Chapter Text
“Virgil, wake up!”
Huh? The dark haired man grunted as hands shook him, his own arm swinging out to push his attacker away. It was a few seconds before he recognised the voice as Gordon’s.
“I don’t care if you’re grumpy, this is an emergency!”
It damn well better be. If this was another one of the squid’s stupid pranks Virgil would make sure his body was never found.
Disturbing an overly tired Virgil was like flirting with death itself.
He sat up with a growl and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. “What is it? Another rescue?”
“Scott’s gone rogue!”
Virgil’s blood ran cold.
Shit!
He flung back his crumpled duvet and practically leapt out of bed.
‘Rogue’ was a term they used whenever a member of the pack lost control and changed. It could happen as a result of stress, anger or anxiety, and often caused temporary loss of reasoning. It was something the family naturally took very seriously.
A stray werewolf running amok had to be captured and brought back to the island before they were spotted by a member of the public.
They had to protect themselves and their secret.
“What’s his location?” Please, for the love of God, don’t let it be a built up area.
“Alaska,” Gordon reported swiftly, following Virgil into the elevator in the hall.
They would be taking Thunderbird Two but this was no ordinary mission, so Virgil’s chute wasn’t required. Instead Virgil would gear up enroute. Right now their deployment speed was more important than ever.
“Proximity to any settlements?”
“John says there’s a small town a couple of miles east, but Scott’s implant indicates he's travelling in the opposite direction, further into the mountains.”
That was one positive at least. Even with his human reasoning temporarily blocked Scott’s wolf instincts were still taking him away from immediate danger. They’d had that drilled into them as pups by their mother.
To wolves humans meant danger. Stay away. Run, hide. Don’t be seen. Find cover and wait until it’s safe.
Unfortunately, going by what Gordon had already told him, Scott would probably put Virgil into that same category right now. A threat.
How far into instinct had his mind fallen?
The elevator reached the hangar and as soon as the doors slid open Virgil hit an emergency panel set into the rock wall. Automatically the tractor unit started to roll, pulling out the row of pods for selection between Thunderbird Two’s landing struts. Virgil’s priority one command had the rarely used pod seven join the lineup, and the great green ship lowered herself over it once it came to a stop.
The two brothers entered via the hydraulic hatch into the cockpit and Gordon dropped into the pilot’s seat. Virgil meanwhile headed down into the module. Unlike its six siblings number seven was outfitted purely for werewolf capture and containment. One mountain pod was rigged up with a crane arm and transportation crate at the back.
The rest of the module had space for medical treatment, was loaded with special armoured gear and housed the tranquiliser rifles locked in a cabinet against the bulkhead.
Virgil took a seat until his ‘bird was in the air, then geared up. Swapping his normal blue uniform of International Rescue for a thicker grey version he donned a special vest, gloves and pulled on reinforced boots. Specifically designed for situations just like this, Brains’ own blend of strengthened polymers combined with kevlar would protect Virgil from sharp werewolf fangs and powerful jaws.
Well…for the most part.
All armour had a weakness somewhere. A chink. A gap. A werewolf gone rogue just had to find the right spot and he could tear the wearer apart. Still, it was better than nothing.
A helmet with a wide visor and hud display over his eyes completed the getup. Virgil had turned down the option for a full face visor like his IR helmet in situations like this, because his sense of smell was so important.
When he had to track down brothers who had gone rogue, or sniff out potential dangers, his nose had to be uncovered. The helmet also had slots in both sides so Virgil would be able to hear better.
If anyone was going to find a werewolf on the run, it was another werewolf with their heightened senses, so Virgil’s tracking gear offered as much protection as possible without hindering those natural gifts.
Helmet secured, he went to the cabinet next. A retina scan unlocked the reinforced casing and he removed the air rifle he now had no choice but to use on his older brother. It would send the subsonic impact delivery dart over a long range and hopefully bring Scott down before he even felt the prick of it against his skin.
Assuming Virgil could get a clear shot.
The second eldest Tracy hated guns. Always had. He was not a fighting man and had no ambitions of climbing the ranks within a military organisation like Scott and Gordon had in their earlier years before International Rescue.
But Virgil’s proficiency when it came to shooting over long distances was far beyond anyone else in the family, all of whom had received training for emergency situations just like this one.
John had once made an idle comment that, had they been born during a time of conflict, Virgil would have made a brilliant sniper.
The thought turned his stomach even now.
“ETA ten minutes,” Gordon reported. “John has sent coordinates for a suitable landing site.”
“Is Scott still on the move?” Virgil asked as he loaded the rifle and secured some extra rounds to his belt.
“Affirmative. He’s changed direction and is picking up speed. His movement patterns suggest he’s chasing some kind of animal.”
