For Edutainer. Day 2: "I'll call out your name, but you won't call back."/Delirium
With much thanks to Sineater who helped with some trickly wording, and MariaShadow for for the read-though.
Based on this post: janetm74/728178496587890688/yesyesyesyesyes-omg-this-is-fantastic-i-may
Characters: The Hood, Scott
Warnings: Off-screen torture, Fever, Delirium
At first he thought the figure in the distance was a mirage. In the heat of the desert it was merely a collection of wavy lines, but as he watched from the top floor of the last house in the godforsaken ghost town he'd found himself in, the figure began to coalesce.
A little closer, he realised the figure was barely upright, stumbling along the ground and weaving quite dramatically from side to side.
It was the figure of a man. A tall, thin man whose frame he could identify long before he could see the uniform clothing it.
What the hell was Scott Tracy doing out here?
'Here' was somewhere no one would think to look for The Hood.
Crown King, Arizona was a ghost town…kind of. There were people that lived here, but they kept themselves to themselves. Years ago there had been summer houses and Crown King had been a holiday destination, but climate change, the COVID-19 pandemic and the subsequent fallout from that had left the town even more ghost-like than before.
It suited the Hood greatly. Less than 20 people lived here and none of them paid him any heed. There was also the Crown King mine, abandoned well over a century ago, and which he'd been exploring as a backup in case he needed an escape route. But he'd found several empty houses on the edge of town that looked out over the mountainside and the approach road that had been connected by underground tunnels and had made this his temporary base until such time he could move more freely.
So what the hell was Scott Tracy doing out here? And in obviously not the best condition, judging from his gait.
No matter – this was an opportunity far too good to miss! This was his ticket back and he intended to make very good use of it. Jeff Tracy was finally - finally - going to pay.
Making sure that no one else was around – for once luck was on his side – the Hood slipped out of his current abode into the shadows cast by the building and waited for his promised sacrificial lamb to come within reach.
He was taking his sweet time about it, though. Eventually tired of waiting, the Hood darted forward and grabbed Tracy around his bicep and yanked him hard. Expecting the boy to pull back, the Hood was not prepared for the man to not only not resist, but to practically fall on top of him. Cursing liberally but quietly, he picked himself up, took a brief look at his prisoner and proceeded to hoy the boy over his shoulder and carry him into the house. He didn't stop until he'd dumped Tracy on one of the twin beds in the spare room.
Only then did the Hood stand back to gloat over his prize.
Only then did he realise just what a state the boy in front of him was in.
The tough International Rescue uniform was still there, telling him that Tracy had been on a mission. The baldric was also still there, although it was empty of the proprietary equipment usually stored there – the grapple packs, the mini med kit, the jetpack controllers, and the wrist controller for Thunderbird One was gone too.
That wasn't all.
The Hood had had Scott Tracy in his clutches before. Had tortured the man himself, but he had never left him in this kind of mess.
The uniform was in tatters. Where uniform should be there were strips of exposed skin encrusted with dried blood and worse. And there were a lot of strips. The ubiquitous fingerless gloves were missing and one hand was most definitely broken and fingernails were missing.
But the boy's face…the only thing about Tracy's face that remained the same were the blue eyes, but even they are bloodshot and bruised, one swollen shut completely.
Whoever had had the boy had worked him over good.
The Hood growled. Scott Tracy wasn't in a fit state to be used as bait, let alone as a hostage.
Leaving the boy lying on the bed, the Hood made his way to the kitchen. He needed to think. The complex may be minorly inhabited but there were no amenities, there was no shop he could visit and get anything…hell, he'd had to jury-rig a solar collector for power and water, and he barely had enough for one person, let alone two.
God he missed his red wine and good food. But this wasn't the first time he'd found himself having to start from scratch, and this time he had an asset that would make his return to the top super speedy.
If only he could get the boy back into some semblance of normality.
Grabbing a glass of warm water, he sipped it as he made his way back to the bedroom he'd dumped Tracy in gathering his thoughts and planning what he was going to need to get his hands on.
All that went out of his mind when he entered the room and found Tracy sprawled on the floor under the window. His curses were much louder as he grabbed the boy and once more hauled him back onto the bed.
'Virg?'
One blue eye, barely open, regarded him. There was clearly some confusion, the Hood thought with distaste. There was no way on Earth a sane Scott Tracy would ever confuse him with one of his brothers, and even if he did the two men couldn't be more different.
''M sorry, Virg. Sho' 'ave wai'ed. But if did thn you'd be 'ere.'
The almost indecipherable speech tailed off as the eye shut and the Hood sighed deeply. He placed a hand on the boy's brow only to pull it away sharply. Burning up didn't do that heat any justice, and for a moment the Hood's worry spiked. Tracy muttered and moved restlessly but didn't wake up.
There was nothing here to treat a high fever, and without treatment the infection the boy was no doubt suffering from could realistically cost Tracy his life. The meagre amounts of water the Hood collected would be of no use here.
