the delay I just really wasn't feeling the story for a while…but I now have the ending all figured out…kind of. So no more ridiculous delays!
Russiankat