Oh, great. A rogue wolf now on a hunt. If Virgil didn’t get to him quickly Scott could go into a feeding frenzy once he caught his prey and that would make the whole situation even more difficult. Werewolves were incredibly territorial and would attack anything that threatened to steal their kill.
It was that part of their physiology that made them so dangerous.
Virgil sighed. “Understood.”
This wasn’t going to be easy.
~*~
John’s chosen landing site was approximately three miles from where Scott had abandoned Thunderbird One. Fortunately her distressed pilot had still had enough sense of mind to activate her camouflage before the change had taken hold and he’d fled the scene, his torn uniform lying in the snow nearby.
Gordon hovered Two over her smaller sister just long enough to survey the area, then continued on. When the green behemoth landed in a clearing surrounded by tall conifers Virgil was ready. Calm. Focussed. Pulse steady.
“Optical camouflage engaged,” Gordon reported through the comms. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
Locked and loaded Virgil headed down the ramp and into the ankle deep snow. “Thanks, but you know the drill. Stay with Thunderbird Two until I call for you.”
“F.A.B. Be careful.”
Virgil activated his hud. “Always.”
His boots crunched through the snow as he left the relative safety of his now invisible ship, the display on his hud feeding him all the information he required. Scott’s implant placed him about half way between One and Two, with scans from Five creating a virtual containment field that Virgil could use as a baseline. Ideally he wanted to get somewhere higher up so he could get a clear vantage point, but the terrain was rough and four legs made travelling a lot easier than two.
In his current form Scott could cross twice the distance Virgil could in half the time, so the most logical option was to head straight for the werewolf and hope he didn’t spook him. That containment field was only virtual after all. Nothing was there to stop Scott from crossing it and evading capture.
With the rifle held out in front of him and all his senses on high alert Virgil began a steady trek into the forest. He followed a small river which had carved a relatively smooth path through the valley, waded across at a shallow part and then headed back up into the trees.
He made good time over the next thirty minutes. The wind was in his favour, allowing Virgil to follow his nose as soon as he caught his brother’s familiar scent. The display on his hud was more of a backup than anything else now, technology bowing out to his werewolf senses.
Thunderbird Five’s scanners were incredibly advanced and rarely missed anything, yet Virgil still preferred to rely on his natural prowess. John may be an amazing programmer but no algorithm could replicate instinct or a heightened sense of smell.
The terrain started to drop quite dramatically again, with a large rock formation jutting out of the slope Virgil now stood above, blocking his view further down.
He paused. Eyes flicked about for any signs of danger. A long moment crept past with no movement. Virgil took in a deep breath of the frigid air, picking out the scent of his changed brother and the whiff of something else. Blood. Fresh and a lot of it.
He was close.
A whisper. “John, talk to me.” He readied the rifle and continued forward. Slow and cautious, stepping carefully between patches of snow to make as little sound as possible.
“Scans are picking up his implant just ahead of you, fifty-two metres.”
Beyond that outcrop of rocks then. Virgil’s hud display changed as the scanners from Thunderbird Five boosted the signal enough for him to lock onto a heat signature through the solid rock. The distinct shape of a large wolf tearing into the slowly cooling carcass of an animal. Looked to be a mountain goat.
Damnit. How long had Scott been holding back his wolf half?
Virgil pressed a small button on the side of the rifle, sending out a signal to Thunderbirds Two and Five confirming he was closing in on Scott. It was all about stealth now. He had to get into position so he could take the shot. The sooner he had Scott tranquilized the sooner they could get him back to the safety of Thunderbird Two and head home.
He crept forward, every step calculated and placed as gently as possible. If Scott heard him and fled it could take hours to catch up with him again.
The weight of the rifle in his hands. The cold crispness of the air. The tightness of the reinforced layers of his body armour. The sound of his brother tearing into raw flesh as he fed. Virgil’s body began to buzz with adrenaline.
Nearing the edge of the rock Virgil eased himself down and crawled the last few feet, settled the rifle and peered through the scope. Now in a suitable position he moved his finger to the trigger and went completely still. The picture of a real sniper, lying in wait for the perfect shot.
Below him, approximately twenty metres away, was his brother. Scott was muzzle deep into the body of a mountain goat, blood everywhere staining the snow and his paws. He was feasting, tearing into flesh and pulling chunks free which he quickly gulped down. All of his attention was on his consumption, which worked to Virgil’s advantage. The more Scott focussed on his kill the less time he had to look around and potentially spot Virgil’s position.
Now the wait began. Scott was facing him directly so the contact points for the dart were limited. The dart had a much better chance if it could hit a shoulder or flank, so all Virgil could do now was be patient and hope his brother turned just enough for him to take the shot.