He couldn't afford to face a murder charge. That would be the one sentence he'd never survive. The Tracy family may have their haters, but International Rescue was another entity altogether, one that had a person within it that would stop at nothing to avenge. He'd seen that ruthlessness already, and while he wasn't sure which Tracy was behind it, his money was on the elusive Thunderbird Five pilot. None of the others seemed capable of the cutthroat decisions the Hood had seen.
Striding quickly to the bathroom, the Hood dampened a towel and returned, perching beside the boy and laying the towel over his forehead. He was rewarded with Tracy stilling and the Hood relaxed minutely.
He couldn't keep this up – he needed to find an alternative solution and one that he could do without alerting the other residents that something was amiss. Not that he thought they would call the police or anything like that, but they might take it into their heads to steal his prize.
There was nothing else for it. He would have to go out and investigate the other houses and see if he could find something – anything – that could be useful. With a last look at the figure on the bed he made up his mind.
Stripping the other bed of the useless sheet the Hood tore it easily into strips and secured Scott's wrist to the bed. If the boy struggled hard enough he'd break it for sure but in his current state it was doubtful he'd even know he was restrained, at least at first.
It would have to do.
Searching the other houses near him for something, anything he could use took time and he grumbled and cursed every single second, especially when the floor of one of the rooms gave way beneath him.
It took four houses but he eventually found some stuff he could use. Some old paracetamol to help with the fever, a few bottles of water that were well past their sell by date and a half-full bottle of tequila.
When he got back to the room Tracy was awake again but still very much not with it. He was tugging ineffectually at his restrained arm.
'Leave it, boy.'
Tracy stilled at his words and the Hood hoped that he would be this obedient all the time. Pouring a small amount of fresh water into the glass, he popped two pills out and walked around the bed to his captive's unrestrained side. Placing them on the side table he perched beside Scott's head, lifting it just enough that putting tablets and water into the boy's mouth wouldn't choke him.
Hopefully.
Tablets successfully taken, the Hood removed himself from the bed as quickly as possible. But the blue eye watched him, and while there was still undeniably fever-induced confusion there was also the double-take of potential recognition. He ignored the boy and wet the towel down with one of the bottles of water, placing it on Tracy's forehead.
The heat still radiated off him and again the boy stilled under the coolness, but this time the head rolled to look at him. The Hood stared back, challenging him to say something. But the words that were spoken froze him.
'Dad? Dad – 'M sorry Dad. I tried. I tried. Forgive me? Dad?'
What the hell?
Tracy pulled at his wrist again but as the Hood stayed silent he turned his head away. A tear fell.
'Sorry. I'm sorry, Dad.'
The voice was getting weaker and eventually Tracy stilled. For a terrible moment the Hood thought he'd bought it and placed two fingers on his neck. The pulse was thankfully still there but it was weak and far too fast.
For hours the Hood sat there on the edge of the bed, applying the damp towel and giving the boy a couple of paracetamol occasionally while he weighed up what he needed to do. To give himself a break he'd opened the tequila and used it to clean some of the worst of the wounds. It was the only time the boy reacted since his little speech, whimpering but not making any outright noise even though it must have stung like hell.
And all the while he pondered what he'd heard and what it could mean.
Night fell but the fever didn't.
The boy ceased being conscious and for some reason that made the Hood even more uncomfortable. He was used to Tracys fighting back with every inch of their being, this one in particular, but since that request for forgiveness had gone unanswered it felt like the boy had given up.
He dug through the medkit again, hoping to find something he'd missed but there was nothing and he'd used up the last of both the water and the paracetomol. He growled in frustration and got up, pacing the room for a couple of minutes before making a decision.
The night was cloudless, which helped, and the Hood easily loped over the scrub and the rocks as he cleared Crown King and headed up through the mountains until he was clear enough from the jammers. The small backpack he carried didn't hinder him at all.
Grumbling at what he was about to do, he made the call.
'International Rescue. Calling International Rescue.'
'This is International Rescue. How may we help you?'
'I believe you might have lost something. Something very valuable? Even priceless one might say?'
'Hood! What do you want?'
'Let's just say someone unexpectedly stumbled my way.'
'I repeat, what do you want?'
'Merely some peace and quiet! But if you don't want what I've found by accident then don't come to these coordinates and find what you've lost.'
There was a pause. The hood smiled to himself. No doubt the boy was conferring with his family.
'John Tracy, I meant every word I said. Send Thunderbird Two now to these coordinates or you will lose your brother.'
'Er…they're on their way.'
But the Hood was already gone. There was no way he was going to stay and get caught with the boy looking like that, he wasn't going to have that pinned on him. He was happy to take credit when it was due only. He switched on his personal jammer and his eye glowed green momentarily as it activated.
Not ten minutes later he stood still and watched the big green cargo plane fly overhead, no doubt taking Daddy Dearest to rescue his eldest son.
As he walked, though, he pondered the words Tracy had spoken while delirious and he wondered.
Was there an 'in' here. Could he use this?
Yes, yes, he could.
His grin grew wide and feral.