“We’re receiving the feed from your hud, Virgil,” John’s voice spoke quietly in his ear. “Gordon is preparing the pod for transport. Be advised that a new weather front is moving in, so look out for the wind changing direction.”
Another silent tap of the button on the rifle sent John Virgil’s answer. Transmission received and acknowledged.
Come on, Scott. They were now on a time limit with that weather change. Just turn a little bit more.
Virgil hated situations like this where he was forced to train a gun on his beloved older brother. It went against his pack mentality. A wolf should not have to hunt their own pack alpha.
Still, better Virgil with his finger on the trigger of a tranquiliser gun than some glory seeking trophy hunter with live ammunition.
Scott finally shifted, turning his body so he could get at the carcass from a better angle. Virgil breathed out slowly and prepared to take the shot.
Luck was not on his side.
A large clump of snow fell from the rocky ledge somewhere to Virgil’s left. There was a thaw on so it was hardly surprising, but the sudden movement was enough to spook Scott and make him back away from his kill.
Just as Virgil pulled the trigger.
The rifle fired.
The dart flew through the air.
And missed.
What would have been a perfectly good shot was ruined as Scott’s body pivoted, causing the dart to brush through wiry fur in a glancing blow and embed itself in the ground instead. Scott’s head shot round and he had a sniff at the sleek silver implement, then turned his intense gaze upwards and locked directly onto Virgil’s position.
Shit. Cover blown.
The deep chested growl was like distant thunder as Scott bared his teeth, hackles up and ears flattening back against his skull.
There was no hiding from him now. No retreating. Virgil had two options. Risk another shot and provoke an attack, or try to get through to his brother’s human consciousness.
His finger hovered over the trigger again and he took a shallow breath.
“Scott.” Quiet. Unthreatening. Pleading.
Don’t attack. Don’t run. Stay put and let him make a second attempt.
A flick of an ear and the growling lessened. Was that recognition? It was always hard to tell when a wolf went rogue, and to assume anything could be deadly.
A gust of wind high above made the trees creak and disturbed snow from their branches. One snapped, nothing more than a twig, but it landed on Scott’s back and startled him.
He flew forward, perceiving the danger to be behind him, and jumped up the rocks towards Virgil.
“Shit!”
Scott was up in two bounds. Virgil scrambled to his knees and was forced to fend off a set of lethal teeth with the rifle. Scott’s momentum and strength shoved him over as his jaws clamped down on the barrel, dragging Virgil under him until the rifle was ripped away from his hands.
With that mouth momentarily obstructed Virgil lifted a foot and kicked out, shoving with all his might and pushing Scott back. The rifle was thrown against the rocks as Virgil grabbed another dart from his belt, then teeth were upon him again.
Scott got his left arm and clamped down hard, a frantic attack fueled purely by fear and instinct. A tooth slipped between the protective layers of armour and found flesh, forcing a cry of pain from Virgil.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Scott attempted to shake him until Virgil smacked him in the eye, a tactic which distracted the werewolf just long enough for Virgil to find the second dart he’d dropped in the struggle. He plunged it into his brother’s shoulder.
Scott yelped in pain and withdrew, releasing Virgil’s arm and stumbling back over the uneven rocks. The dart remained embedded in his shoulder, the contents now free to drain into his bloodstream and bring him down.
As his brother withdrew Virgil slumped back across the ground and stared up at the trees towering over him. His heart was pounding and lungs heaving for air. Panic gripped him despite the immediate danger having passed. His arm and shoulder ached from the abuse he’d been subjected to.
The stress of Scott’s attack had his body shaking, mild shock threatening to trigger a change. He had to calm down. Breathe. Relax. Don’t let his wolf half take over.
“Virgil, status!” John in his ear.
“Are you okay?” Gordon too. “Talk to us, bro!”
Their voices helped. They gave him something to focus on. A way to ground himself and hold back the change.
Virgil turned his head to the right and saw Scott wobble. His brother was facing the opposite direction, but those four legs were looking very unsteady now and his head was down. A few more steps and then he slumped into the snow. The sedative was finally taking effect.
Virgil drew in a deep breath and swallowed. Thank God.
“Gordon. He’s down.” He felt exhausted.
“F.A.B. Hang on, Virgil. I’m on my way.”
Virgil hummed and turned his gaze back towards the trees. He couldn’t afford to sleep, but his body needed a moment to rest. Scott was metres away and in no shape to go wandering off, which meant Virgil had a few minutes to regain some strength.
So he lay there in the snow and waited for his heart to stop pounding in his ears. It wasn’t his most successful retrieval mission, but he had still managed in the end.
Scott would be safe now. At least until they were back on Tracy Island.
Then Virgil was going to give him hell.